The Game of Cyvasse

Snow and Sand

Direwolf

She vomited, a slimy white fluid spilled over the grass, along with bits of her breakfast, salty goat cheese with a slice of olive bread. The acrid smell of death was in her nostrils and mingled with the bitter taste that the vomit left in her mouth. Robb lives this life od death and injury.

"Lady Sansa", Ser Barristan Selmy regarded her with a look of sorrowful eyes. "Maybe it is best to take you back to your pavilion. The air by the river is fresher, every next step will be harder for the eyes and mind, for a restful sleep it is best to shut your eyes. Men cannot unsee field of death".

"No, Ser Barristan", she gave the knight a gentle look, "I have a duty to my father's bannermen". Robb's bannermen, she remembered that her father was no longer of this world, as soon Medger Cerwyn would not be. Jovial and mild, Lord Cerwyn visited Winterfell more than any other northern lord, for his castle was so near. His son Cley was older than her, but younger than Robb, like all the lordlings who were guested in Winterfell, Cley played at manhood and chivalry before her, trying to win her hand in marriage. Annoyed by his vanity, Sansa would spurn his advances, for, after all, her destiny was to wed the son of a great southern lord or even a prince, to give him sturdy sons who would grow into knights. Old dreams sent shivers through her body. If she were back in Winterfell, maybe she would let Cley take her hand, or one of the Karstark sons or even Smalljon Umber. The world would be simpler. She could live out her dreams of life at the southern court in White Harbor, where the Manderlys kept the faith and customs of the south. Better a plump husband than a cruel one.

As they crested the hill, the stench gave way to raw horror, a vast canvas of death and despair. The warriors who had fought with pride and honor now lay still, their corpses scattered across the hill. The air was thick with the foul pungent smell of sweat, blood, and rot, blending with the anguished cries of the wounded and the incessant cawing of crows gorging on the fallen. On the carpet of corpses, three small hills filled with crows dominated. The remains of three elephants, whose meat and tusks were taken by their former masters. The crows were now feasting on the meat and bones remains.

Only a few paces from her mount lay a Lannister soldier, his face ashen and blue, his gaze frozen in the moment of death, with mouth agape and eyes wide, gazing at nothing. He could not have been much older than her. He looked so vacant, like an empty husk, Sansa tried to find a man in his eyes, but there was nothing there. Though the boy had white teeth, she noticed. Thousands more lay inert like this Lion. Some in gold, most in red. War was not a weave of beauty and valor, she once believed, but a harsh, merciless furnace where lives were broken and dreams lay in ashes. She knew that now, mendacious world, false galore at courts, false glory on the field of battle.

Shrieks echoed from the small hill, where a makeshift hospital for injured Lannisters was erected near the ruined sept. Battle lost was as savage as battle won. A crow flew past Sansa and landed on the body of a Golden Company soldier and began to peck furiously through the gap of his helm, ripping off a long strip of flesh. Sansa wanted to puke again, but her belly was empty and she only felt a pain in her stomach that was clenching.

Down the hill, the field was more bustling, as thousands of living plundered the earthly spoils of thousands of dead. Crabb men were belted with Lannister swords, clad in Lannister chainmail and armor, with Lannister shields strapped to their backs. Uninterested in armor, some men carried several pairs of boots tied to their chests, three or four pairs.
One bearded man was carving the cheek of a Lannister and Sansa turned her head and shut her eyes, wishing it would all disappear.

"What is he doing?", she asked in a tense voice.

"He is pulling teeth. Some have gold teeth, but even healthy teeth are precious, they sell well, teeth are costly or they save them for old age. Better to replace lost teeth with real ones, than with wooden ones", the knight answered.