Book 1: Prints in the Snow

Chapter III • Dire Needs

"By the Gods, what is it?"

"Can't you see it's a wolf?"

The beast lying dead before them was of a monstrous size. A grey she-wolf with lighter flecks lay bloodied in the dirt, a long branch of some sort protruding from her throat. A few yards from the wolf was the body of a stag. One antler appeared to be broken.

"It's a freak." Theon all but spat while they marveled at the size of the wolf

"It's a dire wolf." Ned Stark said and dismounted his horse. Lyon followed suit and strode toward the carcass. He knelt and she stood behind him. Jon, Theon, Robb, and Bran hovered as well.

He reached a hand into the dire wolf's mouth and grasped the branch. With a forceful tug, he dislodged the object, bloodied and not at all a branch. The broken half of the stag's antler had been what killed the wolf, but such a simple reminder of prey and predator irked her. The stag was the sigil of the House Baratheon, and the dire wolf was the sigil of House Stark. An omen, perhaps, or just a coincidence. Regardless, they were all silent when they set eyes upon the antler.

"There are no dire wolves south of the wall." Robb argued.

Jon suddenly knelt at the dire wolf's belly, moving it lightly and revealing the squabble of several pups at the carcass' teats. "Now there are five." He picked one of gray and white scattered fur and held it to Bran. "Do you want to hold it?"

Lyon stepped forward and knelt beside the carcass' belly, reaching a hand in to move the body further. A fifth honey pelt glistened among the four at the belly. "You mean six." She said, reaching a hand in and gently pulling the blond dire wolf pup from its mother's belly. She lifted him up, inspecting the pale coat and glistening blue eyes.

"Well look at that, he looks just like you." Robb chuckled, coming forth to pat the pup on the head.

"Still better looking than you, anyways." She pulled the pup back, becoming satisfied as it cuddled into the warmth of her furs.

The pup Bran held whimpered as he held it. "Where will they go?" He asked. "Their mother's dead."

Plump Rodrick Cassel looked upon the scene with a frown. "They don't belong down here."

Their father stood, unsheathing his sword. Frost suddenly took Lyon's heart and she hugged the pup closer. "Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother."

"Right." Theon's knife came from his sheath and he wrenched the pup out of Bran's hold. "Give it here."

"No!"

Robb scowled at the Greyjoy. "Put away your blade."

"Do as he says, Greyjoy." Lyon's eyes met with Theon's. For a moment there was a silent battle between them.

"I take orders from your father, not either of you."

Her fist clenched around the pup's fur as she pushed him into Robb, releasing her hold to step to Theon.

"Please, father!" Bran begged.

"I'm sorry, Bran."

"It is unwise to slay that which is the sigil of your house. As if the dire wolf and the stag were not ominous enough-"

"There is a dire wolf for each of your children, Lord Stark." Jon, thank the Gods, came to the rescue. "Six pups. They were meant to have them."

Theireyes went to their father, high and hopeful. It was a long silence that they waited in before he finally spoke.

"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves."

She felt relief let her shoulders fall, and even Theon sheathed the blade he held and gave the pup back to Bran. He turned to Leon, eyes narrowed before he let them fall. She sidestepped away as Robb brought two pups into Theon's arms and he began to carry them off.