Thanks to the [Dragonbone Bow], a god-tier hunting tool, Arthur delivered an astonishing record over four days.
Five rabbits, two roe deer, four grouse, and over ten ravens.
Most of the ravens were captured alive. Arthur planned to give them to Maester Luwin to see if they could be trained.
Of course, this success was largely due to Alebelly and Cayn's familiarity with the Wolfswood, their logistical support, and the tracking ability of the hounds. After all, accuracy means nothing if you can't find a target.
Meanwhile, Robb and Domeric had actually managed to corner and kill a cave bear.
The attempt to capture it cost them four hounds and left two free riders and two guards with serious injuries. In the end, they were forced to put over twenty arrows into the beast to end its life.
Because of the barrage of arrows, the pelt was ruined. However, the cave bear's massive head and paws were salvaged, serving as trophies to declare the grand hunt a resounding success.
"That bear is bigger than I imagined," Jon said, staring enviously at the massive carcass on the makeshift wooden sledge. "It's a shame I missed seeing you hunt it."
Jon's haul consisted of a few rabbits and squirrels. He couldn't match Arthur in quantity or Robb in quality.
"You wouldn't want to see it when it's angry," Robb said, still shaken. "To be honest, I almost regret hunting the thing."
"I originally wanted the riders and guards to pin it down with the dogs so I could kill it with a spear and get a pristine pelt to prove my courage," Robb confided to Jon.
"But when I saw it crush the hounds with a few swipes, knock a rider off his horse, and charge roaring toward me… I swore right then and there that I would never have such a stupid idea again."
"If my guards hadn't stepped in front of me, that would be me lying on the sledge," young Robb shook his head. "I wouldn't have had the chance to finish it off after it was full of arrows."
Arthur put himself in Robb's shoes. Facing a massive cave bear head-on? He doubted he would have fared any better. More likely, the hunt would have turned into a 'hunting accident.'
Everyone knew that 'hunting accidents' ranked alongside 'trained physicians' as the two leading causes of premature death for heirs.
Thinking of this, Arthur marveled at Robb's luck and punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Whatever the process, you killed it. That is a cave bear. I think Uncle Ned will be proud of you."
Jon added, equally envious, "Listen to what everyone is calling you. Robb the Bear-Hunter. Robb the Fearless!"
"The honor belongs to everyone," Robb concluded, wincing as he rubbed his bruised shoulder.
When the hunting party returned to Winterfell, Maester Luwin received a raven. The returning northern host had passed Moat Cailin and was now on Northern soil.
During this time, noble ladies from across the North arrived at Winterfell with their children. Preparations for the grand victory feast were in full swing.
Noble feasts were never just about eating and drinking. They were opportunities to strengthen ties and forge alliances—most notably through betrothals and fostering.
Marriage as a political tool was obvious everywhere. But fostering was equally powerful in Westeros.
The classic example was Lord Eddard Stark and King Robert Baratheon, both fostered by Lord Jon Arryn of the Eyrie.
When the Mad King Aerys Targaryen executed Rickard and Brandon Stark in King's Landing, he demanded Jon Arryn send him the heads of his wards, Ned and Robert. Instead, the old Lord raised his banners in rebellion to protect his foster sons.
Of course, neither betrothals nor fostering offers were directed at the bastards named Snow.
All eyes were on Robb, Sansa, and even three-year-old Arya. Lady Catelyn guarded them like a mother hen protecting her chicks.
Arthur was happy to avoid the attention. He stopped going to the practice yard entirely, holeing up in the Library Tower until the army returned.
---
Winterfell, The East Gate
Arthur stood behind Robb, watching the endless column of soldiers winding up the Kingsroad like a grey-brown serpent. Even with many levies having peeled off to return to their own holdfasts, the host was massive.
Hundreds of banners snapped in the cold wind above them.
Leading the van was, of course, the Direwolf of House Stark. Beneath it rode Arthur's uncle, Lord Eddard Stark, whom he hadn't seen in months.
His long face was as solemn as ever. His stern expression often made strangers think him cold, but those who knew him found him gentle.
To his left flew the white sunburst of House Karstark. Beneath it rode Lord Rickard Karstark of Karhold. The Lord looked gaunt, his beard streaked with white, and he was speaking earnestly to Lord Eddard.
The Karstarks were a cadet branch of the Starks. Lord Rickard was a seasoned commander who had answered the call without hesitation—a close friend and impeccable bannerman to the Duke.
To the right of the Direwolf flew the Roaring Giant in shattered chains of House Umber. Beneath it rode the Greatjon and the Smalljon of Last Hearth. Both father and son were near seven feet tall, terrifying warriors to behold.
Behind the Direwolf followed the Stone Hand of House Flint of Flint's Finger; the Green Bear in the woods of House Mormont; the Black Battleaxe of House Cerwyn; the Pine Tree of House Tallhart; the Merman of House Manderly; and the Moose of House Hornwood.
Further back were the Red Flayed Man of House Bolton; the four Horseheads (gold, brown, grey, and black) of House Ryswell; and the Crossed Axes and Crown of House Dustin.
Before Winterfell, the host split. Eddard Stark led the lords and their retinues into the castle, while the common soldiers remained in the encampment outside the walls or were billeted in the winter town's empty houses.
"It has been hard on you, Cat," Eddard said, embracing Catelyn first. Then he ruffled Robb's hair approvingly.
"Robb the Fearless. Even Barristan the Bold wouldn't have dared face a bear at your age. You were brave."
"And my daughter has grown even more beautiful," Eddard said, straightening Sansa's dress, which Arya had disheveled. He then scooped up the little troublemaker, Arya, stopping her antics with a hug.
Finally, the Duke turned to Arthur and Jon, giving them a firm nod.
"We will have plenty of time to talk later. My Lords, please, follow me into Winterfell." Eddard stepped aside, ushering his bannermen through the gates.
After partaking of bread and salt, the northern nobility filed into the castle.
"Jon," Robb whispered, stepping aside to watch the Umbers enter. "Look at those two giants with your name. You could mistake them for cave bears. I'd bet anything that a cave bear standing on its hind legs isn't as tall or broad as them. How does Father make men like that obey him?"
"You should pay more attention to Lord Roose Bolton, Robb," Arthur whispered in Robb's ear, eyes fixed on the Leech Lord entering the gates.
"I heard leeches sucked all the passion out of him. A man who is absolutely cold and rational is far more terrifying than two big cave bears."
Robb and Jon looked toward Lord Bolton.
As if sensing their gaze, Roose Bolton turned his pale eyes directly toward them, locking onto Robb's blue ones.
Robb looked like a student caught daydreaming by a strict teacher and quickly lowered his head.
"You always hit the mark, Arthur," Robb muttered weakly once the Leech Lord had passed.
"I looked him in the eye for a second, and all I could think about was Old Nan's story about that room in the Dreadfort where the Boltons hang the skins of their enemies."
"Perhaps even a Stark skin or two," a voice with a southern accent said from beside them.
The sudden remark sent a chill down Jon's spine. He turned to look at the speaker—a boy about their own age.