Between Fangs and Thorns

Chapter 4

Maryanne's thighs ached terribly. She had been sitting on horseback all day. Her back hurt, she was starting to feel faint, and the slow swinging of the horse made it all worse.
    It had taken her, her brother, and their companions three months to reach the Barrowlands. In the distance, the promise of Winterfell's high walls and a proper bed.
The journey had been a living hell. They had met storms, mud, and brigands that almost took their food and resources. Maeryanne always had the most troubled horses and no matter what they did it seemed like none of the animals wanted her on their back. Whenever they stopped to gather more provisions and materials that might've been useful for their journey, Maeryanne just wanted to stop there and collapse on the floor, leaving her body to decompose on the ground and be a part of nature, or turn back towards Highgarden, forgetting about the North and the Starks and reaching home swiftly with her horse.
    Lyonel, on the other hand, was deeply worried about her. As it was her first proper journey, he told her wasn't sure she would've been able to reach the end without injuries or without breaking down because of all the stress their travel up North was bringing her.
He wasn't wrong, Maeryanne spent many days crying alone in her bed, when there was a bed, or on her bedding on the floor. She wept thinking about the flourishing gardens she used to roam, her room completely immersed in the scent of roses, and how she used to play with her siblings when they were kids. Maeryanne always looked back at where they came from and hoped to head home. With her mind, she turned into a bird and she flew freely all the way back, tears came out more frequently whenever in her mind she saw the white walls of Highgarden.
    She missed her home. All that travelling was draining her, and as much as she was curious about the sights and landscapes changing in front of her eyes, it wasn't enough to make the journey a pleasant and exciting one.
    In a day, they would reach Winterfell. The thought of the Northern castle brought comfort to her, the thought of a warm meal and a comfortable bedroom all for herself almost lifted a weight off her shoulder. She was tired of riding all day and temperatures dropped significantly the more they pushed North. She shivered and shook most of the time. They had left with thicker clothes and coats, but it wasn't enough for her to feel warm. Her hands trembled in her thick gloves while holding her horse's reins. She had spent most of her life basking in the sun and enjoying the prospects of a never-ending summer. The cold winds and the remaining piles of snow brought her back to the last winter. She shivered even more.
Maeryanne's head started to spin. It hadn't been as intense a couple of hours before, but now everything was swinging like her head had been underwater. She held her horse's reins and came to a halt, took deep breaths and hoped to get back in line as soon as possible while her companions kept walking next to her horse. She didn't want Lyonel to worry even more about her, she was just tired, it was nothing serious.
As quickly as her brother came to her mind, Lyonel had trotted back to her from the head of the line.
"Maryanne, are you okay?"
Maeryanne tried to lift her head to look at him in the eyes, but even if she tried with all her efforts the mere movements of her head made her nauseous as everything around her spun quickly.
"Let's stop for today! We'll walk again in the morning. We reach the woods and then we make camp, I'm tired of brigands and weirdos."
At Lyonel's words, they all turned towards the Wolfswood. Even while she was sick, Maeryanne could perceive them whispering to each other. No one was fond of those woods, the trees looked dark and evil, and many had only heard rumours about the woods and the dangers that lay within. However, they were all tired.
When they reached the Wolfswood and entered it, the smell of pines, rotting leaves and the sensation of something alive hit all of them. Maeryanne wanted to be able to lift her head and admire that magical forest. There was something she couldn't quite place that made her full of desire, she wanted to hop down her horse and start running, she wanted to dive into the earth and become a part of it, hugging the roots of those trees and rest among them for as much as she could. There was something magical and offputting about the Wolfswood, but she felt strangely at ease among the old trees.
Her horse came to a halt, next to it was Lyonel, holding his arms out so that he could grab his sister and bring her down to rest. She pushed herself off the horse as cautiously as she could, and when Lyonel's arms wrapped around her she could breathe again.
"You need to eat, Annie," he said.
Maeryanne's lips turned upwards in a small smile. It had been so long since he called her that, he always used to whenever they played together as kids. One of her lips started to tremble.
     Lyonel put her down next to a tree so that she could rest her back on it. She thanked him, her voice barely a whisper as her skin felt both boiling and icy cold. Maeryanne brought a hand to her forehead, trying to measure her temperature. She feared she had a fever.
