𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦
______________________

____ The gentle and soothing rush of the crystal waters of the Bite, a bay connecting to the Narrow Sea, accented the bright sun of the dawning sky glowing upon the shimmering waters whilst a summer snow leaked from the cloudless sky, the flakes melting upon the warm touch of the waters below the Northern sky. The flakes of the summer snow left kisses upon the grass, that resembled the colors of ferns spread across the floors of the known Wolfwood in the North.

The secondborn son of House Stark laid before the Bite, so close that if he were to stretch his booted feet downwards the tips of his toes would sink beneath the warmth of the waters, with the direwolves, Alysanne and Greywind by his side, as always. The black direwolf laid beside her Stark with her wolf head on his thighs, receiving soothing caresses from her loving Stark, whilst the bright gray direwolf stretched himself out behind his Stark's brother, Rikson leaning his back against the direwolf's side, lifting with every breath from the large wolf, which oddly comforted the young Stark boy.

Some days had past since the young Wolves rode through the gates of their home to march south and play the game of thrones to save their pack trapped in the jaws of the prideful Lions. And the eldest of the Stark brothers had noticed, ever since the Northerners began to sleep underneath the stars, the nightmares plaguing his younger brother had begun to, supposedly, fade away as he noticed the, rather faint, bags underneath Rikson's Northern blue eyes beginning to fade as he seemed more well-rested than Robb had ever seen him ever since his brother had returned from beyond the Wall a year ago. And that reassured the eldest of the Starks more than anything as he worried for his brother more than anything, or anyone, ever since they had left the walls of their home some days ago.

Although Rikson Stark still worried, greatly, for his precious family, as did Robb, but now, without his nightmares of the past plaguing him, he felt more determined than ever to ride South to the capital, free his father and sisters and kill all the Lions.

Rikson of House Stark, the Midnight Wolf, had a fight forged in the unforgiving breath of winter inside of him, and nothing.. nothing.. was going to melt it.

Though, a tendril of fear still lingered inside of the fierce Wolf's heart.

Fear of what the Lannisters could be doing to his sweet sister, Sansa, in their den.. for all he knew Prince... King.. Joffrey could be torturing his sister, beating her in the streets of the capital as the Southerners laughed and shouted insults to her.

Rikson shivered in both rage, and dread, at the thought, wanting nothing more than to ride South and rip the Lions to bloody shreds. Alysanne licked her Stark's hand that rested beside his thigh, the other still caressing her soft fur, as if telling her Stark she would kill all the Lions for him, and their siblings.

The secondborn also feared for his youngest sister, his little wolf, Arya.. feared what became of her. Ever since the letter flew from the South, the Starks had not heard a word of young Arya. Rikson didn't want to think this, but he couldn't stop it, as the thought of his little wolf's corpse laying in the sewers beneath the capital, severely skinny from starvation.. or worse. He feared for his father, the man he had always looked up to. The man who taught him, almost, everything he knew about the world, and his skills in swordsmanship. Though he knew the Lannisters wouldn't dare do anything to their father, just yet, if they ever wanted to sue for peace.

They will.. for a ruthless Winter is Coming for House Lannister, Rikson, proudly, thought to himself.

The direwolf, whose fur shimmered beneath the rays of the sun, huffed, as if he sensed the Stark's thoughts, and, lazily, shifted his head closer to the Stark, demanding his attention. With a grin, Rikson began to caress Greywind's head, as well as, still caressing Alysanne with his other hand, giving both of the wolves the affection they wanted. The young Stark, softly smiling at his brother's direwolf with a fondness in his eyes, that were brighter than they had been some days ago, returned his gaze onto the crystal waters of the bay that laid before him and the direwolves.

The ambiance of the Northern army's camp, distanced to mere echoes by the forest of tall trees between the three wolves and the camp of the Northerners, remind the young Stark of the path of war that laid ahead of him, and his brother.

The sound of the stallions and mares nickering between one another.. like the thunder of hooves riding into battle on a field with a sky that weeps tears of blood.

The chattering, occasionally followed by shouts of laughter and yells of protest, of the Northerners as they go about their day.. like the soldiers of war falling to the sword of death with a silent scream of agony.

Rikson releases a breath, his shoulders slumping as he sinks into Greywind's fluffy fur, whom whimpers as he nudges his head even closer to the Stark, blinking the thoughts of battle away from his mind as he wonders on the thought of where he is now...

