Jaime

"I don't need your help."

"Grrr."

"Yes, I am sure!"

"Grrr."

"I mean it," Jaime snapped. "If we use your flames it makes everything taste like wood. Burnt wood. Old burnt wood that's spoiled. Which I'm not even sure is possible naturally which only shows why I will not be using your fires just because you are impatient!"

Hellfire narrowed her eyes at him.

"Trust me, it will be worth it! So much tastier for both of us!"

"Grrrr."

"No I won't use MY flames!" Jaime complained, throwing his hands up in the air. "We spent nearly an hour finding this buck… I am not going to have it tasting like whale oil!"

The massive sabercoat stared at Jaime for a long moment before finally flopping right down next to him and the fire, giving him a hard shove with her head. Jaime let out a sigh but still reached out and began to scratch her behind her ears. She didn't purr… he remembered dimly Tyrion once mentioning that large cats couldn't purr, as the ability to roar meant they couldn't purr for some reason… but did let out a rumbling sound that made clear she was pleased. That little fight settled Jaime watched the fire in front of him, the skinned buck carcass roasting over the flames. Normally such a large beast would have been cut up and prepared to be packed up for a long trip, able to sustain him for weeks. But Hellfire needed to eat too and she would be consuming most of the deer, with Jaime getting his fill first before he let the big glutton have at it.

Shifting against the fallen log Jaime looked over at the large wrapped bundle that sat near him and huffed. "I still can't believe that this thing is going to help up."

When the Old Gods had commanded him to seek out weapons of power he had assumed that they would be like Darksister: blades made of nearly mythical metals, able to do impossible things, worth entire kingdoms and lost in old crypts and abandoned temples. Instead he had found the first item left buried in a glen on a small island just off the western shores of the North. It had meant a lot of digging and when he'd found the damned thing he had thought for a moment that someone had replaced what he was looking for with a false item, one meant to trick the foolish.

But no, the Old Gods had spoken in his head and told him the green stick with a ring on the top was in fact the weapon he was searching for.

"Disgusting thing," Jaime thought to himself, taking out a rag and working to remove some of the gunk from the Staff of One. Apparently it was actually made of copper and become covered in… something… and he had decided to set about cleaning it off. "Well made I suppose, if it managed to survive all this time…" He had no idea WHAT the Staff could do but he figured that if he had a legion of voices belonging to immortal beings that had turned him into a burning skeleton man telling him the Staff was important then…

…well, maybe it was?

Or they were fucking with him. That was a possibility.

Taking out the map he frowned as he looked over it. "We should be within a few hours ride of the next weapon." Hellfire merely nudged him, demanding more scratches. "Typical feline," he muttered as he used one hand to itch her head, the sabercat rumbling again in pleasure. He had seen her tear apart black bears without breaking stride (literally… they had burst over a hill right in front of a bear; Hellfire simply had bitten down on its throat without losing a step, dragging it for a mile before tossing its mangled body to the side) yet she also was a needy thing that loved to be pampered. "There is a joke about my family there," he muttered.

Hellfire licked her lips… before suddenly going still and tense. Jaime, for his part, at once reached for his sword.

"The animals always know," Ser Arthur Dayne had once told him when they had been allowed a rare chance to actually leave the Red Keep. Their horses had suddenly begun to fuss for seemingly no reason but Ser Arthur, rather than spur his mount forward, had held firm, sending two of the guards that were with them to take the long way around to the other side of the street. They'd then dismounted, leaving the horses whinnying and clicking their hooves against the cobblestone, and edged forward to find bandits waiting in a hidden offshoot alleyway, ready to throw out caltrops to cripple their mounts and then set upon them. Jaime and Ser Arthur had easily dealt with the fools but it would have been dicy had they not been on alert. More men died of their horses throwing them in battles than died by swords, at least from what Jaime had observed. "They have senses we can't even imagine. You ever see one sensing danger… be ready."

So Jaime shifted, moving from the lounging position he had been in to a squat, one that would allow him to quickly leap into battle if needed. Keeping one hand on his sword he reached out with his other to grab a large hunting knife and poke at the deer, checking to see if it was ready.

'And of course it is,' he thought darkly. 'I swear if some wildling bastard makes me burn my meal…' They had managed to avoid pretty much everyone while South of the Wall but now back North again, heading towards a section of the Lands of Always Winter known as Ulysses' Garden according to the map, they had begun to encounter those wildlings that were refusing to make their way towards the Wall and safety. And naturally if one was stubborn enough to believe they could battle the Others they believed that Jaime was an easy target.

