The fire had burned itself out by the time the sound reached me, leaving behind nothing but gray ash and a faint trace of warmth that was already fading into the cold ground beneath it. I woke to it slowly, not with a jolt, but with the steady awareness that something outside my shelter didn't belong to the forest.
It wasn't the wind.
The sound came in steady intervals, the dull thud of hooves pressing into wet earth, followed by voices that carried just enough through the trees to tell me they were human. I pushed myself up, shaking the dry needles from my coat as I stepped out from beneath the fallen trunk, noticing as I moved that my body responded more easily than it had the day before.
The awkwardness hadn't disappeared completely, but it had faded into something manageable, the motion of four legs no longer fighting me with every step. That alone told me I was adapting, whether I wanted to or not.
I didn't rush toward the noise.
Moving straight in would have been careless, and nothing about this place rewarded carelessness, so I kept low and moved through the brush instead, letting the trees and undergrowth break up my shape while I followed the sound at an angle.
The air changed as I got closer.
The smells came through more clearly now, layering over each other in a way that was easier to sort through than it should have been. Horse, leather, sweat, and something else underneath it that made me slow slightly as I picked it apart.
Blood.
Not fresh enough to warn me of immediate danger, but not old enough to ignore either.
I didn't jump to conclusions.
It could have been anything.
But it narrowed the possibilities.
I adjusted my path without thinking about it, staying downwind as I moved closer, letting my nose guide me more than my eyes. The ground rose slightly ahead, forming a low ridge that gave me a better view without exposing me completely.
I eased up to it carefully and looked down.
The scene below settled into place slowly, not because it was hard to understand, but because I didn't let myself assume anything too quickly.
A stag lay tangled in the brush, its body still and twisted at an unnatural angle, and not far from it was something larger, heavier, its size enough to make me pause for a second before I fully took it in.
A wolf.
Too large for a normal one.
I didn't label it immediately, but the thought followed anyway.
Men stood around it, their cloaks heavy and damp in the morning air, their posture relaxed in the way people stood after something had already been decided.
I stayed where I was, watching instead of stepping in.
"A mountain lion, maybe?" one of them said.
The voice matched what I expected, even if I didn't fully trust the recognition.
"There are no mountain lions in these woods."
That voice carried more weight and firm without needing to be raised.
I didn't assume names.
I didn't need to.
The way they spoke, the way they moved around him, was enough.
Below, one of the younger ones stepped closer to the wolf and pulled something from its throat, holding it up for the others to see.
The pieces started to line up, but I didn't treat them as fact.
Not yet.
I watched instead.
The moment changed when the pups were found.
That part didn't need explanation. It changed the mood immediately, pulling attention away from the carcass and toward something smaller, something alive.
I stayed where I was, letting it play out without interfering.
This wasn't my moment.
I watched as each one was picked up, the tension rising and settling in the way decisions tend to do when they matter more than anyone wants to admit.
When the smallest one was brought forward, the white one, the air shifted again.
That was the point where things could have gone either way.
"Lord Stark," the boy called out.
I didn't move.
I didn't need to.
I let the exchange play out fully, watching the hesitation behind the decision, and the way it settled once it was made.
"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves."
That was it.
The moment closed.
They started to move again, the tension easing as the decision turned into action.
That was when I made mine.
Staying in the forest meant surviving on my own, which wasn't impossible but didn't leave much room for error. Following them meant something else entirely, something less certain but with more options if it worked.
I didn't rush into it.
I stepped out from the treeline at a steady pace, letting them see me clearly instead of surprising them with sudden movement.
The reaction was immediate.
Heads turned. Hands moved. Sword moved just enough to remind me how quickly things could go wrong if I made a mistake here.
"What in the hells is that?" one of them muttered.
I didn't react to him.
I kept moving, not fast, not slow, just controlled, passing the carcass without stopping and closing the distance until I was within clear view of the man at the center.
I stopped there.
Sat.
Held still.
I kept my posture steady and met his gaze directly, not challenging, not submissive, just present in a way that made it clear I wasn't acting on instinct alone.
His horse moved under him, uneasy, and he pulled back slightly on the reins while studying me with a focus that told me he wasn't the type to rush a decision.
"It's a dog," the older boy said.
"Look at the color of it."
"No dog looks like that," another replied, already reaching for a bow.
"Let me put an arrow in it, My Lord. It's probably some stunted forest freak."
A hand went up.
That was enough to stop it.
He didn't take his eyes off me.
That mattered.
He was looking for something.
Fear. Aggression. Anything that would make this simple.
I didn't give him that.
I kept my breathing steady, my body still, letting him see exactly what I wanted him to see.
Control.
Awareness.
Choice.
Another rider moved closer, slower this time, carrying one of the pups.
"He isn't afraid, Father."
"He isn't a wolf."
That answer came, but certain enough to matter.
He dismounted and walked toward me.
I didn't move.
He stopped within reach, then lowered himself, extending a gloved hand slowly, giving me time to react if I chose to.
I didn't pull back.
I didn't lean in immediately either.
I let him close the distance first, then moved just enough to meet him halfway, pressing my forehead lightly against his palm.
Not forced.
Not exaggerated.
Just enough.
He paused.
Then I felt it, the slight shift in his hand, the way his attention sharpened.
"He's warm."
That part caught him off guard.
"Warmer than any beast I've touched."
"Can we keep him?" the youngest one asked, the question coming out quickly, before anyone could shut it down.
He stood again, looking around the clearing as if expecting something else to explain me.
There wasn't anything.
No tracks. No sign of where I came from.
Just me.
"A lone hound in the Wolfswood," he said, more to himself than anyone else.
"He wouldn't last a night with the winter coming."
He looked at me again, then at the sky, as if weighing something that didn't have a clean answer.
"Jory."
A man stepped forward.
"Find a place for the creature in the wagon. If he stays quiet, he comes to Winterfell. If he bites, throw him to the woods."
That was fair.
I didn't wait to be led.
I turned, walked to the wagon, and jumped up into the back without hesitation, settling onto a pile of rough blankets as if I'd already made the decision before he had.
I stayed still.
Didn't make a sound.
The system flickered faintly at the edge of my vision.
[Level: 1] [Status: Healthy / Sheltered]
The wagon started moving soon after, the motion steady enough to settle into, and I watched the trees pass by as the forest slowly gave way.
I didn't think too far ahead.
There wasn't any point.
One step at a time had gotten me this far.
It would have to be enough for now.
I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm of the wheels take over as I settled into a light sleep, not fully relaxed, but no longer on edge.
Wherever this was, whatever came next, I wasn't in the woods alone anymore.
That was enough for now.