vōƚīʋυʂ (got)

Pɾσʅσɠυҽ

  My dreams haunt me, marking me like scorch marks. They are filled with fire, bloodshed, and loss, but they always end with a promise of something new.Though after what I can only assume was a few years of living in this frigid wasteland of endless winter, I have learned that what I was promised will not come to fruition. Still, the velvety voice of my promiser calls out to me in times of doubt. 'Soon,' it says.

   I shook my head, all those thoughts about dreams clearing from my mind. I looked around, trying to spot anything that would lead to my next meal.

   

   Nothing stood out to me, though, just the pale snow and tall, gangly trees which I saw every day. It was likely that the animals had learned to avoid the area through my years of hunting. I sighed, walking further into the forest, further from my campsite, and further out of my comfort zone. As I went, I made sure to memorize my area, not wanting to get lost.

   While mentally noting trees with uniquely bent branches or interesting marks, I heard something akin to footsteps. Making slow but wide steps, only stirring up a faint crunch of snow, I pressed myself against a wide-based tree, its bark scratching at my neck. I held a sharp knife, blade facing down, and kept it close to my chest if anything were to attack.

   "What did you hear?" a man's voice asked.

   "Sounded like footsteps," a more resounding, scratchier voice answered, followed by the light whisper of steel being pulled from its sheath.

   "Do you think it could be a willing?"

   The gruff voice huffed, "Well if it is, they might as well run off with how much you're blabbering." Then there was nothing but the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. I held my breath, tightening my hold on the knife.

   "Must have been an animal." His voice was just a bit away. It was silent for a few more seconds, and then there was the sound of footsteps walking off in the other direction.

   I finally let my breath out, the hot air forming a large cloud. Something grabbed me, pushing my face down on the ground with my arms behind my back. In the midst of my struggle, I had dropped my knife.

   "Got ya." The man chuckled, a deep harsh sound. "Thought you were being sneaky, eh?" He pulled me up and pressed his sword to my neck. "You don't look like any wildling I've seen. Where is the rest of ya, then?"

   I attempted to jerk my body from his hold, shaking my head. "It's just me, and I'm no wildling, whatever the hell that is." I seethed at him. My eyes trailed to his companion, who was untying a bundle of ropes.

   "What are we gonna do with her?" He looked a little lost, holding the ropes.

   The man rolled his eyes. "Take her back to Castle Black, see if she knows anything about the whereabouts of the wildlings."

   Then they tied me up, blindfolded me, and dragged me off.