Mid September, 298 AC

Arya pressed herself against the wall of the passageway. Quiet as a shadow. The striped brown cat flicked an ear as a fly zipped over its head. Arya crept forward, but her shirt caught on a rough patch of the wall, making a noise as the fabric tore. The cat's golden eyes opened almost instantly.

The cat looked at Arya. Arya looked at the cat. Then the cat gave a low yowl of annoyance and darted down the passage, towards the entrance to the Tower of the Hand. Arya followed, light on her feet, breathing steadily as she pursued her quarry, listening for the cat's steps as it turned a corner.

But instead of the near-silent pad of cat feet, Arya heard the approaching sound of a girl crying. Arya exhaled, annoyed. So much for catching the cat now, with all that noise.

"Stop sniveling," Arya snapped, cranky at having lost the cat. The sobbing continued, and Jeyne came around the corner, her brown eyes swollen and her face blotchy from crying.

"Oh, so you can-" Jeyne sniffled "-cry about your- your butcher boy," Jeyne took a shuddering breath, her nose running, "but no one else can cry?"

A week ago, Arya would have punched Jeyne in the face for saying such a thing. But the sharpness of her words was dulled by how pitiful she looked. Arya sighed in exasperation and pulled an old kerchief from her pocket. Jeyne gave Arya a dubious look, but accepted it and blew her nose.

"What are you upset about? Did Sansa get all the attention? Did you get a stain on your dress?" Arya said, unable to resist needling Jeyne.

Jeyne glared at Arya, then blew her nose again.

"No. A knight was slain, right in front of us. He was young, and handsome, and a huge knight put a lance through his throat. There was blood everywhere." Jeyne shuddered, and wiped her eyes with her hands. "Septa Mordane sent me back because I couldn't stop crying."

Arya frowned. She supposed plenty of men died at tournaments, but she hadn't really thought about what it would be like to see a man die. Father hadn't let her see what happened to Mycah. Alyn had told her he'd been cut almost in two.

"I shouldn't have snapped at you," Arya mumbled, looking at her bare feet. Even stupid Jeyne didn't deserve to get yelled at after seeing someone die.

"Do you want to see some kittens?" Arya offered. Maybe that would get Jeyne to be quiet, and then Arya could get back to her practice chasing cats.

Jeyne nodded, and followed Arya to the godswood.

One of the first cats Arya had caught was a plump, friendly cat with patchy white and brown and black fur. After catching her, Arya had realized the bulge at her belly was a litter of kittens. She'd taken the purring cat to the godswood and helped build a cozy nest from leaves and grass in the bushes near an old oak tree that served as the Heart tree. The kittens had arrived within a few days, six squirming little bundles of fur with their eyes shut. Arya and Sansa visited the kittens whenever they were in the godswood, and their eyes had finally opened this morning.

"Why are there kittens in the godswood?" Jeyne asked, interrupting Arya's train of thought.

"I thought the mama cat would be safe here- there's no wild animals, except birds, and none of the nobles bring their dogs here," Arya said, leading Jeyne to the spot where the cat was nesting under a bush.

Jeyne leaned down, trying to see the kittens, and almost fell over. Arya grabbed her elbow to steady her. Seeing Jeyne fall on her face might be funny, but she'd squash the kittens.

"They're so little!" Jeyne cooed, reaching out and stroking one kitten with a gentle finger. The mama cat looked on, unbothered, her eyes half open as three kittens nursed at her belly.

While Jeyne watched the kittens, completely besotted, Arya slipped away, unnoticed. She had an idea she wanted to try while Sansa was busy watching the tourney.

By the time Arya finished her mission, it was almost dark. Jeyne thanked her for showing her the kittens, and returned to the Tower of the Hand at Arya's insistence.

The kittens were asleep, curled up against their mother, their little bellies plump with milk. Arya looked at her clothes. She was dirty already... Arya grinned, and carefully slipped under the bush and curled up around the mama cat. Just a little cuddle before she headed back.

The weather was warm, a light breeze rustling through the leaves. Deep breaths, quiet breaths, Arya told herself, the cat warm against her middle. Arya tried to time her breaths in sync with the mama cat, breathing in, and out, and in again. She felt so relaxed. The mama cat was dreaming about catching fat birds for her kittens. Soon they would need to learn how to hunt. There was so much to teach her babies. How to find water, how to wash themselves, how to avoid the shiny metal two-leggers. They're called soldiers, or knights, Arya told the cat, her eyelids flickering as she fell asleep.

The direwolf padded through the trees, her nose taking in the scents of the forest. Every tree had its own scent, from the fresh pines to the earthy oaks. Squirrels and hares might hide, but she could smell them, so close that her mouth watered. The sun had almost set. Nymeria crept beside a burrow, careful to stay downwind as she waited for its owner to appear. She was rewarded for her patience a few minutes later as the rabbit slipped out of its burrow, right into Nymeria's waiting jaws. Her hunger sated for now, the direwolf sniffed the air. There was flowing water nearby, cool and sweet. She padded down to the river and drank her fill.

Howls echoed in the distance. Her brothers and sisters had found elk and they called her to the hunt. She raised her head and howled a reply, then began trotting towards their call. Nymeria's girl was with her, she knew it. She could feel the fierce girl inside her skin, a quiet presence watching and listening and smelling with her. The fierce girl hurt less than the other one. The red girl's presence had almost overwhelmed the wolf, making her fur itch and her paws tingle. Even from the forest she could feel the red girl, the hum of ancient magic within her veins. The wolf wanted to be with her fierce girl and the red girl again, not here in the forest south of the city. But now she had her pack, and they would come with her when it was time.

Arya sat up, rubbing her eyes in confusion. Her head hurt. An acorn lay beside her- it must have fallen from the oak tree, whose branches were above her head. The mama cat made a displeased mewl, glaring at Arya with her glowing eyes. She had been resting comfortably, dreaming of stealing a fish from the kitchens. Sorry, Arya thought, scritching the cat's ears. The mama cat leaned into the scritches, but she was not placated. Scritching was all very well, but it would have been nicer to not be awoken by two-legger nonsense.

"Oh, go wash yourself," Arya grumbled. The cat gave her a baleful stare, then turned away from Arya, curling around her kittens.

Arya got to her feet and stretched, fighting back a yawn. It was dark, but for the moonlight. Catching a cat in this darkness would be difficult, but very satisfying if she could manage it. Then Arya remembered that the tourney and the feast must be well over by now. Septa Mordane would be back, prim and proper as ever, waiting to scold Arya for wandering off. Arya was surprised she hadn't been tracked down already- surely Jeyne would have immediately ratted her out.

Arya sighed as she set off for the Tower of the Hand at a steady trot. She'd take the scolding- she needed to tell Sansa about her strange dream.