Cayn

"I don't remember the first time it happened," Cayn explained. "Far as I know, I've been having these dreams. Maybe I've been having them since I was a babe?"

Lord Bloodraven nodded thoughtfully. "It interests me that you have gone so far in life without wishing to control these dreams, as we'll call them. You simply see from the creature's eyes and allow the creature its own will."

Cayn shrugged. "Lord Titus always urged me not to trifle with them."

Lord Bloodraven smiled. "That I do believe, but tell me, did you never wish to disobey him?"

Cayn said nothing to that. He resented that Lord Bloodraven would suggest that he disobey Lord Titus, but more than that, he did not wish to admit to his own fears, his own reluctance to enter into a dark realm where he could not help wondering if the animals might enter his mind just as he'd entered theirs.

Lord Bloodraven remained patient; when Cayn did not reply, he simply moved on. "Has this ever happened to you when you were awake?"

"Aye," Cayn answered. "During the tourney. I went into North's mind."

"North?"

"My horse," Cayn hurriedly clarified. "He was galloping full speed and I was trying to hold firm on his back. I was trying to be one with him, like how Lord Titus told me. And suddenly I was seeing the world from his head, through his eyes. Like in the dreams."

"You did not try to see whether you might do more?"

"No," Cayn confessed. Quickly, he added "I didn't mean for it to happen, and I didn't have any time."

"I see," Bloodraven mused. "You are right, of course. That was hardly an ideal chance to explore."

They sat in the rookery, feeding the ravens with scraps of meat, flesh, and offal. They croaked quietly amongst themselves, fixing their black eyes upon Cayn and Lord Bloodraven. It seemed to Cayn that the birds were listening to their conversation, understanding their words completely.

"It is understandable that the horse is your first. As far as I understand, it is easiest to assume the skin of an animal with whom you share some sort of bond or trust."

Cayn smiled. He had always loved North, taking good care of the horse as best he could. He had always hoped that North shared a similar affection for him, but he had never been able to prove it until now.

"Still," Lord Bloodraven cautioned, "I think you have a long way to go before you can harness your potential. But I will help shorten the distance."

A rush of gratitude filled Cayn, but he also felt curious. "Was it a long journey for you too, milord?"

Lord Bloodraven grinned. "Aye. It took me many years to discover what was happening to me, and a great deal of fruitless searching for knowledge. Skinchangers are rare, even north of the Wall. They are feared by all, and not without reason. The Andals fear them most of all."

Cayn believed that. Andals were desperate to believe that their gods watched over them. Anything which challenged that belief was something that needed to be destroyed. Why else would they cut down weirwood groves? Why else were so few noble houses south of the Neck still worshipping the old gods?

"Perhaps we should try something special tomorrow," Lord Bloodraven offered. Go to the godswood and wait for me there. I will join you shortly."

The Master of Whisperers was true to his word. The following day, shortly after breakfast, Cayn went and knelt before the heart tree, praying his thanks to the old gods. It was not too long before a sudden noise startled him out of his meditation.

Lord Bloodraven had arrived, carrying a bloodstained leather bag, stinking of a butcher's stall, in both hands. Behind and around him loped a brace of dogs which obediently followed him without any restraint or leash.

Cayn had never seen such well-trained animals before, and he gaped in astonishment as they approached him to curiously sniff his hands.

"I find that dogs make for the easiest beasts," Lord Bloodraven explained, "especially ones which have been entered before. We shall begin with these."

There was a tall wolfhound, a lean sheepdog, a heavyset young mastiff, a feisty terrier, and three mongrels of varying size, shape, and colour.

Cayn frowned. "What do you mean by 'begin', milord?"

"You are going to use your gift," Lord Bloodraven explained. "Kneel before the heart tree, and do as I told you before. We shall see which of these dogs you enter first."

"Must I choose one, then?"

"If you wish, but that is not necessary for today. For now, I simply want to give you a better chance at success." With that, he ushered the dogs to the front of the heart tree. He turned the leather bag upside down, dropping a pile of bones and scraps of meat onto the ground.

