Bringing the Dawn

LXIX.

Brynden Tully

The Riverlands, 301 AC

How many days had passed since the ambush had occurred was unknown to him. Nearing a week at least. He'd made his escape in the thick of it when no one was looking with the intention on riding for Riverrun directly to rally some men to his side to go after the group. Trying his best to remember the many banners that had been shown but he found they had been burned into his brain.

Marbrand of Ashemark, Brax of Hornvale, Lydden of Deep Den, Lefford of the Golden Tooth, Lannister of Casterly Rock and Lannister of Lannisport, Crakehall of Crakehall, Swyft of Cornfield, and Westerling of the Crag just to name a few. If it were one or two then it could just be put down to a few brigands but that many? No, it was clear to the Blackfish what had happened and his blood had ran hot at the realisation. The timing of it was too sudden, too convenient. Either they had a spy in their midst or someone had betrayed them.

But which of the two?

He'd waited until the end of the fight and had watched from atop a tree having lost his horse soon into the fight after a soldier had sliced through the stallions leg. It was clear when it was over who had won the fight and that angered him even more as bodies were piled atop one another and hoping that neither of them were people he cared for. Survivors strapped to horses and taken back west where they had come from. If he still had his horse he would've followed them, but he did not.

And so he waited. Until there was no visible trace of anyone before heading down to where it had happened. Having to scrunch his nose up at the putrid scent of piss, shit, blood, and death. It would not be long before flies and other beasts came to feast on the corpses. Looking at the faces of those and sighing in relief that none were his niece or great-nephew. Obviously, they were far from safe, but better alive than dead he thought to himself. Afterwards he had travelled west himself back to Riverrun but he did not remain at seeing the flag atop the walls.

A golden lion. Those fuckers had taken his home in the days they had left. Knowing then this was more than a mere coincidence. He had to get back to Kings Landing, but how would he do so? It was certainly doable on foot, but far from ideal. Not only would it take months in the midst of war, he would be exposed. No, he needed a horse or to catch a cart that was heading south. His King would need to know of the capture of Riverrun, Robb, and Catelyn. It was clear what was happening. The Lannister's were going to push east towards the two areas who refused to swear for Jaeron and then try and rope the Vale into it. If they succeeded in doing so, they would split the North from the South which would make travelling to and from almost impossible.

Now, who to go to? The most logical would be the Bracken's of Stone Hedge. Alone they bolstered a third of the Riverland's armies. Only a week or so away by foot from where he currently was. If he got there he could warn them of what had happened and prepare them for what would likely happen. If his suspicions were correct and the Lannister's were looking to create a split, they would be looked at for similar reasons. The next best would be the Vance's of Atranta. Whilst they didn't have the same numbers as the Bracken's, they still held a commendable force and would be able to give him a few men.

Brynden removed the cloak from his shoulders, knowing he could not wear such a thing openly for it would make him a larger target than before. Stuffing it under his breastplate as much as he could and arranging the portion which did not fit to look like the collar of a tunic underneath his armour. Making his mind up quickly he would head for the Bracken's and not the Vance's. The first day of walking was easy, the second not as easy but far from difficult. The third day there was a rainstorm which made the ground turn to mud which was very slippery and after fighting it for a few hours decided to stop what he was doing. Following the course of the Red Fork to his left but remaining as close as possible to the many treelines.