Chapter 53

The morning sun broke through the dense canopy of Gods Eye as I opened my eyes, letting out a low breath that rustled the ferns. The adrenaline from the assault on Harrenhal was completely gone, leaving behind a heavy, aching exhaustion. The graze along my ribs from the scorpion bolt still stung.

It was time to see exactly what Harrenhal's night assault had earned me.

I focused my mind, pulling up the pale blue interface of the System. The notifications cascaded instantly.

[Combat Report: Siege of Harrenhal]

[Targets Eliminated: Ser Amory Lorch (Commander), Kevan Lannister (Lord), 400+ Vanguard Infantry, 6 Siege Engines.]

[Massive XP Awarded.]

[Level Up!]

[Level Up!]

[New Skill Unlocked: Morning Sun]

Description: The user absorbs ambient sunlight to rapidly restore HP and mend physical injury. Effectiveness increases depending on the intensity of the sun.

I blinked at the glowing text. A healing skill. The System was really preparing me for the future.

I pushed myself up into a seated position, wincing slightly as the torn muscle stretched, and looked up at the patches of clear blue sky visible through the leaves. I triggered [Morning Sun].

The effect was deeply soothing. The golden rays of sunlight filtering through the trees seemed to physically bend toward me, pooling onto my coat. A warm, glowing aura enveloped my frame. I felt the jagged, bleeding tear along my ribs stop stinging. The damaged flesh knit itself together, the scab flaking away into ash, leaving behind fresh, unblemished skin that quickly vanished beneath a new layer of fur.

The pain evaporated. My stamina reserves refilled, replacing the heavy exhaustion with fresh energy.

I stood up, shaking out my mane, my heavy claws digging into the soft earth. The Riverlands were behind me. It was time to return to my pack.

By midday, I had left the winding trails of the woods and found Kingsroad.

I decided not to use [Extreme Speed], as a steady, loping run from a beast my size was enough to cover ground at a terrifying pace. The muddy tracks of Robb's two hundred lances and the deep ruts of the Stark wheelhouse were stamped clearly into the dirt, leading straight North.

The road mostly empty, cleared by the rumors of war. But not entirely.

Somewhere near the northern borders of the Riverlands, an exhausted hedge knight was plodding along the road. He looked to be half-asleep in the saddle, his rusted chainmail clinking dully, his tired, swaybacked horse moving at a miserable crawl. The poor man was nodding off, a half-eaten apple loosely held in one hand, completely unaware of the beast rapidly closing the distance behind him.

I shifted slightly to the left to give him room, keeping my pace.

I blew past him as a silent blur.

But the sudden, violent gust of wind ripped the apple from his hand, blew his tattered cloak directly over his face, and sent his horse spinning in a panicked circle.

"Fuck!" the knight shrieked, blindly flailing his arms as he tumbled backward out of the saddle and splashed heavily into a roadside puddle.

By the time he managed to pull his cloak off his face and draw his rusted sword, staring wildly up and down the empty road, I was already a mile away, nothing but a cloud of settling dust on the horizon.

...

The air grew noticeably colder as the sun dipped below the horizon. The landscape shifted, the rolling fields giving way to the gloomy, dense bogs of the Neck.

Ahead, the flickering orange glow of campfires dotted the dark.

Robb's vanguard had set up camp for the night. Men were posted at the perimeter, their spears resting lazily in the cold air, completely unaware of the shadows shifting in the trees just beyond their torchlight.

I stepped onto the damp moss, letting the wind carry the smell of me straight into the camp.

Before the human guards even noticed the change in the wind, the direwolves reacted.

Near the center of the camp, where the royal wheelhouse was parked, Grey Wind stood up. His ears perked sharply forward, his golden eyes locking onto the dark treeline. A second later, Nymeria scrambled to her paws, letting out an excited, high-pitched whine, pulling hard against her tether. Even Lady, usually the quietest of the pack, let out a joyful, yipping bark, her tail wagging furiously.

The sudden, frantic commotion from the massive wolves alerted the camp.

"To arms!" a guard shouted, his voice cracking with tension. "Movement in the trees!"

Steel rasped against leather as a dozen men drew their swords, forming a hasty barricade between the treeline and the wheelhouse.

The flap of the command tent was thrown open. Robb Stark emerged, his face looking tired, his hand resting tightly on the pommel of his sword. Catelyn appeared behind him, clutching a heavy fur cloak around her shoulders, her eyes wide with fear that the Lannisters had somehow caught them.

"What is it?" Robb demanded, stepping past the guards, peering into the pitch-black woods. "Outriders? Bandits?"

Grey Wind the massive direwolf let out a happy huff and strained forward, trying to pull his stake out of the mud to run toward the darkness.

"Hold your fire," Robb ordered, his brow furrowing as he noticed his wolf's behavior.

I stepped out from the shadows of the Neck and into the flickering light of their campfires.

The flames caught the thick, cream-colored fur of my mane, reflecting off my glowing amber eyes. I stood at my full six-foot height looking down at the circle of stunned Northern guards.

Robb's hand slowly slipped off the pommel of his sword. His jaw parted in disbelief. He had left me in Riverrun. He thought his father had kept me to fight the war in the South.

"Red?" Robb breathed.

I let out a low, warm rumble from my chest and walked casually past the frozen men. Grey Wind and Nymeria softly tackled me, burying their snouts into my fur, welcoming the alpha back to the pack.

I looked over the wolves heads, locking eyes with Catelyn and Robb. The surprise in their eyes visible. The War in the South was behind me. Hopefully I am exactly where I am needed.

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