As the dogs began to eat, Lord Bloodraven stepped back from them and gave Cayn an encouraging nod.

For a moment, Cayn hesitated once more. He could not explain it, even to himself, but there seemed to be a strong sense of finality possessing him as he poised to make his decision.

He knelt upon the soft grass again, staring at the tree in front of him, listening to the sounds of the dogs as they greedily gnawed on bones and snapped up flesh in their strong teeth.

"Clear your mind," Lord Bloodraven urged. "Be one with the animal."

Cayn tried to obey. He closed his eyes and focused on the smell of meat, the sounds of the dogs.

He could suddenly taste the meat in his mouth, raw and flavourful. It was rubbery in texture at times, then it was soft and yielding to his strong teeth.

The smell of dog was everywhere too. They were around him, paying him little heed as they feasted.

He was less interested in the food. He looked up and examined the trees which made his world so dark. Blue leaves rustled above him, connected to black twigs and branches.

It worked! He felt a thrill of excitement. But which one am I?

He looked about him for some sign. The wolfhound was beside him, snapping at the terrier for trying to steal its chosen morsel. The sheepdog regarded him for a moment before it turned back to its food. The mastiff dragged a large bone from the pile and lay down beside the heart tree, keeping the bone firmly between its forepaws.

One of the mongrels, then.

He could sense someone's gaze upon him. When he turned his head, he saw Lord Bloodraven standing by, smiling directly at him. His single eye was dark against his pale face. A hand went up and beckoned Cayn toward him.

Go to him. Do it.

Slowly, he felt a forepaw step forward. Then the next one. Then a hindpaw. Soon, he was walking forward, albeit slowly and clumsily. The further he moved, however, the more the beast followed his will.

Lord Bloodraven knelt before him. Both his hands began scratching his neck.

Cayn turned his head, relishing the feeling of being scratched. A low noise left his throat, even as he saw a figure, kneeling before the heart tree. The figure was still as a statue, and uncannily familiar. Me. That's me…

Suddenly, he was back. He gasped in astonishment, and looked up at the canopy above him. The orange, yellow, and red leaves fluttered above him, rustling like a thousand whispers.

"Well done."

Cayn swiveled around to look Lord Bloodraven in the eye. His hands were still about the mongrel's neck, scratching away.

"It was too much," he murmured. "Seeing myself…"

"I understand," Lord Bloodraven assured him. "It is a strange thing, but rest assured, lad, these are only your first steps."

Cayn smiled sheepishly, but only for a moment. He thought of Lord Titus again, and what he would have to say if he strode into the godswood and beheld his first squire.

Suddenly, his thoughts were broken by the piercing red eye before him. He blinked reflexively, as if Lord Bloodraven's ability to read his mind could be kept at bay with such a simple little action.

"It is not an easy process," Lord Bloodraven resumed, "and it is often hindered by unresolved matters. Is there anything which is troubling you?"

Cayn shook his head and looked at the dog which he'd just entered. "Nothing, milord."

He was a fool; Lord Bloodraven knew lies from truth, everybody said so. But the pale man said nothing for a moment as Cayn rose to his feet and walked towards the mongrel.

The dog seemed to catch his eye and walk towards him instead. It sniffed Cayn's hands and licked them affectionately.

"You have a way with beasts," Lord Bloodraven observed. "I always noticed that about you. It does interest me that you chose this dog for yourself."

"I didn't, milord," Cayn protested. "I had no idea which dog I was."

"And yet, you still went there," Lord Bloodraven remarked thoughtfully. "This one is a crossbreed between two dogs. One was a mongrel, but the other was an elkhound."

Cayn shuddered. He looked down at the dog whose ears he was scratching. Have I ever dreamed of you before? Have you killed me in a dream? He suddenly felt an urge to flee the godswood, terrified of this dog and of Lord Bloodraven. It took a great deal for him to force down this sensation. What is happening to me?

Lord Bloodraven's thin smile was gone. He frowned as he seemed to study Cayn's face. "Another lesson you should know. Animals will leave their mark upon you, no matter how strong you think you are."

"How?" Cayn felt a thrill of anticipation.

