Book 2: The Secrets We Covet

Chapter 7 - Captain Jerro

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The convoy of soldiers numbering at a mere forty men entered Robb Stark's camp early in the night, led by the silver dire wolf. Winter lumbered through the camp, head toward the ground as she searched for the familiar scent of the King in the North.

"Halt!" A voice called. A scout strode toward the group atop a horse followed by several other soldiers. "What brings you lot here?"

"We're here to fight for the King in the North." A shape stepped out from the formation. "We were sent by a friend of the King."

"And who is this friend?"

"They've asked we don't speak their name to anyone but the King. Lest they are placed in danger."

Scouts and soldiers of Robb Stark's army peered at one another. "Get the King," one of them said, and another took off at a run in search for Robb. The group of men did not wait long. In heavy furs, Robb Stark strode through the night to confront them. He did not have to say a word before his eyes landed on the beast that led them. Winter sat silently, his eyes on him as though she could see well into his soul. Grey-Wind, his own direwolf, bounded toward him and the two wolves reunited.

"You were sent by our mutual friend." Robb began, "how many of you are there?"

"About forty, your Grace. But more are coming. There are many who would fight for your cause."

"So I can see." He stepped forward, whistled for Grey Wind to return to him. Winter followed, quick on his heels, nuzzling the King as he loved to do. "And how is our mutual friend?"

"Well, Your Grace. Fighting tooth and nail for you."

Robb was silent, running his hands through Winter's fur. "Then I see no reason why you should not fight. Not for me, but for your freedom, and justice. My men will distribute you amongst our ranks. We fight not to spill blood but to bring peace. Remember that."

With that, Robb turned and strode back to his tent, Winter and Grey Wind following. Winter's eyes crossed over the camp, falling upon a golden-haired prisoner sitting quietly in his cage. Their eyes met and recognition crossed between them.

_ _ _

"It looks like it hurts."

"It doesn't. Not too terribly, at least. It'll heal." Lyon lightly touched her bruised cheekbone but didn't let the stab of pain slow her pace. She'd finally gotten Sansa to speak to her after the ordeal with the mob. Sansa was slowly beginning to see Lyon's side of things.

"How did you... kill?"

"It seems a terribly impossible thing to do, doesn't it?" Lyon asked. Sansa nodded. "I thought it would be too, but to protect you I was prepared to do anything I could. Don't feel guilty. Those men were hungry, but hunger doesn't make a rapist. Fed or not, they would've found other ways to terrorize women."

"I suppose..."

"But that's all in the past now. We should relax, I think. One of these evenings, you, me, our handmaidens, we should get together and have a night. Just us girls. What do you think? I'm sure there are some wonderful stories to be told." Lyon struck a smile, one that was rather difficult to say no to. A smile grew on Sansa, lighting her features up. Lyon hadn't seen her as such in some time.

"I'd like that."

"Good. Then I'll make it happen."

They both smiled a little longer, striding down the castle halls. They weren't alone, however, as the Hound turned a corner, heading toward them. Lyon moved closer to Sansa, but the younger girl picked up the pace, headed toward him.