Marina's green eyes filled with tears as the truth picked apart her mentality, shattering the very beliefs she thought she understood. It had been them all along, everything that has lead to this moment was planned. Every word that slivered past the...
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RAST HAD ALL BUT STUMBLED INTO KARL TANNER'S TENT. The stout man had wheezed, gulping in air that he had been denied while running.
"What in the seven hells is wrong with you?" Karl asks in irritation. When Rast didn't immediately answer—thanks to his wheezing— one of Tanner's men jabbed him in his gut "Well? What had you running out of the woods?"
"I've only ever seen you run that fast for food." Another man chortles.
Rast hadn't heard him, or perhaps he did, and didn't react because he had become numb to their teasing. Regardless, Rast frowns, trying to remember what it was he was running from.
He remembers leaving the baby on the frozen stump. He remembers walking away from it while it wailed into the bitter winds. He remembers seeing the direwolf in a cage, growling when he approached. But after that his mind drew a blank. He fell in the snow, stood up, saw a flash of red then he was running.
"Did it take your tongue too?" Karl asks, still waiting for an answer.
"N-no. I can't remember."
"You can't remember?" Karl repeats to himself.
Rast immediately tries to explain, " I thought I heard something in the woods. It was— something. I think it was a person, but I took off before whatever it was could get too close."
Meera and Bran shared a hopeful glance. The relief that flooded through their veins almost made them forget about the predicament they're in—almost. Unfortunately, Karl noticed the small exchange.
Slowly, as if stalking prey, "You know what that was?" He asks, to which he doesn't receive a reply. The kids went back to looking straight ahead with their mouths shut. "Still don't want to talk eh? You obviously haven't played this game before."
Bran gulped but remained quiet.
"You see. You're a highborn hostage, you're valuable. Only now there's three of you. That's a lot of mouths to feed." Karl slowly pulls out his knife, though he keeps his eyes on Meera's curly brown hair. No doubt he had plans for the young girl, plans that no man should have— especially for a child.
Jojen toppled over, convulsing as white foam bubbles between his lips. Meera immediately makes an effort to help her brother but is grabbed by Karl. His heavy hand gripped her hair so that she is pressed to his chest with his knife to her neck.
"Who are you?" He demands.
"Please" she whimpers. "Please let me help him."
"Who are you?" He asks once again, pressing the blade farther into her neck. The act drew a small speck of blood that trailed along the knife and down the pale skin of her neck.
"I'm Brandon Stark!" Bran hollers. "I'm Brandon Stark of Winterfell."
Karl looked back over his shoulder at the boy as Rast stepped between them. The stout man recognized his name.
