Chapter 12: WhiteTree

Watching as the black Direwolf tore into the shadowcats ranks like a cat that found its way into a chicken coop. It was much bigger that the pony-sized beasts towering over the war horses who this time reacted in genuine fear a true predator was amongst their midst.

The giant wolf had black fur as pitch dark as the midnight sky, eyes that glowed a blood red, legs much more longer and powerful than regular wolves and a muzzle that was longer too and prominent.

Jon watched as it ripped and tore into the Shadowcats his feet frozen in place and his eyes glued to in fascination. A Direwolf, a real like direwolf stood right before him. The very beast that reprinted his house and stood for their sigil.

Legends had it the old Kings of the North had direwolves as companions and mounts which they rode into battle. However that was something that faded to legend and myth long ago.

Now however a piece of that legend stood right before him.

Without even realizing what his feet were even doing, he took a step forward in the snowy earth littered with bodies and blood. Then another and another as soon he was walking up to the majestic and awe-inspiring creature that made sport of the deadly hunters.

Hacking away automatically at any Shadowcat that even got in his way, the black Direwolf seem to have taken notice of him as it stopped killing the terrified little cats.

Perring at him with those dark deep pools of ruby colored eyes, Jon was within striking distance of it as it could have easily torn at him with one of its giant bloody paws. But it didn't do so, all it did was sit there on its hunches.

From far away he could hear someone shouting his name, his nuncle maybe, but his eyes and all his focus was on the giant wolf as he inched closer and closer to it. Until he had his hand out and slowly ever so slowly rested it on the black Direwolf's muzzle.

He could feel how powerful it was underneath his hand, as large puffs of air left its mouth, and then it began to lull its tongue.

Laughing he begin to scratch its neck and it started to lick him while he could feel the shadowcats blood on its tongue.

"What are you doing BOY!" his nuncle shouted as he was the only one brave enough to come towards him while this giant beast stood right next to him. He could see how terrified and awed his men were as they stood near the wagons, not daring to move an inch or let out a breath in fear.

"Nuncle, it a Direwolf, a real-life direwolf," he exclaimed like a little kid on a festival as he patted the beast on the head.

"Aren't you a good boy, huh?" he asked as the giant wolf let out a bark sounding that close to a happy do.

"Yeah, I can see that," the man agreed as excitement won on too in his tone. He was after all a Stark like him and just at the sight of it his blood sang as if it came to life and found its long lost companion.

Nevertheless taking a stern tone with him, he pinched his ear like a little child, "Still that doesn't matter," he shouted at him. "You just don't walk up to any beast you meet."

"Ouch, Ouch, Ouch, Ouch, I am sorry nuncle Benjen. Could you please let got of my ear."

Ignoring him, he continued, "and to compound your mess what were you doing commanding your men to go after the fleeing Shadowcats, huh?! The woods are their place and they could have made easy picking of everyone, plus did you forget the wildling in the area?"

Suddenly out of the woods another Direwolf walked out of the forest and the two of them paused what they were doing. She... he got the distinct feeling that she was a female direwolf while the black direwolf seem to be a male. Her fur was that of pure white like that of fresh snow that fell from the skies and eyes of sapphire blue.

She gazed at the two of them and tilted her head to the side, but then was interpreted of her intersection as the black direwolf nuzzled his head agist her neck.

Walking out to them with his nuncle right behind him, he could see how pregnant the white direwolf was as her stomach was slightly swollen. "Is she your mate," he asked the black direwolf as if it could understand him which he some how felt that it did.

Glancing up at him, he could somehow feel pride and joy coming off the black direwolf in waves. Chuckling he turned to the two of them and asked the most important question, "Do you want to come with me? I can promise to keep you safe especially during this birthing cycle and well fed and sheltered." he inquired of them

Then trying to add some merit to his idea, he amended, "Even for such powerful and breathtaking creatures like you, the wilds can be dangerous."

He really did want o keep them safe, but he also wanted to bring them back to Winterfell. With how pregnant the white direwolf was his brothers and sisters might be able to get a direwolf for themselves something that hasn't happened for hundreds of years.

