A/N: So this chapter is a little longer, and we hope it'll tie you over a little better until the next one! ;) Enjoy!

They had been on the road for over a fortnight, and Margaery wasn't used to this kind of travel. Before now, it was always servants and elaborate litters, sometimes accompanied by her grandmother. Now, she felt as though she were about to fall off her horse.

And she nearly did.

"Halt!" Sterlan shouted, and jumped off his horse just in time to steady her in her saddle. Her eyes were falling shut, and she looked like she was about to fall asleep where she sat. Sterlan saw all this in a single glance, and he knew that they couldn't keep going like this. Even his men were getting weary. "We'll camp here for the night," he said, even though it was only just past dusk. The men sighed in relief; they hadn't rested for a full night since they'd fled King's Landing.

"Where are we?" Lady Margaery - or, rather, Bethany Flowers - said, barely above a whisper.

Sterlan consulted his map. "We should be just north of Moat Cailin. White Harbour is to the northeast. By my estimate, we made it just past the Neck two days ago." A grim smile crossed his face. "We're in the North now. We should be out of danger."

"There's no such thing," she replied, bitterness creeping into her voice.

He decided to let that comment go, and ordered Darrin and Brandeth to set up camp while 'Bethany' rested on a nearby rock. Darrin had a fire burning in a matter of minutes, and Sterlan laid out the bedrolls while Brandeth went hunting for dinner. He took a good look at her, staring blankly into the fire, not moving, not blinking. It was something greater than the resignation that had been weighing her down since they left the Capitol.

"Bethany," he said softly, calling her by her new name. "You need to sleep." He fought not to add the 'my lady' at the end, because even though she looked like a serving girl in her simple dress and breeches, she was still every inch a lady.

"How can I sleep when what I see in my dreams is worse than what I see with my waking eyes?" She asked.

Sterlan had no answer. "Even so, my lady..."

'Bethany' turned to him sharply. "I'm not a lady. Not anymore." He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and gestured towards the bedroll. Finally, Bethany crawled into it and went to sleep.

/*/

Margaery felt much better during the next few days, especially when Sterlan decided that they were far enough from King's Landing to make camp every night. But she should have known things wouldn't go well for long.

It had been two days since they'd camped out for the first time when things started to go wrong. She was certain they'd made a wrong turn somewhere, when she noticed that the woods started getting more and more dense. The thicker undergrowth and lack of any proper paths made it hard for the horses to go any faster than a walk, and Sterlan and the other knights were getting nervous.

"Something's wrong, the forest isn't supposed to be this wild," Sterlan said, almost to himself.

"Well, then, where are we?" Margaery asked.

For a long time, Sterlan didn't reply, and Margaery was starting to think that maybe he wasn't going to. "It's possible we're in the Wolfswood," he replied eventually.

Frowning, Margaery went over her rough mental map of the North. "Isn't that on the route to Bear Island?" Truthfully, she wasn't as familiar with the North as she was with the southern Kingdoms, but as far as she knew, the Wolfswood was the only thing west of Winterfell.

"We were trying to skirt around it, Bethany," Darrin said, looking around warily. "And we shouldn't get too close to Winterfell, now that the Starks have been deposed. The Boltons aren't..." he trailed off, looking at her strangely. "They have a reputation. A bad one."

"I remember their sigil," she said grimly. "'A flayed man has no secrets'."

Brandeth nodded solemnly. "Which is exactly why we were going around the woods, following the coast until we could make the crossing to Bear Island."

"So how do we find our way out of here?" she asked, a little concerned now. She'd heard many a horror story about these woods as a child. Everyone knew the North was a wild country, and the Wolfswood even more so. She was certain the childhood tales of men eaten alive by direwolves in these woods had been highly embellished with time, but nonetheless, they suddenly came back to the front of her mind. She couldn't help looking around warily, scanning her surroundings for any movement.

Brandeth looked up, straining to see the sun. The trees grew so tall and thick here, it was almost impossible to see, never mind navigating by it. "We'll need to climb. Get a better view and set a course."

Darrin was already getting off his horse. He was by far the better climber and had the sharpest eyes. "I'll be down in a moment!" he said, hoisting himself onto a low branch and scampering up the tree.

Margaery always had to smile when she saw him climb up so effortlessly. In her mind, she'd often compared it to a squirrel, but she'd never say that to the handsome knight's face. But within moments, he was back down, his face now crossed with worry. "We've strayed too close, I could see Winterfell. This close, there's bound to be patrol parties coming through the woods."

"Which way?" Sterlan asked urgently. The last thing they needed was to be caught by Boltons in the Wolfswood.

Darrin pointed to Margaery's right. "We can reach the coast in a day's ride, I believe."

Sterlan nodded. "Get back on your horse. We're leaving. Now."

They went as fast as they dared make the horses go, but it wasn't fast enough. Soon, the sound of barking hounds followed them, echoing through the trees. Sterlan cursed. "They've got our scent. We have to go faster."

"We'll kill the horses if we speed up any more," Brandeth protested.

