Carliene Stark

II Chapter 89

Carliene

Once again Bran had been right. Flying was very different from falling. It was liberating in a way I had nearly forgotten since the last time I tried it. Suddenly the world was open, nothing but empty space in all directions that wanted to be explored and claimed. Although I had imagined a raven, I found myself quite pleased with the owl I changed into. The night had progressed and yet I could see it as clearly as it were day, making out the smallest details in the snow below, while gliding miles above it through the thin whips of clouds.

Twice I spotted a rodent in the field, diving toward sit as my instincts took over. Or those of the owl. I was too slow the first time, watching the black mouse disappear into her hole after escaping my talons. The second time was a success. The small creature gave a high squeak as I picked dit up and flew away with it. On a brach, high up in an old oak tree I enjoyed my meal, ripping into the small creature with my beak, devouring it fur, bones and all. I never could have imagined that a mouse could taste this good. I wanted to catch another, but I also knew that I was here for a purpose.

What did Bran say?

Careful not to lose yourself.

I wasn't certain if this was part of what he meant, but I was beginning to understand how one could get so easily distracted by the simple thoughts and instincts these creatures had.

So I forced myself to concentrate, beating my large wings and travelling further east to find the Kingsroad. Even though I could see so well with the owl's eyes it all looked so different from up in the air. So small, so insignificant. It was beautiful, there was no doubt in that. But I realised that it was all so much larger than we were able to comprehend and that in the end, no matter how large a castle men build, they would all look puny if you are high enough in the air. 

Maybe this is why the Targaryens knew they could conquer it all with their dragons, because the world looks so small from the backs of a dragon.

The Lannisters were easy enough to spot, their camp being brightly light, illuminating their crimson tents. Just as Ser Jorah said: the camp did look rather small. I had no experience of estimating military numbers, especially from this view, but I thought that a thousand men was probably accurate.

I circled high above them, half expecting to be able to spot another host somewhere in the distance. Some secret army that would try and take us by surprise so that Cersei could triumph after all. But there was nothing as far as my sharp eyes could see.

I did not even have to get closer to be bale to hear and see what was going on below me. I could watch the soldiers complain, drink and sing all from a height where they would never know of my presence.

Why have I never thought of this before?

I spotted the Kingslayer easily enough. To my unpleasant surprise it was none other than Daven Lannister who walked with him as they shared in an agitated conversation. I soared around, listening in on their conversation. Hoping that maybe they would be clumsy enough to spill some of their plans and give me an indication of what their intentions truly were.

They hurriedly walked along a wide path between the tents, Daven slightly struggling to keep up. Suddenly the Kingslayer stopped and grabbed his cousin by the arm. "Why are you helping?" he barked at the man, clearly frustrated and somehow sounding suspicious.

Even from this height I could see the ugly grin that the man shortly gave. "Maybe you are my favourite cousin" he pointed out.

The Kingslayer released him, roughly shoving him away. "Bullshit"

Daven quickly straightened. "Is it?" he challenged more serious. "Your sister signed me off as soon as I was captured by the enemy. Why should take her side now?"