He was utterly startled when the figure finally emerged into the circle of light his campfire created. The wildlings were skilled hunters, that was true, but he should have heard the figure approaching! Instead they emerged from the shadows of the ancient forest like a phantom, staring at him with dispassionate eyes.

"I wondered who was foolish enough to light a fire," the figure, a woman though not built like any woman Jaime had ever seen save perhaps the Mormont women, said as she moved towards him. "Don't you know its dangerous to be out here?"

Jaime merely raised an eyebrow, looking her up and down. She was the biggest fucking woman he'd ever seen… she had a good half foot on him, perhaps a foot! It was hard to tell with the snows. And she was a muscular lass; even with the heavy fur coat that was draped over her shoulders Jaime could tell she was powerfully built. Still… appearances needed to be kept and as such he refused to answer her.

"I know how to fight," she said before reaching behind her. Jaime tensed but then realized she was pulling a sled that had a large… well, he guessed it was a bird from the feathers but he couldn't be sure just what kind. Something dangerous judging from it having talons the size of his hands. "You take that down or your pet?"

Hellfire growled low at being called a pet but Jaime just patted her on the head. 'Hold off,' he mentally hissed; he didn't know if she actually could hear him or not but he had given her mental commands before and she seemed to understand. 'Lets see where this goes.' Out loud he said, "If you have eyes you should be able to tell."

The woman smirked at that. "Still might have gotten lucky."

"All hunts have a bit of luck."

"Not when I do it," she said and Jaime found himself in the odd position of hearing his own arrogance in skills of hand being tossed back at him.

'Gods, how many times did I make that comment when it came to a tournament?' he thought. While it wasn't quite the same, as he hadn't been accusing her of needing luck to win, her words were almost his, dripping with the same confidence that came from knowing you were the best at something. 'I wonder how good she is with that spear,' he thought. 'And the knives.' He hadn't missed that she had multiple weapons hidden on her person.

"All for you?' she asked. A test to see if he was all by himself.

"If you're up for a trade I wouldn't say no to sharing," he commented. He didn't actually mind having just venison for dinner but it was yet another chance to test her. To see how she would handle things. How open she was to other people. 'And it doesn't answer her question,' he thought, refusing to let go of his sword.

"I suppose I need to see if the thing was sickly or not," she commented. "Might have been the only way someone like you managed to snag it." With that she sat down on the ground that had managed to stay snowfree thanks to some trees, taking out a knife and setting to work cleaning her bird. It would take a bit of time to have it all prepared but Jaime, after giving his deer a few pokes, saw that his meal could wait until her's was ready. Hellfire wasn't too happy about the delay but once he settled back down and began to scratch her she quieted down.

Sitting there with the stranger honestly made him miss his companions. 'And how strange is that?' he thought to himself. 'The boy I crippled. The simpleton. The dreamy moon boy. The girl who is more a boy than her brother. The wildling bitch.' He let out a quiet snort. 'They are people I want to be around.' Hells, even his mockery wasn't entirely true… Osha was a fine fuck and he was looking forward to sharing her bed again. Or anyplace else she might want to fuck. Cersei had only truly gotten adventurous at Winterfell… and after Bran she had refused to attempt anything like that again. Osha though… that woman would be willing to go anywhere. Do anything.

He shifted his legs and mentally scolded his erection, demanding it go down.

"What's a Black Brother doing this North of the Wall?" the woman finally said once she'd removed all the feathers from her bird and set about yanking all the guts out of it. She wasn't squish, that was for sure, and Jaime wondered if she was putting on a show to let him know what she was willing to do. He wouldn't put it past her, to be honest.

"Your kind is passing through the Wall."

"Exactly," she said.

"That means those that aren't passing through are of interest to us. Never good when someone decides to make things harder for themselves."

"Living in the North, amongst people that hate us and think us savage monsters… they will always be staring at us waiting to see what we might do next… you believe that such an existence is an easy one for the Wildlings?"

'No,' Jaime thought, 'but then again you aren't a wildling, are you? You would have called yourself Free Folk. Would have commented on my dress; might be black but isn't the right make up. And you certainly don't have the fucking accent of a Wildling.' Osha had taught him much and while he knew it would be wrong to assume that all the Free Folk were like her… he had to imagine there were enough shared traits amongst them that they would have some resemblance to her.

