Oathkeeper

Chapter 70: A Crack in the Ground

Winter galloped many feet ahead of Ilizabeth and Mundy. They often lost sight of him throughout the travels, sometimes for several minutes at a time. Whether it was because of the impending darkness growing in the mosaic of oranges, purples, and blue, or because of the copious amount of energy he had charging him forward. He left paw prints in the snow, leaving a trail of his whereabouts behind for them to follow. The pair approached the start of their second night's journey, placing them within a two mile radius on the nearest viable river.

The walk wasn't nearly as strenuous as Ilizabeth imagined it would be. Sure the harsh current of air would blow the flakes up from the ground and into her face occasionally. And yes, the decaying moss, soil, and trees curated a foul earthy odor, one that reminded her of urine and dirt. But those were the least of her worries. She feared that her legs would give out from having to hike up mountains that were as tall as the sky. Or even as she marched through the thick piles of white that would naturally slow their pace.

To her surprise, the snow had been more than manageable. They'd been heaving their legs through it since the sun rose, and Ilizabeth's body hardly tired. There were few changes to the terrain as well. They followed a path for most of the journey, one that avoided the large mountains but instead sent them down plains, and occasionally small mountains and plateaus.

Their trip had been astonishingly simple. Some would even use the word, pleasant. They'd spent more than twenty four hours alone together, and they weren't bickering about the 'real north', or how eating with forks and spoons was pointless. Instead they shared stories. Bouncing from their favorite childhood moments, to the craziest thing they'd ever done.

Mundy told elaborate stories. Ones that involved her hollering at the top of lungs, and waving her arms around as she wafted her oniony underarm scent into the cool winds. The grandness of Mundy's stories made Ilizabeth feel small and boring. A feeling the princess was completely unfamiliar with. Mundy had listed a few different events, labeling them all as her craziest moment ever. Including the time where she claims to have climbed a tree and caught a bird with her bare hands.

But Mundy didn't think Ilizabeths stories were boring at all. As they traveled through the frosty evening air, each carrying their side of the water drum by the handle, she insisted Ilizabeth tell her everything about her mothers, and brother. She was fascinated by the nature of her family existing south of the wall.

"So your mother Sansa is Jon's little sister, and your other mother is . . . ? " Mundy trailed off.

"Her name is Brienne, she's actually a southerner," Ilizabeth emphasized the word with a giggle. "She's from an island called Tarth,"

"How far south?" Her tone spiking at the end with curiosity.

"It's practically on the other end of the country and it's so hot that it never snows there," Ilizabeth went on.

"Never?" Mundy repeated with wide eyes.

"No,"

"Weird,"

"She's always liked the north though even though she pretends not to," Ily playfully rolled her eyes, "I halfway think she was destined to be a Stark,"

"She's a Stark too?"

"Not in the manner in which they are related," She explained in a chuckle, "I just meant that she took my mother Sansa's name when they married,"

"I thought your people shunned those sort of relationships?" Mundy inquired.

The frizzy haired ginger's questioning sent Ilizabeth reverting into her own mind. She'd heard her fair share of the songs and jests the people made in regards to her mothers relationship. But she never could have predicted that anyone would want to bring physical harm to her family. She knew it was naive to think that way. Perhaps the royal princess' life was lived through a lens that blurred out all the hate, inequality, and injustice.