Roslin looked down at her lap. Her fingers picked at the dried mud on her skirt. The silk was ruined, stained from the road and blood. She did not look at him. Her body still shook, even with the warm drink in her hands.
Alaric watched her in silence. His eyes stayed cold. When he saw the dirt on her cheek, he stepped closer. His boots crunched on the frozen ground, and she tensed. He wiped her face with his thumb. The touch was quick and held no comfort.
The camp grew quiet. Only the river could be heard in the distance. After a while, Alaric stood and walked to Rivy at the edge of the clearing. He said nothing to Roslin. He lay down against Rivy's thick fur and went to sleep. Soon, Livy moved close as well, her body settling near him and blocking the cold.
Roslin stayed on the cold stone, shaking in the damp night air. Her eyes stayed wide as she watched the beasts nearby. She did not look at the wolf with the glowing amber eyes as it stood and walked toward her.
The wolf made a low sound and caught her skirt in its teeth. It lifted her with ease, as if she weighed nothing. A small gasp slipped from her, but she could not move. The wolf carried her across the clearing and set her down on the thick fur beside Alaric.
The large beast then lay down close, leaving Roslin trapped between its warmth, the other wolf, and the man who ruled them. Alaric opened his eyes and looked at the girl curled near him.
"Looks like Rivy likes you," he said quietly.
Roslin nodded once. Her eyes shut tight as she tried not to think about the beasts around her. She pressed into the heavy fur, the heat easing the chill of the night.
Alaric watched her for a moment, her pale face lit by the moon. A faint smile crossed his lips. He felt a hard sense of peace. He had saved one more life from the fate...
...
Morning broke grey and wet.
Rain tapped against the windows of the Twins, light but steady. Walder Frey sat at his table, chewing dry bread.
A knock hit the door.
Hard. Fast.
"Enter," he said.
A patrol captain stepped inside. Mud caked his boots. Water slid from his cloak and pooled on the stone.
"My lord," he said. "The south road patrol has returned."
Walder paused mid-bite. "Returned from where?"
"The night route. They found Lady Roslin's carriage."
The bread lowered from his hand.
"Where?"
"Two miles south. Near the bend by the Green Fork."
Too close.
Walder set the bread aside. "Go on."
"The carriage was wrecked. One wheel torn off. The horses were dead."
"And my men?"
The captain hesitated.
Walder's eyes lifted. "Speak."
"…scattered, my lord."
"Scattered how?"
The man swallowed. "In pieces."
The rain filled the silence.
"They weren't robbed," the captain said. "Gold was still inside. Weapons too."
Walder leaned back.
"Bandits take gold," he said.
"Yes, my lord."
"Soldiers take weapons."
"Yes."
"There were marks in the mud," the captain added. "Large ones. But the rain washed most of it away."
Walder drummed one finger on the arm of his chair.
"And my daughter?"
The captain looked down. "We don't know."
Walder's jaw tightened.
"There was blood in the carriage," the man said quickly. "But not enough to say she's dead."
Walder stared at the wall.
"So she lived," he said.
"Possibly."
"Or she was taken."
The captain did not answer.
...
Grey morning light slipped through the wet trees and shone across the fast water of the Green Fork. Roslin stirred. Her body felt stiff and sore as she woke from a deep, empty sleep. For one brief moment, she forgot the night before.
Then she felt the warmth.
Roslin stirred... she felt the warmth of thick fur. Alaric was already gone from her side. She pushed herself upright and saw him across the clearing, standing near the river...
Across the clearing, Alaric stood near the river. Mist curled around him as he tossed small stones into the water, watching them sink without expression.
The wolf lifted its head.
Its amber eyes fixed on her.
Her breath caught. Her hands clenched in her lap. She waited for teeth. For movement.
None came.
The wolf did not advance. It did not bare its fangs. It only watched her, still and close enough that she could feel its breath on her skin.
Her heart pounded, but nothing happened.
Slowly, before she could stop herself, Roslin raised one hand. Her fingers shook as they touched the fur between the wolf's eyes.
It stayed still.
Then it lowered its head into her palm.
Footsteps sounded behind her.
Roslin froze.
She did not pull her hand from the wolf, but her shoulders drew tight as she felt someone close. Alaric stopped just behind her.
"Hm," he said.
Roslin swallowed. "I—I didn't mean to—"
He did not stop her.
He only watched.
Then he stepped past her and crouched beside the wolf. He placed his hand on the large head without pause, pressing behind the jaw. The animal leaned into him at once.
"Rivy," he said.
The wolf's ears flicked.
"And the other one is Livy," he added, nodding toward the darker shape near the trees.
"They're sisters. They don't take well to strangers."
He looked back at Roslin.
"You seem to be different."
Roslin's fingers curled in the thick fur. "I didn't do anything," she said. "I just touched her."
"That's often enough to cost someone a hand."
Her breath hitched.
He stood and wiped river water onto his trousers. His voice stayed calm.
"Have you ever left your father's walls?"
She paused. "Left…?"
"Beyond the Twins," he said. "Not the yard. Not the docks. The road."
She shook her head. "Once. To see my aunt. With guards. The curtains were closed."
Alaric gave a small nod, as if that settled something.
"So no."
She looked at him. "Is that bad?"
"It explains things."
He turned toward his horse. His steps made no sound on the wet ground.
"Come," he said.
He mounted in one smooth motion, then reached down. His hand closed around her wrist and pulled her up with firm strength. She landed in front of him, her back pressed to his chest. Cold still shook through her.
He reached past her for the reins, his arm steady at her waist. He leaned close, his breath brushing her ear.
"You'll need better clothes," he said. "These won't last long in the North."
He set the horse into a trot.
At the edge of the clearing, two large shapes rose and followed. Livy and Rivy slipped between the trees beside them, silent as moving shadow.
...
Back in King's Landing, within the silent stone walls of the Tower of the Hand, Sansa Stark stood before her polished silver mirror.
The room was thick with the scent of lavender and the lingering, sharp clarity of the morning frost. Beside her bed, Lady and the jet-black wolf Nyx sat on their haunches.
"Hmm... it's still flat," she whispered, her voice a melodic friction of breath. She rubbed her stomach, feeling the soft, pale skin beneath her fine silk shift. "Hopefully I am not pregnant after that dummy came inside me don't know how many times," she muttered, a feverish pink flush creeping up her neck as she remembered the torrential wave of liquid fire that had filled her to the core.
It was her own fault, she knew, for giving him a full leash and demanding every last inch he had to give.
A sharp, rhythmic clack-clack-clack echoed in the corridor, followed by a heavy, demanding knock on the door.