Laying before the bay of water, known as the Bite that leads into the Narrow Sea, beside the coat of a forest that lays on the grounds on the border to the Riverlands, his mother's ancestral home, with a military camp filled to the brim with an army of Northerners loyal to his eldest brother, whom he will ride beside on the path of war ahead of them. And, if Rikson of House Stark was honest with himself, no matter the courage of ice inside of him, he knew he could never be ready for the war that looks upon him with a ruthless flame...

Rikson breathes another breath, allowing his nerves to escape him, even for just a moment of time, as the breath fades into a faint, white puff of air before his, lightly, cracked lips.

"I will protect my family,
no matter the cost."

The young Stark spoke to himself, his words spoken so softly it was as if they were the winds themselves.

The direwolves' ears twitch towards the sound of boots walking across the floors of the forest behind them, lifting their heads towards the source, only to lower their heads onto the secondborn, once more, Alysanne returning her head on her Stark's thighs with the tip of Greywind's snout laying on Rikson's thigh, his tail beginning to wag at the sight of his Stark.

Curious, the secondborn son turns his head towards whomever was approaching him and the wolves, his eyes landing upon his eldest brother, Robb.

"Hello, Robb."

"Riks."

Robb kneels beside his direwolf, caressing Greywind's head as the wolf removes his head from Rikson's thigh and onto his Stark's knees, his tail continuing to wag in excitement to have both of the Starks beside him.

The Stark brothers, then, take a moment of time to admire the beauty of silence before them.

The flakes of the summer snow melting upon the kisses of warmth of the rippling waters as the rays of the waking sun shimmers on the Bite. The gentle breeze of the dawn sweeping through the tips of the brothers' hair and the wolves' fur, accented by the sweet song of rippling water and the tweets of the song birds in the tall trees in the forest.

Before the eldest of the brothers breaks the silence, "I came to gather you, the Lords want to begin discussing our first attack against the Lannisters." Releasing a huff, the secondborn Stark nods his head of wavy hair before standing on his booted feet, the black direwolf huffing in displeasure as she stands with her Stark, leaning against his side.

"Then let's not keep them waiting."

The Stark brothers begin to walk towards the Northerners camp, with the direwolves standing on either side of them. Though, when the brothers walk through the forest and enter the grounds of the camp, the wolves choose to stay in the woods, keeping red and gold eyes on their Starks until they disappear in a tent, before they rush deep into the woods to hunt for their first meal of the day ahead of them, and their Starks.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

A gentle breeze flows across the lands, that make up the border of the North & the Riverlands, as a white stallion and a brown mare ride onto a hillside that overlooks the Northern encampment.

The unmistakable banners of House Stark dance with the breeze, held by men whom stand proud on the watchtower on the hillside beside the camp or by thick wooden poles spread across the camp, whilst the banners of the Northern Houses, that have pledged themselves to fight beside the Starks, are spread across the grounds. The light coat of the summer snow accenting the light green grass and gray tents spread across the lands hidden behind a forest and thick bushes.

Upon the white stallion, Ser Rodrik Cassel glances about the camp with pride in his aged eyes, noticing the woman beside him held the same expression, although more pride alongside a wariness.

"Summer snows, My Lady."

Lady Catelyn Stark's teary Tully blue eyes glance about the encampment of Northerners the eldest of her sons have led South to free their father and sisters from the arrogant Lions, and her voice is filled with pride as she says, "Robb and Rikson have brought the North with them." The Lady, then, kicks her mare into a trot, with Ser Rodrik beside her, riding through the camp, receiving respectful bows alongside mutters of "My Lady" or "Lady Stark" as she makes her way towards the tent that contains her two eldest sons inside of it.

Lady Catelyn begins to hear the voice of Lord Umber's, followed by the voice of her eldest son's, Robb Stark, therefore, she swiftly halts her mare, before dismounting her, beside the tent the voices had come from and begins to walk towards it, with Ser Rodrik not far behind her.

"The River Lords are falling back..
with Jamie Lannister at their heels.. and Lord
Tywin is bringing around a second Lannister army from the south. Our scouts confirm it's even
larger than the Kingslayer's."

