Winter Has Fallen (Game of Thrones)

Oat

        A fortnight after his father, Evanithen, and Anthia had returned with Raven and Winter, was Oaten Stark's eighth name day. In Oat's opinion, it was a splendid day. In the morning, he recieved a brilliant breakfast plate of chicken, eggs, and bacon, and his father had even permitted him a cup of wine. He got the day off from his chores and lessons, so he took the morning to ride out into the woods on his pony. 

        The air felt cooler than usual, but Oat didn't stop to worry about the air. Of course every once in a while the air would be cool. Why shouldn't it?

        Riding deep into the woods, Oat found himself trotting along a stream, looking at the different types of fish swimming in it. He slowed his pony to a stop and slipped off his saddle. Walking slowly to the edge of the stream, he them leapt into the air and landed with a splash in the water. 

        Normaly, Oat would be scolded if he jumped in a stream, but today was his name day. He wouldn't be getting in trouble for doing anything today. Oat waded through the waters, looking down at the plants and animals in the stream. It was a great wonder that such a small place could be home to so many things. It reminded him of godswood in the caslte; such a small place, yet the gods were all there, all waiting to answer the prayers of men.

        A loud whinny made Oat look up.

        His pony, Starkin, he had decided to name it, was looking quite alarmed. It reared back with a loud neigh spun around and galloped back the way they came.

        "Hey!" Oat called hurriedly getting out of the stream, all thoughts of the fish and plants and godswood gone. "Hey, Starkin! Starkin, where are you going?" But the pony was already out of sight, presumably going back to the castle.

        Oat wondered what had managed to frighten his pony so much that it had fled without waiting for Oat. Something bad, Oat thought. Maybe something deadly. But he could not worry about that now, for he had to start going back to the castle. Without Starkin, his journey would be three times as slow, so if he didn't hurry, he wouldn't make it back by nighttime. 

        Then he heard the growl.

        It wasn't very loud, but Oat still heard it, all right. It was there, deep in the bushes, though how deep he did not know. He knew that if he fled, he would not be able to go far. His wet furs would weigh him down and the thing didn't sound like it was going to go slowly for him. His best chance of surviving was to turn around. Slowly.

        And so he did.

        And he saw the wolf. The direwolf.

        Oat did not know what he should do. He had never been taught much about direwolves, apart from how to recongnize them from regular wolves. Nobody ever taught him what to do if one was waiting to rip your entrails out.

        Oat panicked. this was a direwolf. It was a deadly beast, a vicious killer, and it never gave up on its victims. Oat opened his mouth and gave one, loud scream.

        The direwolf growled.

        Oat looked sideways to the stream. He saw the fishes and plants and thought of the godswood and the castle and his father and mother and Evanithen and Dianik and Anthia and Trinton and the gods in the godswood and he prayed to them, the gods, Not here, not now, no, please.

        When he looked bakc at the direwolf, he realized that it wasn't as bad as he thought it was. It had golden fur and round, black eyes. But looking at those eyes, Oat realized that there wasn't viciousness or deadlyness in them. He just saw fear, and for the first time, Oat seized the direwolf's body.

        It wasn't as his wet nurse had described. It was small, almost as small as Raven and Winter's and Oat knew that it was only a pup. It was only a pup, out here, alone, with no other direwolves. That Oat could see, anyways.

        Oat could see that it was hungry. The way his pelt pressed into his meat and muscles, he didn't know if the wolf had eaten in days. Suddenly, Oat felt like a trespasser. This was probably the direwolf's territory, and Oat had invaded it. 

        He slowly dropped into his knees, never taking his eyes off the wolf. Then, he extened a hand towards the direwolf, inviting him to smell. Oat had seen dog trainers do this with dogs before at the castle. He could only pray to the gods that it would work on direwolves, too. 

        The direwolf came forward. It dropped its snarl and leaned forward to sniff Oat's hand. After it did, the wolf relaxed his muscles. He looked up at Oat with those big black eyes that made Oat feel as if he were looking into an endless abyss. 

        "That's going to your name," Oat told the direwolf, cautiously reaching out a hand to stroke the wolf's back. It fliched at first, but relaxed almost a split second later, so Oat figured that the wolf liked him. "Abyss."

        Just as a pink-and-purple dusk was turning into a deep blue stary night, Oat reached the Castle of the Starks with Abyss in his arms. He slinked through the halls of the castle, peeked in rooms, backtracked millions of times, until finally, he found his father, Stejen Stark. He was with two of his guardsmen in a small room with a flat table in the centre. A single fire was ablaze at the far end of the room.

        Stejen looked questioningly at the direwolf in Oat's arms, and Oat told him the whole thing, how he had gone for a ride and went into the stream and how Starkin had panicked and ran away and left him with the direwolf. He told him how he realized the wolf was afraid of him, and how he calmed him down, and then how he brought him back to the castle.

        "May I ask you, Oat, why you would care to bring a stray direwolf into the castle?" Stejen asked at last. "If Evanithen and Anthia can have direwolves as pets, I do not see why I may not," Oat answered. "Father, the direwolf id the symbol, of the House Stark, as you should know. It is the symbol of my family. Surely you will let me keep him?"

        Stejen sighed. "Alright, Oaten, all right. But you understand that it will be fully your responsibility to train him and make him a tame direwolf?"

        "I think I have trained him well enough. He didn't eat he, that's for one," Oat replied. "And I do not think it be possible to make a direwolf tame. I think that a direwolf is only tame to his master, and those his master wished him to be tame to."

        His father let out a small chuckle. "You're a smart one, Oat. Has you chosen a name for your wolf yet?"

        "Yes," Oat said with satisfaction. "His name is Abyss."

        Just then, a small howl sounded from outside the room, followed by the sound of Anthia's voice calling, "No, Winter, come here, come back!" 

        Stejen sighed again. "I fear that Winter is coming."

        He had no idea how correct he was.