And the woman in front of him who was sticking a bird on some skewers?

She was no Wildling.

It was hard to place her accent… it reminded him a bit of the Dornish accent but also tempered. It reminded him, quite honestly, of Lewyn Martel. He had been in King's Landing just long enough that he had begun to lose a bit of his Dornish accent; it was still there but it had been muted. Or perhaps stunted was the better word. Still there but reduced. Enough that all the women fawned over him even though he had swore to take no wife and father no children (and as surprising as it was to think of someone related to Oberyn Martel keeping such a promise Lewyn had held true to his oath though he was a shameless flirt) yet he could talk with the men of the court and make them forget that he was from Dorne. Jaime had watched more than one noble begin going off on the Dornish while Lewyn merely smiled.

Her accent reminded him of that. And while it was hard to tell thanks to the darkness… he got the sense her features were Dornish as well.

'Perhaps a Sand Snake?' he thought. 'I could see Oberyn Martel sending one of his daughters North of the Wall to investigate things.'

People always talked about what a good father Oberyn Martel was. How he was dedicated to all his bastard daughters, loving them like they were true born. But what people missed was how he used them as his own private spy network meets sellsword company.

All of them were deadly, trained by the greatest warriors Oberyn could find. Jaime had little doubt if things had been different and their families not been in a silent war the Red Viper would have asked Jaime to train at least one of them. Apparently he'd already managed to convince Tyrion's pet sellsword, Bronn, to work for him and Jaime had little doubts he wanted to man to come to Sunspear and train his brood.

But they were also said to be utterly clever… and able to blend in with the world and disappear. One was said to have gone to Old Town and disappeared without a trace. Others commonly slipped into the Reach. And then there was his eldest, Natasha Sand… or now Natasha Stark, the Black Widow, future lady of Iron Pointe. That one… he'd heard stories about her and while normally he would have been interested in testing his skill against her he had a dark feeling it wouldn't be worth it.

'Wonder how the Bastard is handling her,' Jaime thought before mentally shaking that thought away. 'Heh… he ain't a bastard anymore though…' He gave that thought as well a shove and focused on the issue at hand: the stranger. 'She's one of Oberyn Martel's, most likely. Sent up here to check things out. She'd doing well but can't hide that sun kissed skin.' That did leave him wondering about her accent; it didn't sound anything like the Free Folk so it wasn't them that had tempered the Dornish twinge. Jaime couldn't place it.

As if sensing his eyes on her the woman looked up and opened her mouth… only to click it shut.

'Oh… this is going to be really good or really bad,' Jaime thought to himself. He thought of Tyrion and how he would do that often when something startled him… before either becoming giddy with delight or so sarcastic that his words seemed to drip acid. And he thought of his father and how, when he did that (though far, far more subdued) it usually meant pain and suffering for all.

"Where are you from?" she asked.

Jaime raised an eyebrow at that. "Could I safely say "My mother's womb" and not get struck?" It was a very Tyrion thing to say… and it made his heart ache a bit knowing he may never see his brother again. And considering how the family hadn't been all that concerned about him…

"You have the looks of the Westerlands to you," the woman said, now doing nothing to hide she wasn't a wildling.

"I grew up in Lannisport," Jaime said, deciding that he inject as much truth into his lie as he could. He had found all his life that the more honest you were the easier a lie was believed. That had always been Cersei's mistake: trying to make a lie out of whole cloth. It was like trying to build a shelter for the night: better to have it anchored by something stable. She would claim that she was kept from an appointment because she ran into some strange trouble. Jaime would just shrug and say he took a wrong turn.

"Connected to the Lannisters."

"Distantly," he said. "Though I guess with them and how many are running around that doesn't mean much." He was tempted to say he was a bastard, to see if she would open up more, but quickly decided against it; she might ask him things about his life that he honestly wouldn't know and that could lead into another trap that he did not want to try and find his way out of.

"And how did you end up North of the Wall."

"I broke my vows," he admitted honestly. "Many times."

"Vows… are tricky like that," she said, her voice growing just a touch softer. Not soft… but softer. She began to check on her bird. "The same one?"

"Yes. But to two different men. One I broke for the best of reasons. The other for the most selfish."

"But you feel worse about the best one, don't you?" the woman asked.