The voice of the eldest of the Stark children rings around the tent containing around six Northern Lords, the more recognizable being Lord Umber, Lord Glover, and Lord Karstark, sitting around a wooden table, with Robb Stark standing at the head of it, with his brother sitting beside him and Theon Greyjoy beside him.

A dark tan map, marked with the landmarks of the Seven Kingdoms, lays upon the table with the pawns of House Stark and Lannister upon it. The gray wolves, representing the Northern army, are placed upon their camp beside the Bite, whilst the red lions are placed upon Riverrun and the Westerlands, the Lion's Kingdom.

Lord Umber's voice, full of arrogance, spoke up after the eldest of the Stark brothers, "One golden army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times larger than these Lannister diseases."

Noticing something, more someone, walking towards the entrance of the tent, Lord Umber, abruptly, stood from his seat and bowed his head in respect.

Curious, the Stark brothers turned their heads towards whomever was behind them, their eyes widening when they laid sights on their mother, with Ser Rodrik behind her. The eldest turned around with a smile on his lips, as the secondborn stood from his seat with hast, though the Tully's sons halted themselves from bringing their sweet mother into an embrace in front of all the harsh Northern Lords, whom all stood and respectfully bowed to Lady Stark, "Mother!" Her sons spoke at once, with small smiles.

Lady Catelyn looked over both of her boys, whom softly smiled at her, and she was delighted to see the bags underneath her sweet boy's eyes were faded, now his blue eyes held a bright courage of ice in them. And her eldest, Robb, held himself like his father did, courageous with a true Stark's strength.

The future Northern War Hero beside his brother, the Midnight Wolf, a true Northern Warrior.

"You both look well." Lady Catelyn spoke with a faint layer of tears in her eyes, tears of pride.

Then the voice of Lord Umber broke the moment between mother and sons, "Lady Catelyn, you are a welcome sight in these troubled times."

"We had not thought to meet you here, My Lady." The young Greyjoy spoke, standing a step behind Rikson Stark, whom still looked at his mother with the worry he held for her lifting from his heavy shoulders. Lady Stark, removing her Tully gaze from her sons, glanced at all of the Lords in the tent before she looked towards the Greyjoy boy, "I had not thought to be here.. I would speak with my sons, alone. I know you will forgive me, My Lords."

"You heard her.. move your arses!" Lord Umber shouted, almost, instantly after Lady Stark spoke. "Come on, out!" Walking around the wooden table, as the Lords exited the tent with a respectful bow towards the Lady, Lord Umber approached the Greyjoy, "You too, Greyjoy, are you bloody deaf?" Shoving Theon out of the tent, earning a barely concealed snicker from the secondborn as his brother elbowed his side, "Have no fear, My Lady.. we'll shove our swords up Tywin Lannister's bunghole, and then it's on to the Red Keep to free Ned." Lord Umber then, roughly, patted Ser Rodrik's back, wrapping his arm around his shoulders as they began to converse amongst one another as old friends, walking away from the tent, leaving the Tully mother with her Stark sons.

And, once the Lords were out of their sight, the Stark sons did not waste a moment before they rushed to bring their mother into their arms, whom wrapped an arm around either of her sweet boys.. her grown boys whom were leading an army to war.

Rikson released a low breath, that released the tension in his muscles, comforted by the warm touch of his sweet mother, as he nuzzled into her cloak, before Lady Catelyn released her boys, laying a gloved hand on either of their cheeks, her thumbs stroking her boys' cheeks as they softly smiled at her.

"I remember the days the both of you came into this world," Mother, smiling, reminiscing on old times, looks towards her eldest, "red-faced, and squalling.. and you, my beautiful boy," Her Tully eyes looked towards her secondborn, "were as silent as the Godswood as your curious eyes glanced at everything around you." The Stark sons, softly, chuckle, as their mother continues, "Now, I find the both of you leading a host to war."

"There was no one else." Says Robb, followed by the response from his mother, "No one? Who were those men I saw here?"

"None of them are Starks." It was Rikson whom spoke. "All of them are seasoned in battle." And Lady Catelyn whom responded.

"If you think you can send me, send either of us, back to Winterfell.." Robb began to protest, but his mother hushed him, "Oh, would that I could."

The eldest of the sons, remembering the letter from the South, turned towards the table, as he spoke, "There was..." Robb walked towards the end of the wooden table, searching through the satchel that held all of the parchments that may hold value to the Northerners in the war, before finding what he were looking for, "... a letter." The eldest, then, walked towards his mother, laying the letter from the south in her outstretched hand, "From Sansa."

