Benjen adjusted the child in his arms and glanced across the quiet, frozen landscape. The sky had cleared somewhat, and the snow had stopped falling for now, leaving only the biting chill in the air. It was never truly warm beyond the Wall, but this morning felt sharper than most.
Beside him stood the large she-wolf, fur thick with frost, golden eyes watchful. And just behind her—smaller, clumsier, but mimicking every movement—trotted the pup. Its ears were too big for its head, and its paws flopped as it ran, but it kept up with surprising energy.
Benjen glanced at them both.
"Come on," he muttered, mostly to himself. "Let's get back to the horse."
---
It took them over an hour to reach the cluster of pine trees where Benjen had tethered his mount. The horse was skittish but unharmed, stomping its hooves nervously as it caught the scent of the wolves.
"They're not after you," Benjen murmured, petting its neck. "Relax."
He mounted slowly, wrapping the baby tight against his chest with spare cloth and fur. The child barely stirred—its little nose red with cold, but warm enough in the bundle.
The she-wolf paced around the horse once, then fell into step beside them. The pup hesitated a moment, sniffed the horse's leg, and then scampered after them with a soft yip.
Benjen allowed himself a faint smile. "Looks like we've got a pack now."
---
The journey south was slow and silent.
Benjen kept an eye on the sky, noting the clouds forming again near the mountains. "Three days if the snow holds. Four if it doesn't."
He mapped out the route in his mind—across the frozen river, down the ridge trail, around the old bear den near Hollow Rock. He'd taken this path many times alone. But never with a baby. And never with two direwolves shadowing his every move.
---
That night, as the last light faded, he found shelter beneath a rocky overhang. He set a small fire, gathered what dry branches he could, and spread his cloak on the ground.
The she-wolf sat nearby, watching. The pup wrestled with a stick, pouncing and growling in mock battle. Benjen couldn't help but laugh under his breath.
"You've got fight in you, huh?" he muttered.
The baby began to fuss, lips trembling from the cold. Benjen hushed it gently, shifting his arms to hold the bundle closer. "I know. I know, little one."
The fire helped, but not enough.
He felt the cold seeping in through his boots, through his gloves, into his spine.
Then—movement.
The she-wolf stepped closer, cautious but calm, and lay down beside him. She pressed her body lightly against his side, her thick fur a barrier against the wind.
The pup followed, curling on his other side, nose tucked under its tail. Benjen blinked in surprise—but didn't move.
He looked down at the baby between them all, now quiet again, fingers curled against his chest.
For the first time in days, warmth settled in.
---
The next morning, the pup woke him by pawing at his leg, trying to chew the end of his bootlace. Benjen snorted and waved it away, and the pup barked once, playfully.
The she-wolf had disappeared at dawn, but returned an hour later with a fresh rabbit in her jaws. Benjen nodded in quiet thanks.
He skinned and cleaned it quickly, then cooked it over the fire. The meat was tough, but warm. He saved the broth and used soaked cloth to feed the baby, bit by bit.
Not much. But enough.
That evening, the wolves stayed close again.
The pup nestled against his leg. The she-wolf rested her head near his shoulder. The baby slept in his arms, wrapped and breathing softly.
Benjen didn't say anything. He just sat in silence, staring into the fire, listening to the crackle of wood and the soft breaths around him.
He didn't understand what was happening—not really.
But for now, he didn't need to.