They huddled together, all six of them in the dark. There was no sun, no stars only the wet ground and the harsh cold. She wanted to cry? But she wasn't alone. Her brothers lay on top of her and shielded her from the bone freezing winds. Her sister snuggled tightly into her side. Even still, she felt restless. She felt a deep ache in her stomach and the air smelt like rotting flesh. But in the distance, the sun started rising, illuminating the tall trees that surrounded them. Lifting her head to the lightning sky, she let out a cry that echoed throughout the forest. A long, desperate, mournful sound.
Sansa opened her eyes and sat up with a start. A faint ringing buzzed in her ears as she anxiously blinked the black spots away that swirled around in her vision. She shuddered as the darkness faded away and the cold darkness she was surrounded by transformed into a room. Her room. Yes, she remembered now. She was in Winterfell.
Sansa weakly stumbled out of bed, her mind still groggy from sleep, her arms and legs, numb and heavy. The echoes of the loud howl from her dream rattled Sansa's skull, leaving a dull ache behind her eyes.
"Are you alright, Sansa?"
Catleyn silently stood over in the doorway, a large basin of water in her right hand and a cup of water in her left. Poised in her regal blue silks, her mother's auburn hair lay neatly over each shoulder, brushed out until it shone. Sansa ran a hand through her own dull and tangled hair and frowned to herself.
Taking a deep breath, Sansa took the glass of water and bowed her head politely."I'm fine, mother. I just had a strange dream, is all."
Catleyn considered Sansa silently for a moment before moving to pick up a brush from her night stand and pulling Sansa back down onto her bed. Once Catleyn was sure she was steady, she ran the brush through Sansa's bed hair. Sansa's head jerked at each painful rip of the brush. But she stayed silent.
Her mother spoke gently to her. "Your father wants to take you and your siblings on a hunt with your uncle before morning." Catleyn said after she pulled the last knots from Sansa's hair.
"I hate riding," Sansa said fervently, scanning her mother's face as she did so. "All it does is get you soiled and dusty and sore."
Catleyn smiled. "I know, but you must go. Your uncle will be there as well."
"Really?" Sansa tried her best to hide her smile. Her father had planned for Sansa and her siblings to go explore the forests with uncle Benjen before Dawn, Septa Mordane had told her last night before they were sent to bed. She didn't know much about Benjen, since he'd left Winterfell long before she was even born, but he always made sure to send her a new doll on her name day. He must be kind. Sansa thought to herself.
Her mother's voice, however, was strangely flat and emotionless. "He sent me for you," she frowned in disapproval as she stood. "There are still plenty of deer in the forest. Your father wants to catch enough food before the Lords arrive." Catleyn crossed Sansa's bedchamber to dig through her closet. Only to hold up a light blue silk dress, similar to her own.
"Would it not be better to wear this?" Sansa gestured to her soft, grey tunic and breeches. "My dress will get dirty."
Catelyn's eyes hardened and Sansa immediately lowered her eyes. "You must dress nicely. That is not an outfit for a lady.
"Yes, mother." Sansa said quickly. She wanted to hit herself for being so slow. Her mother might think she's not ready to be a lady if she seemed stupid.
Catelyn's gentle smile retuned and Sansa felt herself relax.
"Well, then. Let's get you dressed." Catelyn said softly.
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Sansa ran with a smile on her face, her blue dress dragging behind her on the spiraling steps and into the yard. The world was still quiet and grey and the birds were just waking, but the men of Winterfell swarmed the grounds muttering quiet orders and curses. They hurriedly set up the tents and pavilions as the maids rushed to prepare the inns. It was the busiest Sansa had ever seen the grounds, even busier than their name day celebrations.
She found her father sitting on his huge gray horse at the gates, the boys and Arya already strapped to their horses behind him. Uncle Benjen sat quietly beside him on his brown horse. He wore the same black leathers as the day before, and his face didn't look any less tired.
Her white horse was already saddled and she quickly mounted it, smiling at Bran as she did so. He sat tall on his pony, trying to mimic their father and seem bigger than he was. His coat was crooked though and wasn't covering his arms. Sansa unconsciously reached out to fix it.
"What took you so long?" Arya loudly interrupted, trying to brush her already dirty grey tunic clean.
Sansa glared at her scrawny sister. "I was getting dressed." She said shortly. Memories of having to scrape those ironwood shields clean had not yet left Sansa's mind.
Arya face curled in disgust. "It shouldn't take you that long to get dressed."
"I wouldn't have been so tired if you helped me finish cleaning the ironwood." Sansa snapped. Once again, her sister had left her to clean up the mess she had created.
Arya cowered under Sansa's glare and tried to make herself as small as she could on her saddle. Before Sansa could say anything else though, Robb's loud laugh cut through the tension in the air. Jon at least had the decency to try and hide his laugh.
"Enough." Ned chided them gently. Ending the girls bickering. "Are you ready, Sansa?" His breath steamed with every word.
"Yes, father."
Ned nodded and kicked her horse into motion. The boys set off after him, galloping over the grounds of Winterfell, earth raining down behind them.
"Sansa?" Arya started nervously.
Sansa scowled and quickly looked away. Urging her horse to follow after her brothers.
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The rides outside Winterfell were becoming colder and colder. Even though today the wind had died down and the sun was rising higher in the sky, the once comforting wind was freezing her bones. "I knew I shouldn't have worn this," Sansa mumbled to herself.
