Frozen Stone

Peeking through the bushes, Maranda could see that the camp had been temporarily abandoned. Two horses gnawed at grass, secured to trees by their reins, and tiny streams of smoke lazily lifted from the ashes of the campfire before a tent. After checking the surrounding area one last time and not spotting any sign of movement, Maranda stepped out of the bushes and walked straight to the closest horse. At the bottom of one of the pouches fastened to the saddle she found what she was looking for: Gold Dragon coins. With a grin, she emptied the sack into her hand and placed fifteen of the available twenty coins into her own pouch. Generously returning the last five to the rich man’s bag, Maranda slipped back into the shadows of the trees and continued on her journey to Winterfell.

A few hours later and a horse cantered to a stop before her, the man atop it glaring down at her. Naturally, the bow across her shoulder had slid down into her palm, and as the man dismounted into the snow, Maranda drew an arrow and readied herself to fire. Dark brown curls and a scruffy jawline alongside bright blue eyes almost made Maranda swoon, but she instead she straightened her back and kept a wary eye on the stranger.

“Name yourself,” the man ordered, resting a hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“Name yourself,” Maranda retorted.

“Lord Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North,” he announced and Maranda felt her stomach sink. He held an awful amount of titles, and importance, and she wanted no trouble. “And you?”

“Maranda.”

“Maranda…?”

“Stone,” she shrugged, her voice quieter than before.

“Why are you alone in the North, Maranda Stone?” Robb questioned.

“Just travelling,” she replied casually, earning a frown from the lord.

“May I see what’s in your pouch?” he asked with a nod at the heavy-looking sack tied to her waist. Maranda hesitated, her face faltering briefly before cracking into a charming smile.

“Not even going to buy me a drink first?” she teased but Robb did not react.

“Someone has stolen from me, and I believe it to be you. Hand it over,” he demanded. Maranda tightened her grip on her bow even though Robb had not yet withdrawn his sword.

“What an accusation! Why do you think it was me?” she questioned and then Robb whistled loudly. A beast leapt from the nearby trees and ran to Robb’s side in a flurry of white and grey.

“Because he led me right to you from my camp,” Robb explained with a gesture towards the direwolf.

“Very nice, but you’re not the only one who has a beast for a companion,” Maranda said with a smirk before cocking her head to the right. “Umbra! To me!” A few seconds after her call, a shadowcat appeared atop the snowy hill and stalked its way down to Maranda, cautious because of the nearby wolf.

“Is that… a shadowcat?” Robb stammered, eyes wide as Umbra affectionately rubbed her head against Maranda’s hip before locking eyes with the direwolf.

“Sure is,” Maranda said confidently, pulling her bow taut and aiming at Robb. She didn’t necessarily care who she wounded; they were alone, and she wasn’t having her coins taken or being punished for theft.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Robb warned and Maranda gave a short chuckle.

“Why not?” she wondered.

“Because it’s two against one,” another man said from behind her. Keeping her arrow focused on Robb, Maranda glanced over her shoulder and spied a man who had to have been Robb’s brother, a white direwolf with piercing red eyes at his side. Feeling completely trapped and unable to win, Maranda began to lower her bow.

“Huh…” she muttered to herself, wondering what the odds were of running into two direwolves on the same day.