DAGGERS TO THE HEART Part 2 - CLASH OF THE KINGS

Arya I

In the heart of the Wolfswood, the She-Wolf, along with her three litter-mates. crouched among the dense undergrowth. Her litter-mates for this hunt were - The Grey Brother, the embodiment of the changing seasons; The White Brother, the albino spectre; and The Wild Brother, the living abyss.

The dark green forest stirred with life as they navigated the silent dance of the hunt. The She-Wolf, feeling the rhythm of her own heartbeat, moved with purpose through the undergrowth. Her own eyes, pools of liquid gold, glistened with the thrill of the chase, scanning the horizon for their prey. The wolfswood, alive with the sound of rustling leaves, bore witness to the primal spectacle.

The Grey Brother, with fur reminiscent of moonlit mist, led the pack through the ancient trees. His golden eyes, remained fixed on the distant silhouette of a deer grazing in the glade. Instinctively, they knew this was their target, and the pack moved in tandem.

As they closed in, The Wild Brother provided a masterful display of stalking. His movements were silent, an approach that betrayed neither sound nor presence. Green eyes, aglow with an ethereal intensity, tracked the deer's every movement.

The White Brother joined The Wild Brother in a seamless coordination of stealth. Two apparitions in the moonlit night, stalked the prey with a predatory grace. The sheen of their fur merged with the shadows, becoming one with the enveloping darkness.

With the prey in sight, The Grey Brother took charge, orchestrating the running phase with a swift and calculated pursuit. His powerful legs propelled the pack forward, closing the gap between them and the unsuspecting deer. The rhythmic pulsing of the pack's anticipation echoed through the shared understanding of the hunt.

In the final moments, The Wild Brother, with a fluid grace, lunged at the deer. His ebony form collided with the prey in a burst of primal energy. The impact, a culmination of power and precision, brought the creature to the forest floor.

The She-Wolf, through The Wild Brother's eyes, felt the triumphant surge of adrenaline. Fangs found flesh, and the scent of the kill graced the surrounding air, mingled with the scent of pine and earth.

Despite leading the hunt, the Grey Brother was not the alpha of the pack. The White Brother held that distinction. He would get the first taste of the kill. Once he'd had his fill, it would be the turn of the She-Wolf. She waited patiently until being given permission to feast. Her maul clamped down into the stomach of the dead deer, and the taste of blood filled her mouth.

Arya gasped, her eyes fixated on the ashen stone ceiling looming above her, the lingering metallic tang of blood still present on her lips. Surveying the room, she found Jon's gaze locked onto her, and then her attention shifted to Bran and Rickon, seated in chairs by the hearth, their vacant, milky-white eyes unsettling.

"Did you awaken after tasting the blood?" Arya inquired, her voice echoing in the hushed chamber.

Jon nodded, a hint of trepidation in his eyes. "Strange, yet exhilarating, all at once."

Arya, less daunted, declared, "It was amazing," rising from the bed and swinging her legs around. "I want to do it again." Jon's furrowed brow betrayed his reluctance. "Don't you?"

Jon shook his head. "I'm doing it because Bran said it was necessary."

Perplexed, Arya pressed, "Do you think Bran is remembering? Or is he the Three-Eyed Raven? I didn't think he had a dagger."

Jon, grappling with uncertainty, replied, "I don't know. I've asked Father to send him to Queenscrown to be with Sansa. She will know what's happening to him. Father cannot help."