"Fenris Wulfsbane, a knight hailing from the frigid North, has become a figure of legend within the annals of history. His reputation is built upon a series of near-mythical feats that have earned him numerous monikers: "The One-Hundred Man Killer, Avenger of the Stark, Bane of the White Walkers, and Dragon Slayer" reflecting his prowess and valor in battle."— Historical chronicled by a respected Maester of the Citadel
Chapter 1: Benjen Stark
In the cold, unforgiving expanse of the North, Castle Black stood as a bastion against the encroaching darkness beyond the Wall. The air was thick with tension and anticipation as Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, strode through the stone corridors of Castle Black. He had just concluded a conversation with Lord Commander Jeor Mormont regarding the recent conclusion of the Greyjoy Rebellion. News had spread like wildfire that Balon Greyjoy, the architect of chaos in the Iron Islands and beyond, had been decisively defeated by King Robert Baratheon's forces. This victory would surely bring Eddard Stark back to Winterfell, where he belonged.
Benjen felt a swell of pride for his brother, Eddard—the Warden of the North—who had fought valiantly alongside King Robert. Yet beneath that pride lay an undercurrent of worry; while Balon Greyjoy may have been vanquished, other threats lurked in the shadows. The Wildlings were restless, and whispers among the Rangers hinted at movements within their ranks.
Determined to investigate these rumors himself, Benjen gathered a small group of trusted Rangers and prepared to venture into the Haunted Forest. The forest was notorious for its eerie silence and treacherous paths; many who entered did not return. As they departed from Castle Black, Benjen felt a chill run down his spine—not from the cold but from an instinctual sense that something was amiss.
The journey through the Haunted Forest was fraught with unease. The trees loomed overhead like ancient sentinels watching their every move. As they pressed deeper into the woods, Benjen recalled tales told around campfires—stories of dire wolves that roamed these lands and wildlings who whispered to them in dark rituals.
After hours of navigating through dense thickets and gnarled roots, one of Benjen's scouts returned with alarming news: a large number of Wildlings had been spotted crossing through this very forest. They were heading toward Nightfort—a place steeped in legend and mystery. Nightfort was once a stronghold for the Night's Watch but now lay in ruins, haunted by its own dark history.
With urgency driving them forward, Benjen led his men toward Nightfort. However, as they approached their destination, an unsettling sight met their eyes: bodies littered across a clearing—Wildlings slain without mercy. Blood soaked into the earth like dark rainwater pooling around fallen leaves.
"What could have done this?" one Ranger murmured as he knelt beside a corpse.
"Dire Wolves," Benjen replied grimly, recognizing bite marks on several bodies that witnessed nature's ferocity.
They were portrayed as large, powerful, and fearsome versions of normal wolves. Dire Wolves are feared due to their size and predatory nature; they symbolize House Stark through heraldry, cultural significance, connection with nature, and narrative function; finally, they became extinct south of the Wall.
It was when one of the Rangers shouted in alarm as he spotted movement among the shadows at the edge of their clearing. Instinctively, they all turned toward it, weapons drawn and ready for confrontation.
"Stay alert!" Benjen commanded as they fanned out slightly to encircle whatever creature lurked in those shadows.
As they closed in on the figure—a half-naked child with wild black hair and piercing blue eyes—the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The child snarled at them like an animal cornered by hunters; there was something primal about him that sent shivers down Benjen's spine.
"Hold your fire!" Benjen shouted urgently when one of his men nocked an arrow and aimed it at the boy. "He may not be our enemy!"
But before anyone could react further, the wild child released an ear-piercing howl that echoed through the trees like an ancient call summoning forth dark forces from within the forest itself.
In response to this chilling sound, chaos erupted as a pack of dire wolves emerged from behind trees and bushes—massive creatures with fur as dark as night and eyes glowing with feral intelligence. They charged forward with terrifying speed toward Benjen's men.
Benjen watched in horror as one female dire wolf lunged at his Ranger who had aimed at the boy just moments before; her powerful jaws clamped down on his arm with bone-crushing force before dragging him away into the shadows.
"Fall back! Fall back!" Benjen yelled desperately as he tried to rally his remaining men amidst panic and confusion.
The wild child darted past him with surprising agility, moving alongside one of the dire wolves that had come to its aid—an unholy alliance forged in desperation or perhaps kinship? Together they fled deeper into the forest toward Nightfort while Benjen stood frozen for a moment longer in disbelief at what he had witnessed.
"What just happened?" one Ranger gasped beside him as he struggled to comprehend their sudden turn from hunters to prey.
"I don't know," Benjen replied grimly, still staring into where shadows swallowed up both child and beast alike. "But we need to regroup and report back."
As they retreated cautiously from what remained of their ambush site—now littered with evidence of violence—they couldn't shake off feelings of dread or questions left unanswered: Who was this wild child? What connection did he have with those fearsome wolves?