The Wildlings

At the entrance of Winterfell Main Keep, Blood Wind's gray fur bristled, ears pricked straight up, his fluffy tail raised high as he threw back his head in a long howl, cutting an imposing figure.

The other five direwolves, still puppy-like, pressed their limbs flat to the ground, their fur lying smooth, ears and tails drooping low in a posture of submission.

"Robb, is this your Blood Wind?"

Eddard, who rarely showed surprise, was genuinely stunned by Blood Wind's growth rate.

"Yes, Father Lord. He... eats and sleeps a lot, so he grew faster."

Robb first nodded in confirmation, then hesitated briefly before offering the excuse he'd prepared.

Eddard nodded, using his gaze to stop Catelyn, who wanted to question him, and the other children who were eager to pester Robb. "Go on, Robb. We'll wait for your return."

"Yes, Father, Mother. I'll take my leave."

Seeing that Eddard indeed pressed no further, Robb bowed to his parents and headed toward the training ground with Blood Wind, who was gradually calming down.

"Hmph, Robb's a glutton, and his Blood Wind's a glutton too. Nymeria, you need to eat more and grow up fast!"

"Pfft, Arya, even if she ate twice as much, she'd still be about your size."

Watching Robb walk off with the majestic Blood Wind, Arya crouched to pick up her own direwolf, muttering to herself.

Sansa, overhearing her, covered her mouth with a laugh, teasing her mischievous little sister.

Arya rolled her eyes at her, then carried Nymeria back into the main keep alone.

"Jon, that excuse from Brother could only fool Arya and Rickon, right? Why did Blood Wind grow so fast?"

Brandon tugged at Jon's sleeve and asked.

Jon's handsome face was full of thought. He glanced at Brandon, who was questioning him, then shook his head with a smile, indicating he didn't know how to answer either.

Catelyn heard the children's chatter behind her. She reached out and placed her hand on Eddard's shoulder, speaking softly. "Ned, Robb's excuse wouldn't fool a child. He's plainly telling us he has his own secrets, isn't he?"

"Cat, our son has grown up."

Eddard didn't answer his wife's question directly.

Instead, he covered her pale hand with his own rough, calloused one, a meaningful smile tugging at his lips.

When Robb arrived at the training ground, all the guards were already standing by their horses, clad in armor bearing their respective house sigils.

They were only mildly surprised by the imposing Blood Wind, unaware of his extraordinary growth rate.

Theon, holding two horses by the reins, stepped forward and handed one set of reins to Robb, letting out an incredulous exclamation. "Robb, this wolf is Blood Wind? The little pup we rescued a few days ago?"

"Ten days ago. Yes, this is Blood Wind."

Robb took the warhorse's reins, replied quietly to Theon, then turned and announced loudly to the guards, "You should all know the details of this mission by now. Mount up. We ride."

"As you command, Lord Robb!"

With a crisp, unified response, all thirty-two men, including Robb, swung onto their horses in one smooth, practiced motion—clean and impressive.

The column of riders filed out of Winterfell's North Gate, then picked up speed, heading northeast toward Long Lake. Blood Wind ran alongside Robb, keeping pace.

After being cooped up in his room for so long, Blood Wind could finally run free, unleashing his wild instincts.

At the junction of Long Lake's southwestern shore and the Wolfswood, Captain Jory was stationed with over a hundred and ninety Winterfell soldiers in a temporary camp.

After half a day's ride, Robb's group arrived at the camp.

"A few days ago, House Bolton sent a raven saying a band of forty to fifty wildlings had somehow slipped past Black Castle and Last Hearth, attacking their territory's watch posts and nearby villages.

Lord Roose, the Count of the Dreadfort, led several hundred riders to surround them, but they broke through early and fled into our House Stark lands.

Oh, and those deserters we killed earlier—they were from that watch post."

After exchanging pleasantries, Jory eagerly briefed Robb on the situation.

"Lord Eddard ordered me to take two hundred cavalry to wipe them out, but these wildlings are cunning. Once they spotted us, they made straight for terrain where horses can't move well.

After days of pursuit, we've cornered them in this stretch of woods, but the forest is their home ground. I led men in and didn't even see their faces before losing several people.

I reported to Lord Eddard, and he told me to set up camp and wait for your reinforcements."

"Captain Jory, no wonder I haven't seen you lately—you've been hunting wildlings. Right, I've got the gist. From now on, I'm taking over this mission."

"Of course!"

With a few casual words and a laugh, Robb smoothly took command.

He gazed at the lush green forest and murmured, "But this time, you'll be playing support."

On a flat patch of green within the Wolfswood, a crude camp of makeshift tents stood.

A group of wildlings, wrapped in ragged furs and radiating murderous intent, sat in a circle, chattering noisily.

"I say, once it's dark tonight, we charge straight into their camp and slaughter them. Those southerners are just soft eggs without their horses and armor."

"Right! Right! Ever since those southerners started chasing us on horseback, we haven't had a good meal or a good sleep. Might as well take the fight to them."

"Yes, those southerners from before were too easy to kill."

"Don't look down on southerners. Most of them are cowards, sure, but there are plenty of tough ones too. Aren't those crows also southerners without armor?"

A female Wildling with a clean face and messy brown hair wiped her homemade spear as she spoke, warning the Wildlings who had gotten a bit too cocky.

The moment she spoke, the Wildlings all fell silent and turned to look at her. From this reaction, it was clear she was their leader.

Wildlings believed in strength and the rule of the weak being prey to the strong. They accepted this female Wildling as their leader because she had led them through countless narrow escapes.

"Osha, then what do you say we do? If we just wait around, never mind the food problem, more and more southerners will show up outside."

One male Wildling, holding a sharp axe with a messy beard covering most of his face, asked.

Osha smiled faintly and answered with confidence, "What does it matter if there are more southerners? The forest is our domain. If they dare come in here to fight us, they're asking for death.

If we really can't win, we'll just flee deeper into the forest. No matter how harsh the environment is in there, can it be worse than the Haunted Forest?"

"That's all well and good, but we climbed over the Wall at the risk of our lives to live a better life. Is hiding in the forest forever really a better life?"

"That's right!"

"We don't want to keep hiding!"

One Wildling's words struck a chord with the others, and they started chattering again.

"We won't be trapped for long! You all know that the King-Beyond-the-Wall has already begun gathering a great army. Before long, all these southerners will go help those crows.

When that happens, our good days will come!

Every village of these southerners will be like a piece of fragrant, juicy meat, ours for the taking!"

Osha's eyes gleamed as she spoke, a look of longing on her face.