"Why do you look so glum, sister?" Sansa turned and saw the familiar face of her brother as he reined up beside her. A face that mirrored her own. The fair skinned, red-brown hair and blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun. He sat high in his great steed, wrapped in his leathers and furs. He almost looked like the King of Winter himself.
Sansa rubbed her arms. "I'm not made for this cold, Robb. I won't survive this winter."
Robb looked unimpressed. "Stop worrying. We're of the North. The God's made us for the winter."
Sansa shrugged.
"Race you to the bridge?" He gave her one of his cheesy grins that Sansa couldn't help but return.
"Done." Sansa said, kicking her horse forward into a sprint.
"Hey!" Robb cursed and hollored, following closely behind her.
Sansa laughed and let her horse carry her through the forest. She passed the hills, their peaks now covered in a blanket of white snow, and galloped along the winding rivers that led deeper into the forest.
Sansa laughed and let her horse carry her. She passed the hills, peaks now covered in a blanket of white snow, and rode along the winding rivers. Winter flowers falling around her as she ran deep into the forest.
Suddenly, Sansa heard a small whelp, and yanked her horse to a stop.
Robb and Jon brought their horses to a stop next to hers.
"What is it?"
"Do you hear that?"
"What"
Sansa dismounted her horse and followed the soft cries, stumbling her way carefully through the drifts, groping for solid footing on the hidden, uneven ground.
Rounding the tall trees, Sansa stumbled to a stop before the corpse of a rotting direwolf, half buried in a bloodstain heap of snow. The enormous beast was torn as if it was mauled, maggots crawled around in its mouth and its eyes were as white as the clouds during the summer. As if its eyes were a mirror full of dense white fog.
"Gods!" Sansa jumped. Behind her Robb grinned. "A wolf."
"A direwolf." Jon muttered appearing at Robb's side.
"Look at the size of it!"
"I'll go get uncle," he said as he disappeared back across the bridge.
Sansa circled the creature, slowly toeing carefully closer to it.
"Sansa, stay back!" Robb grabbed at her wrist, but Sabsa brushed his hand away. She scanned the body until she heard it again. The distinct cry from her dream.
Peering closer, Sansa saw six small pups, cramped together underneath their mother's corpse. Sansa immediately reached for one with grey fur and golden eyes, gently lifting it into her arms. The pup gazed up at Sansa, making a sad, whimpery sound.
"Don't worry. I've got you."
The pup delicately nuzzled its head into Sansa's chest, its fur was soft and warm.
Robb knelt down over Sansa's shoulder and eyed the pup in her arms. "It's a tiny thing, isn't it?"
"Over here!" Sansa heard Jon's voice and a moment later, Bran and Arya appeared in the riverbank. As soon as they saw the pup in her arms, their eyes went wide and they hurriedly dismounted their horses, rushing towards Sansa, clamoring excitedly amongst themselves.
Sansa lifted the small pup in her arms for them to see.
"Go on. You can touch him." Robb encouraged, placing a silver colored pup in Bran's arms and a gray one in Arya's.
"Get away from that." Father's voice boomed from behind them He dismounted his horse with a frown. Uncle Benjen followed closely behind him on foot.
Ned's unsheathed his sword and reached for the pup in Sansa's arms.
"No! Father, please!" Sansa begged, tears in her eyes.
"Sansa, it's dangerous." Her father's eyes hardened. It made Sansa shiver but another small yelp from the creature in her arms gave her courage.
"It's just a pup!"
"It won't stay a pup forever. If it even lives that long." Her father reached once more for the pup, but Benjen's grip stopped him.
"Put your sword away, Ned," Benjen snapped. "It's a direwolf."
"It could be a sign," Jory said.
"Or a bad omen," Benjen muttered under his breath.
Ned frowned. "This is only a dead animal. And those pups are wild beasts. They have no place in Winterfell and there is no one to care for them."
"We will care for them," Robb rose to his feet. He made his voice as stern and hard as the north itself, putting himself between Sansa and their father.
"No."
"The Starks have tamed direwolves ever since the first men landed on Westeros." Benjen insisted. "They're meant to have them."
A shriek pulled Sansa's eyes to the sky. A black crow gently swayed above them.
Ned closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose. Opening them again after a moment of quiet. "Keep them, then."
"What's a direwolf doing on this side of the wall…" Benjen thought aloud. "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."
"It doesn't matter." Ned said hurriedly."
Ned spun on his heel and started back towards the horses. "We head back to the keep. Who knows what else is crawling around out here."
The journey back to Winterfell was quiet and tense. It wasn't until Winterfell once more was in sight that Sansa allowed herself to relax. Her pup snuggled against her. Quiet and safe.
"I think I'll name you, Lady."
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"Your father and I will talk about this. A noble lady does not need a dog." Catleyn paced furiously across Sansa's bedroom floor.
"She's not a dog, mother. She's a direwolf," Sansa pointed out as she lay Lady down on the small bed she'd made for her.
"May I change into my day clothes, mother?" Sansa interrupted her mother's ranting uncertainly, picking at the skin on her nails.
"You may." Catleyn said and she slipped out of Sansa's room.
As her bedroom door closed, Sansa let out a sigh of relief. She turned to her bed, suddenly noticing that on the edge of it lay three blue winter roses drenched in mud, staining her blankets and bed sheets.
Sansa rolled her eyes. Surely Arya's doing. An apology of sorts.
Sansa could just picture it. Her little sister scrambling to leave the roses in her room before she got there. Tripping over herself as usual.
Sansa couldn't keep the smile from her face. Picking up the winter roses, she gently placed them on her dresser next to her bed.
"Silly girl."