"Yes," Jaime got out. Because it was true. Even if all of Westeros learned of how he had betrayed Robert and looked upon him with scorn… he could live with that. Accept it. Because he understood that what he had done was wrong but he also understood that Robert was a shit king who had broken his own vows a thousand times. While he would never claim that making love to Cersei was justice…

But Aerys?

He had broken his vows for the greatest of reasons… and still it felt wrong. And not because of the reasons many would have believed. He didn't care that Ned Fucking Stark looked down that massive nose of his at him; the bastard had vowed to serve his king, hadn't he, and then risen in rebellion? He didn't care that people mocked him with the name 'Kingslayer'; they did that because they were scared of him and it made them feel better to seemingly be able to lob an insult at him. He didn't care that other members of the Kingsguard looked at him in disgust; he would take Selmy's glowers any day because they were forever tainted by how he hadn't reacted as the Queen screamed for help as Aerys violently raped her. It was why, after the first time when Ser Arthur had seen him make a move towards the door, he had never been allowed to stand guard over the bedchambers again. Only he remembered the words of his oath.

'I charge you to defend the innocent'

All the Kingsguard had made that pledge when becoming knights. And all of them had stood by as an innocent woman was brutalized by that-

"Why?" the woman pressed.

"Because I should have broken them sooner," Jaime whispered.

He thought of Harrenhal. Thought of Aerys gleefully making him a member of the Kingsguard. Harrenhal. The Beginning of the End.

How different would the world have been if Jaime had risen up, grabbing the sword from Aerys' hand before he could finish inducting him into the Kingsguard, and slit the bastard's throat? Maybe he would have died… most likely would have… but how many more would be alive now if he had done that? Allowed Rhaegar to rule? Perhaps the Prince would have revealed to all what a monster his father was and lifted Jaime up, thanking him for doing what he didn't have the strength to do. Or maybe he would have still died… but at least been able to walk into the Seven Heavens with his head held high. His ancestors staring at him before bowing low.

How different the world would be if he had charged into Aerys' bedchamber the first time he raped the Queen rather than allow Ser Arthur to grab his hand to keep him from drawing his sword. Cut him into pieces before gathering Rhaella in his arms and swearing she would be protected. Rhaegar would have thanked him… he knew the prince hated how his father treated his mother. It was why Jaime had always doubted the claims that Rhaegar had raped Lyanna Stark; the prince refused to become his father.

Cut the collar off of Brandon Stark's throat and together charged the Mad King, Jaime holding off the noble fools while Brandom showed Aerys the might of the North? And then the two standing at the Iron Throne, calling for any who still thought Aerys worthy of it to come forth and be his champion. A trial by combat like in the songs… Gods, if only Brandon had called for that Jaime would have sided with him. Aerys would have demanded the Kingsguard stand with him but Jaime would have sided with Brandon and his Northmen and they would have fought together and proven their innocence.

Bashed his fucking head in the first time he had ordered a bard's tongue ripped out purely because a song they sang was 'out of tune' to the king's ears. Driven his sword through his throat when he insulted Ellia and her children… even though Mantis assured him that she knew he cared he could have saved her from her grandfather's judgement…

'In my dreams… I kill him every night,' Robert had once told him when deep in his cups and left sorrowful about his privileged life.

But Jaime doubted Robert dreamed of ALL the different times he could have killed Rhaegar.

Not like how Jaime dreamed of the thousand chances he wasted in ending the Mad King.

It didn't matter though. Aerys was dead. Robert was dead. His family clearly didn't care if he was dead. And he had to live for the here and now and not become trapped in the past.

So he walked over to the deer, prepared to haul it off the flames, only for his now dining companion to join him, helping him lift the carcass up and set it down upon the ground; Hellfire honestly didn't care if part of the meat got dirty.

"Take your fill because this one won't leave enough for seconds," Jaime said as he reached over and patted Hellfire's head. The sabercat merely licked her lips and continued to eye up the deer, ready to pounce on it the moment Jaime said she could.

The woman merely nodded and cut herself off several long strips of crackling meat, the juices popping and bubbling as she placed it on a long scrap of leather that she had pulled from her pocket that looked to be stained by a thousand different meals. Jaime laid his on a hunk of bark he had pealed from a tree and cleaned before her arrival before stabbing into her bird, pulling out great chunks of white meat from the breast. Once both were settled he eyed his sabercat and finally nodded.