"From the Queen, you mean."

Lady Stark, then, sat on the wooden bench, closest to her, beside the table as her Tully blue eyes began to read the words written in young Sansa Stark's hands but the Queen's words. And Robb sat on the bench across his mother, as his brother stood beside him with his arms crossed as both of the boys watched their mother for her reaction to the horrible news from the capital in the South.

"There is no mention of Arya." Lady Catelyn spoke with a voice that shook with worry as she lifted her head of auburn Tully hair towards her sons once she were done reading the black ink on the parchment, and Rikson shook his head, "No." Laying the letter on the table beside her, Lady Stark looked out of the tent she sat in with her boys across from her, her Tully eyes swimming across the Northerners walking about the camp.

"How many men did you bring?"

"Eighteen-Thousand.. If I go to King's Landing,
and bend my knee to Joffrey.."

Lady Stark, immediately, shook her head as she responded with a worried tone of voice, "You would never be allowed to leave, either of you.. no." Lady Catelyn released a low breath, glancing towards the dirts below her booted feet, before looking towards her sons, once more, "Our best hope, our only hope.. is that you can defeat them in the field."

"And.. if we lose?" Rikson spoke.

"Do you know what happened to the Targaryen children.. when the Mad King fell?"

Rikson looked towards the ground below him as he responded, "They were butchered in their sleep."

"On the orders of Tywin Lannister.. and, the
years have not made him kinder. If you lose..
your sisters die, your father dies.. we die."

Rikson smirked as he lifted his head towards his mother, "Well, that makes it simple then." Lady Catelyn, barely containing a smirk at her son's arrogance, responds, "I suppose it does."

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

In the hour of the dusk sun, when the sun's hues of golden flames spread across the lands of Westeros as the sky was tinted with dragon-fire tangerine and flower-petal lavender, with the night's breeze beginning to sweep across the lands and the creatures of the night began to hum their songs, the secondborn son of House Stark found himself inside of his tent with the direwolves and his mother beside him.

Rikson Stark was sat at the wooden, rounded table in the middle of his tent with the black direwolf laying at his feet, her ruby eyes closed as she napped beside the comfort of her Stark's presence, whilst Greywind sat beside the Stark, laying his snout on his lap. The Stark caressed Greywind's head, whom demanded his attention as he had in the hour of the dawn, and the Tully mother softly smiled at her son and his brother's wolf, sitting in the seat across from him.

"I see nothing has changed, those wolves
still adore you to no end."

Rikson snickered, removing his gaze from the direwolf and onto his mother, "I'm starting to believe that I was a direwolf in a past life, with all the attention they give me. I could never be in a room alone without them flocking to my side, not that I mind." Lady Catelyn, softly, chuckled, looking at her secondborn with a fondness in her Tully eyes, as he returned his gaze onto his brother's wolf.

When Lady Stark had left Winterfell all those weeks ago, her beautiful boy had been plagued with nightmares and worry to no end. He had, although faint, bags underneath his eyes that darkened with every day that passed them by, and not to mention his fainting episode the night the assassin tried to kill young Bran Stark. She had been so worried about him throughout her ride South to the capital.

But now, Lady Stark did not see layers of worry underneath her son's bright eyes. She did not see the remnants of nightmares on his young features. She did not see his shoulders sag with the weight of the fate of his family upon them.

No, Lady Stark saw her son's eyes brighter than they had ever been, a strength forged in the breath of winter held within them. She saw the hardness of a true Stark on his young features, the blood of the Wolf running through him. She saw him hold himself tall and courageous, a wild Wolf that would never bow to any of the Beasts of Westeros.

To say Lady Catelyn of House Stark and Tully was proud of her son would be the understatement of the century. The secondborn noticed the fondness and pride his mother's eyes held within them, therefore he, curiously, furrowed his brows, "What?"

"I-.. I'm just elated to see you so.. so tranquil,
would be the proper word, I think."

A soft grin adorned young Rikson's, blush red, lips, still caressing Greywind's head, as he spoke, "My nightmares haven't been plaguing me as often as they did in Winterfell.. and, sleeping under the stars and moon, I don't know maybe I'm talking silly, but it makes me feel more relaxed, almost.. like I'm ever closer to the sky." 