     "Stay here, okay? We'll make camp and we'll cook something soon." Lyonel reached for the waterskin he had on his hip and offered it to his sister. "Drink some water and close your eyes." He kneeled next to her for an instant and left a single kiss on her forehead before walking away to help the others.
     Maeryanne had never been that weak. She raised the waterskin to her lips and found them waiting for some kind of liquid. She drank as much as she could until her head started to spin again. She lowered the waterskin and took deep breaths.
     As she closed her eyes, she turned into a bird once again. This time she didn't fly back to Highgarden. She flew high, hovering over the Wolfswoof. There was still snow trapped among the leaves, other birds flew next to her, underneath her the vastity of the North unfolded before her eyes. What a sight it was. She could glimpse the skyline of Winterfell. Its huge walls and the sloping roofs of the towers. From one of the gates, a group of people mounted on horses moved towards the Wolfswood. She didn't know who they were but they piqued her curiosity, so she followed them.
     Maeryanne flapped her wings vigorously against the wild winds coming from the North. She dived down with ease and closed her distance from the group of men. She could see now that they were all men, all wrapped in furs and with their weapons on their backs or their hips. Many had thick beards, dark colours on all of them. At the head of the group, was a young man. A child one might say. She was even more interested.
Flying ahead of them, she hopped onto a low branch at the edge of the woods waiting patiently to inspect the group of Northeners. Notes and verses reached her ears, some were singing during the march, possibly the ones at the back of the group. They sang of things ladies should not hear and of battles fought among bedsheets. Others laughed at the songs.
"What about you little lord? Do you have any encounters you'd like to share with us?" one of the men more to the front asked, a few whistles raised in the air.
"Nothing that concerns you, Vandyr," the young man at the front answered. Maeryanne was now able to see his face. He had the characteristic traits of a true Northerner, a long face, dark hair, and stern eyes. His hair was well-trimmed and there were braids among it with little charms as decorations. A thick fur covered his large shoulders and he was sitting straight and tall on his horse. Maeryanne had to admit, he was a handsome boy. She could feel her cheeks getting warm even under all her feathers.
"You Starks are no fun! Who did you fuck? I know many whores in the town right outside Winterfell, maybe I should ask them personally." Laughter came from the men, all of them looked older than the Stark boy.
"Perhaps you should be more concerned about your duties rather than the whores in the closest brothel. Don't you think Vandyr? My father is still the lord of Winterfell, you should not mess up with me," the Stark boy turned his head towards the man as the older one turned a different shade of pink.
"He was just joking, my lord. Please, forgive a man for the excitement of a filthy tune," another man trotted closer to the Stark boy, probably the oldest among them.
"I am neither mad nor I will say I won't forgive him. Nonetheless, I still demand respect from my men. I don't care if you love women, men, whores or whatever; I ask for efficiency and respect from you, nothing more than that." The Stark boy didn't look back at them this time, his chin taller as he pushed towards the woods.
It was time to head back. Maeryanne's head felt lighter after what she saw, what she imagined. She flapped her wings once again and flew towards her camp, a moment later she opened her eyes and she was back in her body. What a strange dream.
The camp was almost settled. Many were gathering sticks and logs for that night's fires, Lyonel was nowhere in sight.
Maeryanne felt strangely better after her nap. She felt stronger than before and her head didn't spin anymore. She pushed herself up and, after cleaning her clothes, she started walking around. They were all busy with work so no one paid attention to her.
She turned her head towards the direction she came from while she was sleeping. It had been such an intense and strangely real dream she wasn't sure it had been just a dream. Maeryanne felt the pull, something was calling her towards that direction, her body felt like a magnet and somewhere past all those trees there was the other end.
Looking around once again and making sure no one was paying attention to her actions, she then decided to wander farther into the woods.
With her hands, she held the hem of her dress just above the surface so that neither her feet nor any other root or branch got tangled into the fabric of the dress. Leaves cracked under her shoes, in the distance crows screeched and cawed. Everything was turning darker and darker as the sun was almost dipping behind the horizon. Maeryanne closed her furs tightly around her body, a blow of wind hit her face and mussed her hair, she could feel her nose turning colder.
