Lynn and his companions rode back to Winterfell.
Along the way, Lynn spent his time either riding or doing essential physical training.
Since he could improve his attributes through his own efforts, he would never waste any opportunity to do so.
Time slipped quietly by over the tedious journey.
At last, Winterfell's vast gray outline appeared once more on the distant horizon.
The direwolf banners atop its walls fluttered in the cold wind, as though welcoming them home.
The company's arrival caused a modest stir at the gates.
Robb Stark and Ser Rodrik hurried over when they heard the news.
But when they got a clear look at the arrivals, their steps slowed involuntarily.
This company looked nothing like it had when it left.
Every soldier was silent, their movements perfectly coordinated.
Lynn, riding at their head, felt even more strangely unfamiliar to them.
His face remained calm.
But something deeper had settled into his eyes.
Most striking of all were the two longswords at his waist.
They recognized one: Longclaw, the Valyrian steel sword the Old Bear had given him, though its bear-head pommel had been replaced with a direwolf's head.
The raven's message had already mentioned that.
But the other...
Robb's breath caught.
He had only seen that long, slender blade and its black jade dragon-head hilt in illustrations in ancient books.
Dark Sister, the ancestral sword of House Targaryen!
How had it ended up at Lynn's waist?
"Lynn!"
Robb suppressed the turmoil within him and strode forward.
"You're back!"
Lynn dismounted and nodded in greeting to Robb and Ser Rodrik.
"How is Bran?" Lynn immediately asked about what concerned him most.
"He's doing well."
At the mention of his brother, a trace of warmth softened Robb's tense face.
"Maester Luwin says he's recovering quickly. He can already