The morning sky was the color of cold iron, the air so sharp it stung the inside of the nose. Elias pulled his fur-lined cloak tighter as he adjusted the bow at his shoulder and checked the weight of the quiver at his hip. His gloves were thin enough for a clean draw but warm enough to keep his fingers nimble. Beside the bow, he carried a coil of rope for snares and a skinning knife sheathed at his belt.
By the time he stepped into the courtyard, Robb and Jon were already waiting, similarly dressed in layered wool and fur. Both carried short bows sized for their arms, quivers hanging at their hips. Jon had a coil of rope like Elias's, Robb carried a small satchel for game.
"You're sure we can come?" Robb asked, more eager than questioning.
Elias gave a short nod. "If you're quiet and you listen."
Jon's steady gaze met his. "We will."
They left Winterfell by the eastern gate, passing under the raised portcullis into a world of snow-draped pines and frozen earth. Their boots broke the crust of snow with each step, breath misting in the cold.
The wolfswood loomed ahead, ancient trees creaking under the weight of ice. Elias moved at a steady pace, eyes scanning for fresh tracks or signs of disturbed snow. Robb trailed a few paces behind, shifting between excitement and impatience, while Jon mirrored Elias's silence, gaze darting to every movement in the underbrush.
They worked methodically:
First, they set two snares along a rabbit run Elias had found earlier in the week, the noose hidden beneath a dusting of snow.
Then they tracked a set of fox prints leading toward the frozen stream, keeping downwind until Robb loosed an arrow clean through its flank. The animal went still almost instantly.
By midday, they'd taken two hares from the snares, their bodies limp but intact — good for both meat and the ritual ahead.
It was near dusk when they found what Elias had been hoping for.
A wolf's prints, large and fresh, crossed their path, the stride purposeful and unhurried. Elias crouched, brushing his gloved fingers across the indentations. "It's alone," he murmured. "Big. Likely an alpha."
They followed the trail in silence for nearly half an hour, moving slow, avoiding branches that would snap underfoot. When the wolf finally came into sight, it was standing broadside on a low ridge, fur a mottled grey-white that blended with the snow.
Elias signaled them to spread — Robb to the left, Jon to the right. They nocked arrows in unison. Elias exhaled slowly, the world narrowing to the line of the wolf's ribs.
The three arrows flew almost as one. The wolf jerked at the first impact, stumbled at the second, and collapsed after the third. It was over quickly — no waste, no struggle.
Robb was grinning as they approached. "That was clean."
Jon knelt beside the fallen predator, running his fingers gently through the thick winter coat. "Beautiful," he said quietly.
Elias didn't answer. The wolf's worth lay ahead, in a place neither of them could follow.
By the time they returned to Winterfell, dusk had deepened into a violet haze. Elias sent Robb and Jon ahead to the kitchens with the smaller game. He kept the wolf slung across his own shoulders, the weight dragging at him but manageable with the steady rhythm of his steps.
He carried it straight to the godswood.
The heart tree's face watched him with its solemn red eyes as he knelt at its roots, lowering the wolf onto the snow. The air here was still, heavy, as if waiting.
He pressed his palm to the wolf's brow and began the ritual the Old Gods had shown him. His breath slowed, his vision dimmed. Mana seeped from him into the body, loosening the tether between flesh and spirit.
Light bled from the wolf's chest — faint at first, then deepening into rich amber. It rose, weightless, drifting upward until it hovered between him and the weirwood.
One wolf soul: high-value predator.
He willed it toward the tree, and the world shifted. Beneath the roots, the soul vault opened — an endless darkness lit by floating orbs.
Squirrels and hares: small white motes, barely brighter than candles.
Foxes: sharp gold sparks, steady and quick.
Wolves: larger, richer amber spheres, each pulsing with a faint echo of their former strength.
And deeper within — a single crimson orb. Human. Blazing, untouchable.
The new wolf soul drifted to join its kin, pulsing once before settling. The vault closed.
A sound behind him broke the silence.
Robb stood just beyond the tree's shadow, Jon at his shoulder. "You were praying?" Robb asked, uncertain.
Elias rose, brushing snow from his knees. "Something like that."
Jon's eyes went to the wolf. "The light—what was it?"
"The Old Gods' blessing," Elias said evenly. "A way to honor what we take."
It seemed enough for Robb. Jon lingered, his brow furrowed in thought.
That night, Elias reviewed his stockpile in the quiet of his chambers.
Soul ledger:
7 wolf souls (amber, high-value predator).
5 fox souls (gold, mid-value predator).
Dozens of hares and squirrels (white, low-value).
1 human soul (crimson, unmatched potency — not for this project).
The numbers were strong enough for what he had planned — the ultimate hunting and guard beasts. Wolves and northern dog breeds shared enough structure that the merge would be almost natural. Low risk. High return.
He didn't need to trouble his father with the expense. The modest allowance Ned granted him each year — a sum Elias rarely spent — had quietly grown over time. Between that and the pelts and smoked meat he could offer in trade, he could afford the dogs without touching Winterfell's coffers. In truth, it was a better use of coin than letting it sit idle. Dogs earned their keep. Dogs could guard, hunt, and stand watch long after a sack of grain was gone.
He sent quiet word to trusted breeders across the North, requesting their finest hounds: mastiffs, wolfhounds, elk hounds, and spitz-types, all bred for endurance, strength, and loyalty.
Within days, they began arriving, brought on sledges or by horseback. Elias examined each animal closely, running his hands along their flanks, studying eyes, teeth, and gait. Two stood out — one male, one female — to serve as the base for the alpha pair.
That night, in the godswood, he added their souls to the vault. The gold lights slid into place beside the amber wolves, the glow blending into a warm harmony.
The work would begin soon. And when it was done, he would walk the North with a pack at his side that no man or beast could stand against.