Direwolf

The winter wind showed no sign of letting up.

Two guards held Lynn up, one on either side.

He stumbled across the snow-covered ground, his feet sinking unevenly.

The cold touch of his chains seeped from his wrists, spreading along his arms and through his whole body.

Every breath drew in air as sharp as knives, stabbing painfully at his lungs.

Lynn was in terrible shape.

The body's original owner had deserted the Night's Watch and fled south from the Wall, leaving him at the end of his strength.

Hunger and cold had drained the last of his stamina.

His outburst at the execution ground had used up almost all of Lynn's energy.

Now, Lynn could only let himself be dragged along.

At the head of the party rode Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.

He sat astride a tall warhorse, his broad back as steady as a mountain.

The Valyrian greatsword called Ice had been sheathed and slung diagonally across his back.

Yet his invisible aura of authority still hung over the entire party.

His sons followed behind him.

The older boys, Robb and Jon Snow, rode side by side.

They were speaking quietly, their expressions solemn.

Theon Greyjoy looked much more relaxed, even finding the time to tease his horse.

The youngest, Bran Stark, rode beside his father as he had been instructed.

A trace of pallor still lingered on his young face.

Lynn's gaze swept over those youthful figures before returning to the monotonous stretch of snow before him.

He knew perfectly well that he had only survived for the moment.

Ned Stark was no fool.

A story about White Walkers could, at most, earn him a chance to be questioned.

If he failed to provide more valuable information, or if his account was judged a lie...

The Valyrian greatsword called Ice could be laid against his neck again at any moment.

And this time, there would be no lucky escape.

"Bran."

Ned Stark's low voice sounded through the wind, reaching Bran's ears clearly.

Ned did not look back. He merely slowed his horse so that his son's mount could keep pace more easily.

"Do you understand why I brought you here today?"

Bran's small hands gripped the reins tightly as he looked up at his father's profile.

"Jon said I was old enough to watch an execution."

"Not just that."

There was a note of instruction in Ned Stark's voice.

"Do you understand why I had to execute him?"

"Because he deserted the Night's Watch."

Bran answered quickly.

"Yes."

Lord Ned gave a slight nod.

"But he is also a man."

"Our laws are ancient. Deserters must be put to death."

"I never take pleasure in it, Bran."

"But my duty does not allow me to shrink from it."

Ned looked toward the distant gray-white horizon.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."

"If you would take a man's life, you should at least look into his eyes and hear his last words."

"If you cannot do that, perhaps he does not deserve to die."

He spoke those words not only to Bran, but to every child of House Stark behind him.

"Bran, you must remember that one day you will become Robb's bannerman."

"You will govern lands of your own for your brother and your king, and enforcing the law will be part of your duty."

"When that time comes, you must never take pleasure in killing, nor shirk your responsibility."

"Face it. Never run from it!"

"Otherwise, you will soon lose your reverence for life."

This was the law of House Stark.

It was the law of the North.

Lynn listened in silence.

He knew this conversation.

This was Ned Stark teaching his children their first lessons in honor and duty.

A man so honorable that he bordered on inflexible.

But that was precisely why Lynn's gamble had paid off.

Bran fell silent for a moment, seemingly trying to absorb his father's words.

Yet his young mind clearly could not fully grasp the weight behind them.

Something else concerned him more.

"Father."

Bran's voice held a child's natural curiosity, along with a trace of fear he could not hide.

"What that deserter said... was it true?"

"The White Walkers... do they really exist?"

The moment he asked, the mood of the party shifted subtly.

Robb and Jon stopped talking and looked over together.

Even some of the flippancy faded from Theon Greyjoy's face.

Whether deliberately or not, everyone's gaze settled on the prisoner under guard at the rear of the party.

Lynn kept his head lowered, as though he had not noticed their stares.

Eddard Stark did not answer for a long time.

The wind and snow whipped his cloak into a snapping flutter.

"Long ago, in the Age of Heroes, the Long Night fell."

At last he spoke, his voice deep and distant.

"The First Men fought beside the Children of the Forest, and only then did they drive those things back to the Lands of Always Winter in the far north."

"Brandon Stark built the Wall, and the Night's Watch was founded to guard against their return."

"These are the stories recorded in our histories."

Bran's eyes lit up briefly, then quickly dimmed again.

"So they're only stories, aren't they?"

Eddard Stark fell silent.

He could not give a definite answer.

As Warden of the North, he knew the weight of those ancient legends better than anyone.

The North was not like the warm south.

Here, people revered the Old Gods and believed in magic.

"We have not seen White Walkers for thousands of years."

That was what Ned finally said.

The answer was ambiguous, neither a confirmation nor a denial.

But the gravity it carried sent a shiver of unease through Bran's young heart.

Just then, Jon Snow, riding at the very front, suddenly reined in his horse.

"My lord!"

There was a note of surprise in his voice.

The entire party came to a halt.

Shoved by the guards, Lynn stopped as well.

He raised his head and followed Jon's gaze.

A huge dark shape lay in the snow a short distance away.

It was the carcass of a beast.

It was far larger than an ordinary wolf, almost the size of a small horse.

Its dark gray fur was matted with dried black blood, and a broken antler had pierced deep into its throat.

A fatal wound.

"We really did find a direwolf!"

Robb Stark's voice was full of astonishment.

Ned, too, whipped his head around to look at Lynn.

He hurriedly dismounted and went forward to examine the wolf's carcass.