"Difficult to say," Lord Bloodraven replied. "I have only learned so much from Andal texts and ancient stories. But I have noticed changes in myself from the animals whose skin I have shared."

"Did you have the same dreams that I did, milord?"

"I did," Lord Bloodraven affirmed, "and more."

"More?"

"My dreams were not only about beasts, but the future. I saw visions which hinted at what was to come. Symbols that took me years to comprehend. I kept them to myself, for fear that men would call me insane, but they began to come true. And I realised that I could make use of them."

Cayn had never been so in awe of Lord Bloodraven. During the wedding and tourney, Cayn had been able to approach northerners who had confirmed much of what Lord Bloodraven had told him in that first meeting in the godswood. They had spoken of wargs and other skinchangers, but also of greenseers and children of the forest. Sadly, even they had warned him away from such stories, but Cayn's interest had only been inflamed. For the first time, he was truly understanding what he was, and he had run back to Lord Bloodraven as soon as he could.

"You had best go for now."

Cayn was snapped out of his thoughts by Lord Bloodraven's comment. "Milord?"

"Your master will be expecting you," Lord Bloodraven pointed out. "Best not to keep him waiting."

"Aye, milord," Cayn replied. After his first few steps, he noticed that he was being followed.

Her snout was sharply pointed like an elkhound, but her ears were rounder and stubbier than was usual in that breed. Her coat was a mixture of browns and greys, often mixing together to form a mottled shade, but her face was mostly orange. Her black eyes seemed more intelligent than most dogs, or perhaps Cayn simply saw something in her because of what he'd just done.

The Master of Whisperers was smiling again. "You have forged a bond with this dog, lad. It would be wise to keep such a creature by your side."

Cayn worried how to explain the presence of his new pet, but Lord Titus asked no questions. Maric and Andrew were taken by the dog, as was Bessie when Cayn found her after supper.

"Such a friendly one, you are," she cooed as she scratched the dog's ears. She looked up at Cayn. "What's her name?"

"I don't know yet," Cayn admitted.

Bessie looked down at the dog again, looking thoughtful. "She looks as if her face is aflame, and the rest of her body is smoke. What if you named her "Fyre"?"

"Like the rebel?" Cayn was shocked and outraged at the suggestion.

"No," Bessie replied quickly. "I mean like the dragon of old! Dreamfyre!"

Cayn paused. "Whose dragon was that?"

"I don't remember," Bessie admitted sheepishly, "but my mother used to work in the Dragonpit, and she told me stories about a dragon named Dreamfyre. She was the one who broke the dome during the Dance of the Dragons."

Cayn was careful not to ask what Bessie's mother did for work in the Dragonpit, even as he considered the suggested name. "'Fyre' does seem like a good name," he admitted. "So be it, then."

From then on, Fyre slept in his chamber, and followed him almost everywhere. He took her with him whenever he snuck off to meet with Lord Bloodraven, and he sometimes found time to practice his abilities at night or when he had moments alone.

Early one morning, however, before the sun had even risen, Cayn was awoken by a loud tapping at his chamber window.

Thankfully, he'd been awarded his own chambers separately from Maric and Andrew, so it was only Cayn and Fyre who were roused from sleep.

The crow continued to rap upon the window as Cayn stumbled towards it whilst rubbing sleep from his eyes.

The crow, utterly tame and composed, offered a leg to Cayn, around which was wrapped a message. After Cayn disentangled it, the bird flew off as Cayn read the message written in blood-red ink.

The godswood. At once.

Lord Bloodraven was waiting for him when he arrived, still readjusting his clothing as Fyre loped after him.

"There is trouble," Lord Bloodraven told him without any preamble. "House Dondarrion is under attack from a new Vulture King."

"What's that?" Cayn had never heard the term before.

Lord Bloodraven made a dismissive wave. "It matters not, truth be told. The last several Vulture Kings have been petty outlaws, and I assure you that this one is no different. I saw signs of this some time ago, but I thought Lord Dondarrion would be able to resolve the matter himself. Now he seeks aid from us."

