The Little Wolf

The Monster Escapes

Lev watched on in silent zeal. If he could, he would turn into a hyena so he could laugh at his cheeky master's plan unfolding. When he tapped into Lyra's mind only weeks ago, the plan was in disarray, yet now it was unfolding.

He was hidden in the shadows of the room, a mere spider on the wall. The spider was the Outsider symbol of making your own decisions, and being in control of your destiny. For that, Lev smiled at his transformation, at Lyra's. She was the captain now, she was in charge.

Bloodied and mangled, the body lay on the floor. The face was unidentifiable; it was a battered mess, covered in blood and dust. A rusty nail was in a pool of blood nearby, and up above was morbid writing was on the wall; writing in blood. The wall had been Lyra's canvas, the blood of her foe the paint. All the wall spoke was one word, but a word that made even Ser Deacon's skin crawl - "Monster".

He had unleashed the monster.

Lev watched on as Ser Deacon stared at the mangled body on the ground. With a look of abhorrence on his scowling face, he struggled to recognise the body. It was so beaten, and mangled and bloodied, he no longer could see the face of the boy underneath or defining details; even his lank hair was mattered and dampened with blood.

The boy seemed smaller now, no longer as fat. His black clothes hung off him and was not hugging his overweight figure. Yet, anyone who had been attacked by a five year old would probably feel pretty small. Ser Deacon screamed for the guards, and three of them rushed into the room.

Lev crawled back toward the wall more, back into the shadows. He squished his spider form into the tightest ball he could muster, and closed seven of his eight eyes. The booming voice of Ser Deacon reverberated all around the room, and it even sent a soft vibration to the wall Lev was standing on. Still, he didn't move, he only watched the performance unfold.

Ser Deacon barked at the guards, and sent one off to alert all that a monster was on the loose. Like all the other rumours and stories about the younger Stark, this one would spread quickly, too. On his nights roaming the halls of the castle, or sitting perched in a tree near to his master's distressed cries, a hushed whisper, a fable to scare children, was born. The story was that of a girl who became a monster, and crept about in the shadows, eating children who strayed.  "The Madness of Lyra Stark" kept children close to their parents, and forbid them for stepping into the shadows, for that is where the monster lurked.

 At first it saddened Lev, until he thought about it further, and the perks of such a fable became known. If it means people fear his girl, then maybe, for some time, Lyra will be left alone because of this fear. He smiled to himself. 

One of the two guards remaining knelt by the bloodied body's side, and rested his head on its chest. After several seconds, he shot up and said, "He's alive! He's breathing!"

Ser Deacon showed not even the slightest hint of  consolation, instead he just asked through gritted teeth, "Why in Seven Hell's would the Monster keep the boy alive?!"

The second guard, standing on the other side of the body, said, "We should take him to the Maester or the Silent Sisters, they'll nurse him and bring him back. Then, perhaps, he can tell us where the monster fled."

A sound of bells was heard, bells alerting all that the monster had escaped, and Lev shrunk deeper into the shadow. The gates would be closed, the guards would be assembled. They would shoot arrows from every window and battlement, they would kill the Monster at first glance.

Lev just hoped Lyra's plan worked.

Ser Deacon drew his sword and sprinted out of the room, screaming something inaudible. The guards assembled at either end of the body and lifted it into the air, rushing it out of the blood soaked room and to a Maester. The Maester's dungeons were lower down in the castle, not too far from the dungeons.

Lev scurried along behind them, his eight feet dancing joyfully. He was leaving the room, just as Lyra had. So far, her plan was working. Not one person had figured it out yet, instead, they were walking farther into Lyra's trap, and just now, they were walking Lyra farther out of the castle.

Lev cried with joy.

His master was most certainly wise.