CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

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THE DIVIDED PACK
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THE DIVIDED PACK✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

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300 AC, Long Lake, North

Bash splashed some water in his face and rubbed it in before running a hand through his hair. After blinking a few times he felt more awake than he had in days and if there was something he needed to be at the moment it was awake.

After taking back Winterfell Bash had stayed for a while to build up the castle like Robb had ordered him. But now, when he was certain that Winterfell's defences were strong enough he had left Ser Rodrik in charge while he searched for his sisters and cousins.

He wanted to start immediately but he was needed in Winterfell so they had sent out some Stark men to search for them; but to no avail. So Bash had left to find them on his own. No guards, no dogs, just him. It wasn't that he didn't trust his men, he just knew that they would slow him down.

Bash knew they were heading for the Wall but he doubted that they would take the Kingsroad. He had been told they were travelling with a wildling and Hodor. The wildling woman would know how to survive in the woods and Hodor would be able to carry Bran.

They wouldn't move fast and would probably keep hidden in the woods. Unfortunately, the North was the largest kingdom and it was mostly covered by woods so it wasn't an easy task to find them.

Bash walked back over to his horse but just when he was about to mount he heard a scream. Or at least it sounded like a scream that echoed through the woods. He didn't know what would be able to produce such a agonising scream but it made him curious and on high alert.

He unsheathed his sword and started to walk towards the sound. Years of hunting had made him light on the feet and this was exactly why he was glad that he was alone. Very few men were light on their feet and the last thing he needed was somebody marching through the woods with him, alerting every being of their presence.

He had to walk for a few minutes before the screams were so loud that it almost felt like the person stood next to him. His steps became even lighter and he made sure to hide behind trees.

He neared a clearing and the sounds of agony were now mixed with voices. He crouched down and carefully made his way over to a bush were he'd be able to hide from sight. The first thing he noticed were the familiar sigil on the shields that laid on the ground; the red flayed man of House Bolton.

But that soon became uninteresting when he realised what the men were standing around. On a cross a man was strapped by his wrists and ankles. Blood was seeping out of several smaller wounds all over his body. But the worst thing was that the skin on his lower arm had been flayed off.

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