"Dondarrion?" Cayn understood what the concern was. He knew that Lord Titus would want to ride south and help his family.

"Lord Titus is a Dondarrion too," Cayn pointed out. "If this Vulture King is dangerous, Lord Titus' life is also at risk!"

"That will hardly stop Lord Titus," Lord Bloodraven observed wryly. "He has never lacked for courage, I'll give him that."

Once again, Cayn felt unsettled to hear Lord Bloodraven speak dismissively of Lord Titus, but he was more concerned about how Lord Titus might stay in King's Landing. "Can you keep him here?"

Lord Bloodraven shook his head. "I cannot command Lord Titus to remain in King's Landing. Your master will not be dissuaded from defending his kinsmen."

Cayn knew it was true; he would have wanted to do the same if it was his own kin in danger. But he could not stop himself from pleading. "Can you still try to speak to him? Please, milord!"

"Very well," came the soft reply. "I will do what I can, but do not trust to hope."

Cayn could not contain his disappointment. He had been able to avoid scrutiny from Lord Titus whilst he met with Lord Bloodraven, and he dared not admit the truth to his master. He could not ask to remain behind either, for he did not wish to be seen as a coward or a faithless squire.

The pale man had a bag slung over one shoulder. As Cayn stood in silence, Lord Bloodraven handed the bag to him. "Take this with you."

Cayn hefted the bag curiously. "What is this?"

"A gift," Lord Bloodraven explained. "I had these texts copied from older ones. Go through them if you wish, to better understand what we are."

Cayn spent the rest of the early morning hours reading them. He had always resented Lord Titus' insistence on learning his letters, but now he gave his thanks to both his benefactors. He waited until it was time to break his fast, then went to the Great Hall and ate silently as his mind raced.

He had said a great deal to Lord Bloodraven about wishing to keep Lord Titus safe. He had meant it, not just for him, but also for Maric and Andrew. But he knew that it was not the biggest reason for his reluctance to go south. His hours with Lord Bloodraven were an exhilarating tutelage unlike anything he could have imagined.

Fyre lay beside his chair, snapping up the scraps which he gave her, as well as the strip of bacon which Bessie fed her whilst she put more food on the tables.

She noticed his expression and paused from her duties to lean over his chair. "Is something amiss?"

Cayn shook his head, wishing he could tell her the truth. "I did not sleep well. That's all."

Bessie gave his shoulder a squeeze before hurrying off with a pile of plates.

Cayn watched her go, feeling even more morose. How can I not bring myself to return your affection?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Barba grinning at him. He was tempted to give her a good clout over her head, but he knew it was an unworthy thought. He turned back to his food instead, ignoring whatever conclusion Barba had drawn about him.

You can deny it all you want, but this is your family now!

He still felt angry when he thought of those words. How dare Lord Titus speak thusly to him, telling him who his family was. How dare he blame Cayn for Miru's disappearance when Lord Titus had taken her into his household?

How many more children will you take in? He'd wanted to ask that of Lord Titus every time another one had joined him. He'd been the first, and he hadn't been enough for Lord Titus. There had been older boys, like Todrik, who'd earned their knighthood before Cayn, much to Cayn's irritation. There had been the girls whom Titus had taken in, who'd either run off or become servants in the Red Keep, or married knights on the strength of Lord Titus' generous dowries. Then there were the younger children, such as Maric and Andrew, Sadog and Barba, Miru last of all. Why should Miru inspire such anger and care from Lord Titus? Why should he turn on me for her sake? He felt a pang of guilt at such a thought, but he could not restrain his resentment.

And that was before even mentioning Lord Titus' son. The dwarf was still an infant, but Cayn did not doubt that he would soon stand above Lord Titus' wards, the child that he always wanted. Is that why he was always going off with women? But then why spend so much time with men as well?

He was still brooding when he'd finished eating and gone to the gardens. He watched Fyre chase after squirrels and play with Lord Titus' younger squires when Ser Criston Lynderly summoned them to Lord Titus' chamber. As Cayn walked with Maric and Andrew in Ser Criston's wake, he silently prayed that Lord Bloodraven had succeeded.