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AS THEY TRAVELED, neither Ser Yohn, nor Eddard spoke. Ethan Glover had done enough speaking. Both Yohn and Eddard understood this loss and betrayal. Deftly, they pressed their way down the Giants Lance, climbing down by foot for a way, their sure feet and strong hand a product of the long years spend in the mountainous dwelling. When they reached the mule trails that dig into the side of the mountain like terraces, Eddard took off his jerkin, then his Stark emblazoned dublet. He replaced it with a sigilless one with the color of burgundy and slipped on a traveler's cloak so that no one in the Valley who knew his face could see it.
Ser Royce looked upon the young lord with sad eyes, but continued on their silence. The miles took them south to the Bloody Gate where they exchanged their mounts to horses, but looking back. Ned deducted that it would be easier to leave if he didn't look back. What made their journey so disheartening was that the Fingers were at the northernmost border of the Vale, meaning they would have to double back north from The Bloody Gate and re-trek the mountainous region
As they rode through the rocky country, the sun lowered into the mountains leaving it dusk through the Vale. Ned frowned at the fact. He knew it would be easier to travel unnoticed, but he knew for sure that it wouldn't be easier to travel in general. Especially on the water. Ned hoped that he gods would grant him mercy in his travels. They traveled for hours, not entirely getting through the Mountains of the Moon until the sun had completely set.
The knight and Lord could finally see the moon reflecting off the black waters of the Bite. The Bite was the name of the gulf that laid off the edge of both the Vale and the North. The maps called it the Bite for the frigidness of the water. If one was to crash, the water was so could that it bite their skin. Enormous glaciers floated from the north of the Narrow Sea. The Fingers were a set of peninsulas located on the uppermost border of the Vale. There were four, and they were, well, shaped long and thin like fingers.
The night was dreary and cold and Eddard Stark, Lord Paramount and Warden of the North strode across the boarding plank of Calm Blue, a boat belonging to a fisherman, with a heavy heart and a clouded head. He pulled his furs tighter around his shoulders and nuzzled his mouth into them.
It was not that the air was so cold. It was the Northern winds that came frigid and cutting. The water was heavy in the night air. The black, icy waters of the Bite churned and crashed, threatening a storm. Ned did his best to ignore it. He had to get to Winterfell, storm or not. Once he was on board, Ned turned to get one last look at the Vale, for it was unlikely he'd never see it again. Unfortunately, the clouds were too thick and the sky was too dark to allow Ned another look.
He sighed and walked to the front deck where the fisherman's daughter was pulling nets over the railing. Jon gave Ser Yohn heavy funds to pay off a common fisherman to take Ned across the Bite and into White Harbor with secrecy. He couldn't travel on a ship of his own with a direwolf banner flying or else people would know. He had a price on his head now, and he must be discreet while traveling.