Hellfire launched herself forward, violently tearing into the remains of the deer. She was showing off, much to Jaime's amusement. He had seen the cat eat far more carefully but she clearly wanted to prove to their dining companion that she could be quite vicious if she desired so. Snapping bones so they popped, tearing into the flesh with her razor sharp teeth. All to warn her off from doing anything stupid.

As if sensing his thoughts the woman merely eyed the sabercat and said, "All you are doing is showing me all the best ways to kill you." That caused Hellfire to look up and growl. "All the spots that are weak and soft. Where I can slip a knife. Where I can twist to avoid your claws." She narrowed her eyes and Jaime suddenly felt as if he were watching a viper square off against an eagle. "Don't show a predator what you can do, kitty cat."

Hellfire snarled at that and Jaime tensed, ready to call her off… only for the sabercat to let out a huff and return to eating her meal only now at a slower pace.

"You have to show them you won't put up with their shit," the woman said.

"Have experience with cats?"

"Doesn't matter if they are huge or fit easily in your daughter's arms. They-"

And then the woman stopped and went silent.

'What was that about?' Jaime thought to himself before it suddenly hit him. 'Daughter… she mentioned a daughter. A touchy spot then but… why?' He didn't know what was making him linger on that but he had the sudden feeling that the answer was far more important than he realized. That… it would mean the lives… and the deaths… of so many. 'Or I'm just being an overly dramatic woman,' he thought with a mental smirk.

He also got the sense that if he pressed her on her daughter the two of them would end up fighting. And he wasn't interested in that.

'Because you might not win,' a tiny voice whispered in his head even as louder voices crowed that of course he would win, he was Jaime Lannister, the greatest sword in all of Westeros! 'Who isn't in Westeros at the moment.'

So instead of asking that question Jaime found himself saying, "Are we just going to keep dancing around names? Or should I just call you 'wench'?"

"Call me that and I will ensure YOU are called wench," his companion said gruffly.

'Oh yes, she's a Sand Snake alright,' he thought before saying, "I'll go first, if that makes you feel better. I'm Ryder." He had no idea where he'd pulled that fucking name from but it worked. 'And it is a bit fun, having a fake name,' he thought to himself, remembering the childhood stories of Dunk and Egg and of other famous knights and heroes who would give themselves false names to hide their true identity. He'd never dared attempt that before, knowing exactly how his father would react. "A Lannister doesn't hide their name away… our names are our sword, Jaime. Our strength. Our…" Jaime shook his head. 'Or something else pithy and a bit long winded and filled with scorn.' Yes, that was what his father would say if he found out that Jaime had decided not to reveal himself. Even if he knew that sometimes there was places where the name Lannister wasn't a benefit no matter how much he wanted to believe. That respect or fear wouldn't exist and instead it would only be hatred… and the drive to do something about it.

"…Kraven," the woman stated.

"There is a story behind that name," Jaime said, having not expected that from her. "Unless your parents really hated you."

"I think they might have."

'Another touchy subject,' Jaime thought as she once more focused on her food. While not curling in on her self or anything like that she still went quiet and still, her tone making it clear she wasn't interesting in any my questions.

So… naturally… Jaime asked more.

"What brings you out here?" he asked.

"I thought we covered that."

"We covered why others would remain here when the Night's Watch is offering more fertile lands that are certainly warmer than this place. But we never discussed why you are here."

"I was with others. They went after someone… I went off on my own."

"Didn't agree with what they were doing?"

"Not interested," she said and while the words were just a cut off as the ones before, making it clear she wasn't interested in discussing that either (making it a rather long list already of topics Jaime needed to avoid) there was something there… "And what of you, Ranger?"

"Searching for a place," he said. He'd almost said 'something' but quickly caught himself; letting Kraven know that he wanted something was a dangerous thing. After all while the Old Gods weren't screaming at him that she was an ally of the Others that didn't mean that she wasn't a threat on her own. All evils didn't come from the mythical White Walkers… his entire life had shown him that humans could be bastards all on their own. "You ever hear of Ulysses' Garden?"

"…how do you know that name?"

Jaime raised an eyebrow and torn off another bit of venison, chewing on it. 'Now… that's interesting,' he thought to himself. 'Clearly she knows the name as well.' Outloud he said. "From an old map. I was told there might be something of interest there."