A silence of thought overtook the atmosphere in the tent of the secondborn Stark's, before Lady Stark broke it, "Why didn't you stay with Bran and Rickon, Riky? Why follow your brother to war?" Rikson released a heavy sigh, "Because I couldn't just stand by and watch as another member of this family left Winterfell without-.. without doing something. Call me reckless, say I should've stayed with my younger brothers that can't protect themselves, but I was not going to stay in the safety of Winterfell, while my brother fought in a war for this family and wait for the letter that said he died in battle.. I couldn't." Greywind, lowly, whimpered as he licked the hand caressing his soft fur.

"I swore that I would protect this family.. no matter the cost.. and I will, so if you think anyone can send me back to Winterfell, you're wrong, mom."

Lady Catelyn releases a breath, reaching her arm across the table to hold her son's hand, whose arm rested on the wooden table, as well, "I understand, my beautiful boy, I do.. as a mother, I want nothing more than to send you and Robb back home and let one of these Lords lead this army and fight to free your father and sisters... but I know I can't do that, to you or Robb. I just don't want anything to happen to either of you." Rikson holds his mother's hand in his, reassuringly stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, "I won't let anything happen to Robb, mom.. you know I won't, and neither will the wolves."

"But what about you, my beautiful boy, who will protect you if you're protecting Robb?"

Rikson scoffed with an arrogance of thick confidence in his Northern eyes, that resembled the sky of the North, "I don't need anyone to protect me, mom, I'm the Controller of Beasts, the Maker of Widows, and the Midnight Wolf.. but even if I do, the wolves wouldn't let anything happen to me." Greywind and Alysanne both yipped in agreement, and his mother, softly, chuckled at her son's arrogance, though she would never doubt his skills in swordsmanship, she had seen him duel with his brother, the Greyjoy boy, and the bastard numerous times in the training yard in Winterfell and more than half the time he always bested them.

But a mother will always worry for her children.. and Lady Stark worried for her sons marching to war, her youngest sons, alone, in the walls of their home, and her beautiful daughters all alone in the South, one daughter she didn't even know the location of.. no one did.

"I have no doubt you can protect yourself, my beautiful boy, but it only takes one madman with a sword in your blind-spot while your distracted
with another in battle..."

Rikson straightens his posture as he inhaled a heavy breath, knowing his mother spoke truth, but his ice forged in the unforgiving breath of winter did not allow him to fear death, "Well, then may the Old Gods have mercy on my enemies.. 'cause I won't."

The sound of footsteps outside of the secondborn's tent had both mother, son and direwolves turning their heads towards the entrance flap of the tent, where Robb Stark walked through.

"Mother, Riks.. I came to gather you for a meeting between the Lords, they want to decide whether
we march against the Kingslayer or Tywin."

Mother and brother nodded their heads of auburn Tully hair and wavy Stark brunette as they stood from the table, before following Robb out of the tent and through the grounds of the Northern camp.

ꕥ 𓅓☽𓅓 ꕥ

Torches were spread across the Northern camp, the flames dancing with the breeze, as the sun sank beneath the lands of Westeros, the last of it's rays casted upon the tall hills of the lands. Inside one of the larger of the tents, around eight Northerners were stood around a wooden table with a map of Westeros upon it, the pawns of Wolf and Lion placed where they had been earlier in the day.

Towards the entrance flap of the tent, Lord Umber stood beside Lord Glover and Karstark, whom sat on the benches beside the table, whilst across from him, Lady Catelyn sat beside Ser Rodrik, whom stood beside Robb and Rikson Stark and Theon Greyjoy, all three standing beside the other with Rikson in between them.   

It was Ser Rodrik's voice that filled the tent, "The scouts have reported that Lord Tywin moves north.. we need to get him on broken ground, and put his knights at a disadvantage." Lord Umber, instantly, retaliated as he spoke in a harsh tone of voice, though he meant no harm to his friend of countless years, "No, we need to get around him, and break the Kingslayer's siege of Riverrun.. we do that, and the River Lords will join us." The arrogant Lord finished with a smirk as he looked the eldest of the Starks in the eyes, whom stood beside his brother with his arms crossed and a thoughtful expression on his handsome features, before he responded, "To do either we need to cross the river.. and the only crossing is at the Twins."