     Many minutes later, she was deep into the forest. She couldn't see the camp anymore, all around were trees and leaves and birds and animals. She thought she would've been terrified of being all alone, but it wasn't that way. It was as if she belonged in the woods as much as she belonged in the gardens of Highgarden. It was a strange sensation, but not an unwelcome one.
     Following her sense and intuition, she walked towards the other end of the Wolfswood, where in her dream she saw the group of men. But there was something else there, not only Maeryanne.
     She closed her hands tightly on her dress, she looked around, trying to glimpse at something odd. Dry branches were cracking, leaves were rustling, a growl echoed through the trees.
     That's when she saw it. Far from Maeryanne, a lake of moss and mud across from them, was a wolf. The beast stood there, its fangs showing, white daggers in all that fur, and its steps slow and precise. Its fur was a deep grey colour and its eyes were as yellow as the coins inside Highgarden's treasury.
     She didn't know what to do, she was frozen in her place. Her mouth was locked and her heart slammed inside her chest. Maeryanne knew she was probably going to die.
     With a swift jump, the wolf launched against her. Maeryanne recomposed herself and began running. She ran and ran, not looking behind her as she could hear the creature closing the distance, its fangs snapping.
     Low branches scratched her face, she tried to protect herself with her arms but to no avail. The wolf growled again trying to snap to one of her legs. She moved from its jaws in a lucky attempt to jump over a high root. Maeryanne kept sprinting towards the edge of the woods, her breath ragged, her throat burned, her legs still ached from the day on horseback, and her head started to abandon her once again.
     The animal was too fast. It swiftly reached her and tried to push her to the ground. Maeryanne took a sharp curve, trying to distract the beast long enough to ask for help. But how could anyone help her? She ventured too much into the forest, she was too far from the camp and not a single soul was in sight. She was even more sure that she was going to die.
     She looked back, a moment of naiveness on her part, and she saw the lean and stretched shape of the wolf pushing her down, its strong paws on her back. Maeryanne in a desperate attempt, tried to push herself up but the beast smacked her down once again.
     Her nails dug into the dirt, she kicked with her legs and tried to scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Maeryanne turned toward the beast, her back now on the ground, with a thick branch she found on the ground she tried to keep the wolf's mouth away from her neck. The stench of its breath hit her nostrils and made her gag, drool dropped on her face as its mouth was inches from it. The animal's nails dug into her dress, she could feel them pressing against her skin, possibly ripping it.
     Suddenly, a whine escaped the wolf's mouth. It moved away from her for a moment, its head raised towards a distant place from her before it whined again. Maeryanne managed to escape from the beast, she ran to nowhere in particular and she saw another figure, human this time.
     A man, no a young man, held a bow in his hands. She couldn't see him properly, her eyes were veiled with a layer of tears. He reached out to his hip and took another arrow nocking it to his bow. He hit the wolf a third time, the other two sticking out of his body, drops of blood covering its deep fur. The wolf, in the end, dropped dead to the ground.
     Maeryanne leaned over a tree, her knees buckled to the ground as they couldn't hold her up anymore, her face was wet with tears and her body trembled like a leaf. After all of that, she could finally scream.
     A hand rested on her shoulder, she screamed more and she crawled away terrified. Hands grabbed her again and shook her.
     "It's okay! The wolf is dead, I'm here with you. No one will hurt you I promise." A masculine voice said.
     Maeryanne cleaned her eyes from tears and blinked several times, trying to focus her sight on the young man in front of her. When she could see clearly, her eyes widened. It couldn't be possible.
     "Are you hurt? We can bring you to Winterfell, give you something to eat if you need it," the young man said as he tucked a lock of her hair away from her face.
     Maeryanne shook her head meekly. She was not hurt, nothing serious at least. She opened her mouth but the words didn't come out, she had so many questions and she was so confused. In front of her was the same young man she had seen in her dream, his dark hair, his long face, his stern grey eyes, his little braids in his hair. This close, she could certainly affirm that he was a handsome boy.
     The Stark boy looked back at the wolf lying on the ground a few meters from them, then she looked back at her. He observed her, all of her, and his brows furrowed.
     "May I ask your name?" he asked kindly.
     This time, she was able to speak.
     "Maeryanne Tyrell," she answered in a whisper.