Early February, 299 AC

The air was cold and the river freezing, his mouth watering as he crossed. Prey was near, he could smell it. The white wolf was hungry.

The air was cold and the ground dark, his claws clicking on the stone. King after king he saw, iron swords on their laps. The black wolf was angry.

The air was cold and the sky clear, his ears twitching as he listened. His boy sat beneath the pale tree, the wildling woman crouched beside him. The winged wolf was nervous.

The air was warm and the fire bright, his nose nuzzling against the woman's palm. His boy's mother stroked him. The young wolf was sad.

The air was mild and the breeze fresh, her fur rippling as she ran. She knew her path, her girl was close. The fierce wolf was excited.

The air was mild and the darkness deep, her limbs shivering as she waited. She hid from her companions in the cave. The red wolf was afraid.

"Oi, Arry, wake up," the Bull hissed, shaking Arya's shoulder. For a moment his eyes were the wrong shade of blue, then she blinked and they looked right again.

She'd fallen asleep against the wall of the bathhouse while waiting for the others to finish. Arya rubbed her grimy arms, hating the feel of the thick layer of dirt on her skin. She was supposed to be Arry the orphan boy now. If she took a bath with the black brothers and their new recruits, they'd find her out. Angry, Arya slapped the Bull's hand away.

"What?" She snapped. There was a strange prickling in her skin- was her dream true? Was Nymeria close?

The Bull pointed at the road. Goldcloaks. There was an officer and five men, and the officer was arguing with Yoren. Arya leapt to her feet, her fury overriding all else. The officer turned to look at her, and quick as a snake, Yoren had his sword at the officer's throat.

"You'll be taking no bastard boys today," Yoren snarled. It was almost like one of Sansa's songs, except for how ugly Yoren was. When the goldcloaks were gone, Yoren gave the officer's dropped sword to Hot Pie and turned to the Bull.

"Queen wants you bad, boy."

Arya shook her head in confusion. Hadn't the goldcloaks been after her ? The Bull was broad shouldered and strong, a smith's apprentice. He'd forged the bull helm he carried that gave him his name. But he was just some bastard boy.

"Why would the Queen want you ?" Arya asked, unable to help herself.

"I don't know," the Bull snapped. "Why do you care?"

"Because they were after me!" Arya said, forgetting herself.

"Shut up," Yoren said, cuffing Arya upside the head. Her scalp was still tender from the rough shaving he'd given her, and it stung.

"They can't have either of your sorry hides. You ride them two coursers. First sight of a gold cloak, make for the Wall like a dragon's on your tail. The rest o' us don't mean spit to them."

Arya mounted her horse with little trouble while the Bull struggled to climb on his. Nymeria was close, she knew it.

A few men from the inn had come out to see Yoren and the goldcloaks argue, and she rode near one of them, a man with a long beard.

"Seen any wolves about?" Arya asked, trying to sound casual. The man laughed, revealing gaps where his teeth were missing.

"There's wolves all over the riverlands, boy. And in King's Landing too, I've heard."

Arya frowned. There were no wolves in King's Landing, unless he meant Sansa. They'd had no news from King's Landing since they set out- all the travelers the black brothers passed on the road were coming south. Their news was of fighting in the Riverlands, homes burned, children slain.

"Wolves in the city?" the Bull asked, finally managing to bring his courser over.

"So they say. A big red one, what slew the boy king and stole the old Hand's daughter."

"Joffrey's dead ?"

"Get movin'!" Yoren shouted, slapping her horse's rump.

If Yoren had hoped she'd fall, he'd be disappointed. Arya clung on with her knees as the horse bolted forward, then stopped, shifting her hooves uneasily. The mare hated being startled. She could already smell wolves on the breeze, though they were far off.

Wolves! Arya almost wept. The horse shook her head, confused. Wolves were dangerous, wolves were predators. No, Arya told her. I'm a wolf. Take me to them, I swear they won't hurt you. The mare stamped her feet in disbelief. Please, they're my family, Arya begged. The mare snorted. Wolves were predators, not family.