"Something…" Kraven muttered before she brought up the drumstick of her bird to her lips and tore off a great chunk of it. Jaime was stuck with the vision of some grand savage queen, feasting in a hut filled with flames and smoke, sitting on her throne made of foreign woods and bones. "Yes… something alright. A monster. A powerful one. Or at least those foolish enough to mock it call it a monster."

Jaime once would have argued that there were no such things as monsters. That they were just tales told to children. Later he would have said snidely (but also with quite a bit of hidden pain) that the only monsters were those that wore fine clothes and moved about great keeps rather than slime-filled caves. Now however? Having seen the likes of Bloodraven?

Monsters existed.

Actual monsters.

"Others though call it a god," Kraven stated. "There are wildlings who worship it. The Life Giver."

"That is a lofty title that I have a feeling gets tossed about far too often and easily," Jaime stated.

Kraven smiled. It was barely there and certainly wasn't a pretty smile but it was there. "Yes. But for this one that might actually be the truth of the matter." She leaned in. "They claim that it is able to grow vegetation. Plants. Fruits and vegetables that should wither and die in these lands."

"If true then I suppose it would earn the name," Jaime said.

"it also isn't something that is to be taken lightly. I have heard claims that it draws power from those that fear it."

Jaime murmured at that, a joke on the tip of his tongue that he crushed. Something was warning him in his not-so-deep bones that it wouldn't be wise to jest about such things.

"It can sense the make of a man before you even see it. Should you prove to be in need it will provide, though you may not be able to see it. If you are unworthy… it is the last thing you ever get to see."

"I suppose then no one knows what it actually looks like," Jaime said. "Convenient, that."

Kraven though shook her head. "No… there are those that claim to have seen it from a distance. A great hulking thing of living vegetation. Tree roots and swamp water creepers and great willow branches and tuffs of wild grass patched together to create a single living being that is stronger than ten oxen."

"Sounds like an… interesting creature," Jaime finally said.

Kraven though narrowed her eyes. "Do not make light. It is said that the Life-Giver is able to burn a giant alive with a single touch. The wildlings have a saying: Whatever knows fear burns at the Man-Thing's touch."

Jaime… burst into laughter.

"Man-Thing? That is the name of your grand god?"

"Not mine," Kraven replied. "But it fits, does it not? I can think of quite a few women who have come to fear a man's cock. And just as many who burn at its touch. A life giver but also a brutal destroyer."

"…well, when you put it like that," Jaime said though he still chuckled at the frankly terrible name. "Still," he finally said when he'd settled himself down, "I suppose if that creature is real I'll need to show it no fear when I walk into its territory tomorrow."

"We are already in its territory."

"…what?"

"We are already-"

"I heard what you said," Jaime snapped. "What do you mean we are already in its territory?"

"We are already in Ulysses' Garden," Kraven stated.

"No… no we are not." He pointed to where, hours earlier when he'd begun to set up camp, he'd spotted a series of rising hills. "We haven't reached The Rises yet."

"Yes and no. Did you not notice how the land was slowly moving upward? You have been walking on The Rises for at least a day. Those are just the mere tops."

Jaime looked at Hellfire who paused from her own meal, staring at him before swallowing a mouthful.

"We are in the Garden."

"We are," Kraven said. "I am here to test myself against the monster. To see just how powerful it is. I do not know why you are here, Ryder, but I suggest you prepare yourself because-"

And then a cold wind blew through the trees, making the fire lessen in strength. At once Kraven was on her feet, pulling her spear from her back and giving it a twirl. Jaime, for his part, drew Dark Sister and wondered if he should risk maintaining his façade of just being a normal man or risk taking on his form as the Spirit of Vengeance.

He didn't get time to debate it any more as a great roar filled the air to his left and he turned in time to see a truly monstrous being suddenly emerge from the trees. Despite its great bulk it moved far too quickly; it reminded him of the Hound, the few times he'd seen that man fight. Except far, far faster. Big things shouldn't move that quickly and there was the Man-Thing, storming towards them.

'And limber too,' Jaime thought to himself as Kraven fell into a defensive stance, spear at the ready and, to his surprise, a bit of a deranged smile on her lips. 'Its moving through the trees like a hunting hound. Slipping through them so easily despite how broad it is.'

There was no more time to think. The monster was on them.

Jaime locked eyes with it, tense.

'Do not worry, Jaime Lannister.'

He blinked.

What?

'I will protect you from this foe… and then we shall speak.'

…

…

What?