"We'll get ourselves killed if we don't," Sterlan shot back. "And the Boltons won't have a pleasant end in store for us if they catch us."

"Well then let's go!" Margaery shouted, snapping the reins and spurring on her horse. The guards promptly followed suit, catching up the short distance she made.

Darrin surged ahead, leading the way. "We should head straight North. No point trying to reach the coast now."

"If it gets us out of this godforsaken wood any faster, we should do it," Sterlan said.

Margery could hear the hounds getting louder, and her heart quickened. She leaned over her horse in an effort to go faster, snapping the reins once more. She was not about to be caught by the Boltons. Not after making it this far.

It didn't take long for them to realize that Bolton's hounds were far better equipped to run in the woods, and that they were gaining on them. And if their hounds were close, the patrol couldn't be far behind.

Darrin slowed down, and Margaery followed his lead.

"No, my lady, keep going, as fast as you can," he said, holding up a hand.

Margaery frowned in confusion. "I don't understand, what about you?" she asked.

The other two knights refused to reply, and Sterlan came up beside her, slapping her horse's behind. The beast shot forwards, closely followed by the mounts of the other men, while Darrin stayed behind. "What's happening?" she shouted over the wind. "Where is he going?"

"They would have caught us. It's our sworn duty to protect you!" Brandeth shouted back. And then she realized what was going on. Darrin would hold up the patrol, perhaps even make them think that he was the only one there. He was sacrificing himself for her.

Margaery choked down a sob. There would be time to mourn later; now, they had to get away. His sacrifice would not be in vain.

/*/

She didn't know how long they'd been riding after they left Darrin behind. She was terrified, exhausted, and stricken by Darrin's death all at once. Although, maybe he got away, maybe he was still leading them on a different path, maybe… But she knew in her heart that she was only trying to convince herself.

She shook off her thoughts and steeled herself. Now was not the time. There was only one goal: survive.

Eventually, night fell, though Margaery knew it wasn't that late yet. In the North, the days didn't last long. They slowed down somewhat; the horses wouldn't be able to keep up the frantic pace much longer. "Can you hear the hounds anymore?" she asked Sterlan.

He listened for a moment before shaking his head. "But that doesn't mean they're not on our trail anymore. We can't rest for the night."

Margaery cursed under her breath. "We need a body of water, something to throw them off the trail," Brandeth said, hearing her.

Sterlan consulted his map again. "The closest water source is at Deepwood Motte. We're nowhere close," he said grimly. "I think."

Margaery groaned. Their mad dash must have gotten them even more off course than they had been before. "Damn this wood. Which way should we go?"

Sterlan sighed, putting his map away. "When in doubt, we should head north. It's away from the Lannisters in King's Landing, and away from the Boltons here."

She nodded, clenching her jaw. "Then let's keep going."

Without warning, an arrow pierced straight through Brandeth's neck. He gurgled, clutching at his throat and making a horrific choking sound as blood poured down his chest. Margaery watched in horror as he slid from his horse, but one of his feet got stuck in the stirrups. His horse reared as a Bolton man crashed through the bushes, taking off and dragging the poor knight behind him.

"Go, now!" Sterlan shouted to Margaery, already turning to the other man.

Margaery hesitated for a moment longer, but she knew it would be pointless to argue now. She took off, sending her horse after Brandeth's panicked one. It had cleared something of a path in the undergrowth, and ,though the trail of blood made her nauseous, it was her best choice.

She had to keep going, no matter what. She had to survive.

/*/

It took her two days before she reached water. She had no idea where she was; if she was getting close to Deepwood Motte, or heading towards the Wall, but she had no choice. She had to keep going. She stopped long enough to refill her canteen before getting back on her mount, ignoring the furious saddle sores on the insides of her thighs.

When she finally found a shallow enough passing, she made her way across the river. She wasn't sure, but she thought the river would feed into a lake farther down. Once at the other bank, she followed it north, wanting to keep the source of water close.

Her problem wasn't water, however, it was food. She only had a small dagger, and a few meager provisions, and she had no experience hunting or setting traps. At this rate, she'd run out of food in a day. Loras would have known what to do; he'd been the one who'd gotten to learn this sort of thing.

She couldn't keep going through the night, neither her horse nor she could keep that up. But every night when she lay down her head to sleep, she thought she heard the hounds. And even if she managed to sleep, she saw Darrin sacrifice himself, saw Brandeth's throat pierced. And who knew what had happened to Sterlan? She was truly alone.

At least, that's what she thought.

It wasn't until her horse died of exhaustion and starvation that she realized just how alone she was, in the cold, dark northern woods.

She wondered how hard would it be to lie down and not get up. How long would it take for the Boltons to find me and flay me living? She found that she didn't even care anymore.

But she kept going.

She'd promised Sterlan, Darrin, Brandeth, and her grandmother before that, that she would keep going. And it was that one thought that consumed her mind. She could think of nothing else as she kept putting one blistered, bleeding foot in front of the other, until…

Until nothing.

A/N: Be sure to let us know what you think!