Arya crossed her fingers behind her back. The men here want to eat you, as soon as we get further north .

The mare took off running, galloping toward the setting sun. Yoren's shouts faded behind her, she was free, no sound but the wind and her horse's hooves. They crossed a little stream with a glorious splash, and Arya whooped with joy- until she heard the second set of splashes behind them.


The Bull was the one who had followed her. Of course he had. He rode badly but stubbornly behind Arya on his courser, his black hair sticking up every which way. Arya's mare needed a rest, she couldn't gallop all night, and the Bull's horse refused to throw him when Arya asked. So they stopped beside a little pool, letting the horses drink while they argued.

"You're s'posed to go to the Wall," the Bull said. Arya eyed him. She didn't think she could outrun him on foot, not for very long. He was around five years Arya's senior, long-legged and strong.

Arya swore at him, and he stared. She threatened him with Needle, and he put his hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip. Finally, in a fit of temper, she ordered him to leave.

"Thought you was highborn," the Bull said. "Too bossy for being so small and skinny." He crouched beside the pool, using his hands for a cup as he scooped up water.

Arya gazed longingly at the little pool. It was cool and clear and shallow. Arya's limbs ached from long days of travel. Sweat dripped down her back to join the dried salty crust of previous days. It had been a long time since she'd felt even half clean.

"Look," she said. "I'll tell you everything if you guard the pool so I can wash. And no peeking, or I'll stab you with Needle."

The Bull turned around, drawing his sword as though there might be goldcloaks behind every tree.

"So what's your name?" Arya asked, stripping off her filthy clothes and wading into the pool. It was almost dark, so she scrubbed quickly while she could still see. Her skin still prickled like it had earlier, and the sensation seemed to be growing stronger.

"Gendry," he replied. She dunked her head beneath the water, missing whatever he said next.

"What?" She asked, shaking the water from her ears.

"Why did you think the goldcloaks wanted you?" Gendry repeated. Arya sighed.

"You first."

"I never did nothing to no queen," he said, sullen. "I did my work, is all. Bellows and tongs and fetch and carry. I was s'posed to be an armorer, and one day Master Mott says I got to join the Night's Watch, that's all I know."

Gendry sounded wistful, as though he'd been born to hammer steel and the goldcloaks had stolen his dream away.

"I'm sorry," Arya said.

"Your turn," Gendry said gruffly. "What are you- some lord's bastard?"

"If I tell you, you have to promise you won't make me go back," Arya said.

Needle was close, she might be able to stick him with the pointy end if he said no- but she really didn't want to. Gendry was the only one who'd been kind to her. And he'd never take her to the Queen, not when the Queen was sending goldcloaks after him. Gendry sighed.

"Fine, lordling. I swear, I won't take you back to Yoren."

"My name is Arya of House Stark."


Telling Gendry had been a mistake. He hadn't taken her back to Yoren, but he also refused to go away. Worst of all, he kept bowing and calling her m'lady. Ugh.

At least he was following her lead, though he thought she was daft to risk riding in the dark. They went slowly, letting the horses pick out their own path through the woods. Arya explained about Nymeria, and how the horses could smell wolves nearby.

She didn't mention the prickling in her skin or how it grew stronger and stronger. Instead, she told Gendry that Nymeria would be as good as ten soldiers, and she'd be able to sniff out Sansa.

Arya expected Gendry to laugh when she told him she was Sansa's sworn shield. Instead he'd been quiet for a long while.

"Never had a sister," he said finally. "But I s'pose I'd want to keep her safe if I did."

They'd been riding for at least an hour when Arya's mare shied back suddenly. Gendry's horse stopped too, its muzzle quivering. The horses whickered with fear as Arya slid down off the mare.

Something was coming. Arya could hear it rustling in the brush, and she ran toward it, ignoring Gendry's shout of warning. A dark blur with golden eyes hurtled out of the darkness. The direwolf slammed into her, and Arya laughed as Nymeria's tongue washed the tears from her face.