Day 3: Children
He was injured when the hunting party found him. His fur was an odd shade of red, a color Jon never though a direwolf could wear. His eyes were gold however, a normal color for a direwolf. He was slightly smaller than Ghost and possibly just as fierce had it not been for the injury in his left leg and thigh. Next to him was the carcass of a bear, long dead from the wounds it sustained from him.
"Let's leave him be", Jon said, "An injured direwolf is still dangerous." He turned around to leave and the others began to follow him.
All except Robb.
Robb's grey eyes were wide and he looked at the direwolf the same way that a child would look at cakes and other sweets.
"Please father, let me have him. He's only injured", Robb walked towards to the direwolf. The direwolf didn't move, only his golden eyes followed. Robb leaned down and stroked his head, "Look father, he doesn't seem to mind human touch."
Robb continued to plead and Jon's mind immediately took him back to a time long ago, back when he though his late uncle Ned was his father and when he was only a bastard. He was in the snow, convincing his uncle to let the Stark children keep the pups, much to Bran's delight.
Did I look like that? Like my son Robb, who looks so much like the uncle he will never know, pleading to keep the direwolf?
Robb, the hunting party, and even Ghost looked at Jon for an answer.
Robb had a direwolf named Grey Wind. And this Robb will have one too.