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With every day it got colder in the North. The winter, for sure, was coming.
She remembered the forest as a child. It was a true wonder during the summer. It was full of life – some lovely, small flowers blooming, the forest leaves chattering with every breeze, rabbits hiding in the bright green bushes that were covered with forest berries, some other bigger animals' footprints left in the mud puddles. The energizing and powerful smell of Wolfswood, the freedom.
But now it had changed – the forest was dead. The wind was biting through the now bare oaks, ironwoods, firs, sentinels etc, showing the true ruthless, rough side of the once lustful Wolfswood, where the grass was greener and the life better.
Or at least it seemed that way. The war had damaged every living soul in Westeros and even further. The forest, as most had heard, was full of dangerous thieves, wildlings, deserters from the Night's Watch and so on.
But it didn't matter if the girl would stumble up to any of them. She was soon to be dead anyways. She could barely feel her frozen, almost lifeless feet moving across the icy surface, some old, pointed, dark and colorless leaves crunching and shattering beneath her faded, almost falling apart boots. And she reeked of death since her entire cloak was covered in once bright red, warm blood. In her own blood.
She had no strength to drag herself further North. Those were possibly the last hours, even minutes or seconds she spent, fighting for her life. But maybe there was no use to do that...? She had nothing left in all of the Westeros. The only important thing she did have was her life – and it was shattering into pieces.
She shivered from the cold that her clothing wasn't able to protect her from. One of her hands laid on her abdomen, while the other reached to a tree to give her some balance. Her breath was heavy, inhalations long and painful.
She was so tired that she had to stop and lay back by a tree. She was broken and tired. The thing that pained her the most, except the bleeding hole in her stomach, was the fact, that she had made it that far and wasn't able to reach her destination. It was so close, she could feel it. Her guts were telling her to fight trough the path and continue, even if it would mean that she would die anyways and it would feel like going trough Hell and being tortured by the devil himself. But her brain told her to hold back and sit down, slowly bleed or freeze to death – the easiest way out.
The end of her was near. It felt like the trees all around knew it, the wind lightly whispered it into her ears, but the icy surface reflected her last moments alive and showed her flashbacks of the happy years in life.