"Lord Frey controls that bridge," the Greyjoy
boy spoke, leaning forward to look at Lady
Stark, "Your father's bannerman."

""The Late Lord Frey" my father calls him. At the Trident, he didn't appear until the battle was done.. some men take their oaths more seriously
than others."

A silence of thought passed over the Northerners, all unaware of the struggle of a scout being dragged across the Northerners camp, before Theon broke the silence, "Robb is right, we need that bridge." Lord Umber nodded, straightening his back as he leaned against the table with his arms, "What's it going to be?.. Do we move against Jamie or Tywin?"

The sudden footsteps walking into the tent surprised the Lords and Lady as two Stark guards dragged in a man dressed in rags with dirt staining his clothes and skin, and Lord Umber turned to the men behind him as one of the guards spoke, 

"We beg pardon, M'Lords.. but, we've
captured a Lannister scout."

Surprise swept across all of the Northerners expressions, and the Greyjoy boy hurried to flip the map on the table to hide their plans from the scout, whom glanced at the Lords with fear in his eyes, beginning to shake when his gaze met that of the glaring Midnight Wolf's. Lord Umber, noticing the action of the young Greyjoy, laughed as he spoke, "Don't worry, lad.. he won't be leaving this tent with his head." The scout's tremble of fear was noticeable to everyone in the tent, some smirking at his fear whilst one frowned at it.

"Where did you find him?" Robb spoke.

"In the brush above the encampment, M'Lord..
and he looked to be counting."

Sharing a glance with his younger brother, whom subtly nodded his head of wavy hair, the Stark boys walked towards the Lannister scout, whom began to quiver even more now that the glaring Wolves stood before him.

"How high did you get?" Robb spoke, with Rikson standing beside him, like the wolf's shadow in the midnight hours. "Twenty-Thousand.. m-maybe more." The scout's voice shook as he spoke. The Northerners hid their surprise behind void expressions, knowing they only had eighteen-thousand men, but they didn't need the scout knowing that, if anything, they could use this to their advantage, and that's what the Wolves intended to do, before Ser Rodrik spoke up from where he stood beside Lady Stark,

"You boys don't have to do this yourselves..
your father would understand.."

"Our father understands mercy... when there is room for it." Rikson interrupted as he turned to look towards the knight that had taught him everything he knew about archery, and Robb followed, "And he understands honor," Ser Rodrik nodded his head with a small smile of pride, "... and courage. Let him go."

Sharp exhales of surprised breaths were released from the Northerners as Lady Stark stood from the bench she sat in, "Robb, Rikson." Her boys turned to her with the Wolves in their eyes, silently telling her to trust them, and she did as she lowered her gaze onto the table.

Rikson, then, turned towards the Lannister scout with an unforgivable Wolf forged in ice inside of his eyes, walking towards the scout and leaning close to his ear, smirking as the man shivered in fear of the Midnight Wolf, whom spoke with a low, threatening voice, "Tell Lord Tywin that Winter is Coming for him.. twenty thousand Northerners are marching South to see if he really does shit gold." Leaning away from the scout, the Wolf looked the man in the eyes, whom refused to meet his as his voice trembled in fear, "Yes, M'Lord, a-and thank you, M'Lord."

The eldest of the Stark brothers then gestured for the Stark guards to escort the scout out of the camp, whom did so with haste.

Lord Umber, his shoulders heaving as he seethed with rage, walked towards the eldest of the Starks, leaning close to inspire fear within him, "Are you touched, boy!? Letting him go!?" Robb Stark did not flinch, he didn't even blink, as he spoke low, staring the Lord in the eyes with the Wolf in his, "You call me boy again." Lord Umber took a daring step forward, still trying to frighten the Wolf, to no avail as the Wolf challenged, "Go on." The arrogant Lord Umber, swiftly, walked out of the tent with a low growl, defeated by the Wolf's stare.

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~ Author's Note ~

Another chapter, finally!! And we're so close
to the end of season 1 *i cri ༎ຶٹ༎ຶ* and I had a
funny thought and wanted to know what
u lovely readers thought of it:

What would u think if Rikson ( maybe
Robb too ) rode the direwolves to battle like the
books *i think* and rumors say they do?? 

I don't know I just thought it was a funny idea,
and was curious on your thoughts!! And can we
talk about how ADORABLE Rikson and the
wolves are!! OMG I love them ◕◡◕