The one to answer was the male but the white direwolf who howled in agreement just like any worried mother would.

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After a few days of traveling to this snowy landscape, Jon and his men finally came upon the first piece of wildling settlement. The rest of their journey was relative peace thanks in part to him maybe starting a small wildfire, it was difficult work he admitted thanks to how damp the snow and ice made everything, but it did the trick in end as it scared off anybody who would have continued to harass him.

Looking over a rise at the make shift village with a few wooden structures here and there and mostly made up of tents. Jon took in all that Whitetree had to offer, as his nuncle put it, this was a small free folk village with ancient Weirwood planted there.

Just like his people Weirwood trees were sacred to the wildling, and in any land with one as ancient as the one planted here no blood unless that of a heretic and traitor could be shed.

So this was one of the few places black brothers could come without being struck down where they stood. If there was any place to begin his survey of the land to look for something to better his home and land, this was where he should begin first.

As the sun was setting, his group finally walking into the village premises if you could call it that since there was no bound to mark or protect the place. People came out of their tents as they looked on at his group a few in curiosity but most however looked at him with hostile looks and no lack of animosity.

"Are you sure we should have come here, nuncle?" he whispered to the older Stark. "I don't doubt your wisdom, but they look like they would knife us in the middle of the night."

"They hold more reverence to the old Gods and their tradition," Benjen answered as they came to a stop at a hut a bit more larger than the few surrounding the great big ancient Weirwood in the center of the village.

Walking out of the hut was a big man that could give Greatjon a run for his money with how big he was. He had long black hair that cascaded down his back and hard grey eyes. "What are you doing here, Stark in my village?!"

"Orrand so good to see you, how are you old friend?" his nuncle asked with a grin.

"Much worse now that you are here," the man answered as he glanced up at the armored and mounted Northern man. "Are you here to invade, you will need a lot more than that some weak flowery boys," he scuffed.

Looking piqued at his insult, Jon held his hand out to ease his men before they started reaching for their swords.

"No, nothing like that," Benjen answered with a shake of his head. "Mind if we talk about it inside," he pointed to the hovel.

"Come in then," the man answered, "but with none of your steel," he said as he flipped the hide that acted as a door.

"Ancients," Jon called out as the men trot over on their horses, "I will count of you to keep the men in line, but don't take any bull from anyone."

With that, he got off his horse and unbuckled his sword and the other weapons on his person then put it in his pack. "Alright Fenrir," he whispered to the Direwolf that looked at him, he decided that was the perfect name for it and it seem to like it very much. "Stay here I will be back soon, okay, boy!"

Wagging its tail at him, he wondered if it was more dog than wolf, but remembering how it tore into those shadowcats he guessed it was safe to assume wolf.

Walking into the tent he saw how inadequately it was furnished with only animal pelts acting as a bed, some roots, herbs, and shrubs hanging off the upper vaults. He only made a courtesy glance around the place as only the vegetation attracted him as he wondered what they were that they grew here.

Somehow taking notice of his look, the man spoke up, "I know we do not have much in the way of things like you Northerns, but we get by."

Taking in a seat around dug in fire pit, a red-haired woman which he noted how beautiful she was- walked in with small rustic cups filled with a strange smelling concoction.

He stared up at his nuncle as he swallowed the whole thing in one gulp while the wildling man did the same as well. Taking a sip for propriety's sake, he coughed and sputtered as the foul tasting thing went down his throat.

looking at him with a raised eyebrow, his nuncle patted him on the back, while the two of them guffawed at him and even the woman smiled at him as he tried to ease his rancour tongue.

"It seems the taste of True Northern drinks is a bit too much for some," the wildling man continued to chuckle.

"Out woman," he said with no lack of warmth as what he assumed to be his wife nodded her head and walked out with the cups in hand.

"Now that we have shared drinks, tell me Stark what brings you here?" he asked with sharp eyes focused on them.

"We come here baring no ill harm Orrand," his nuncle answered, "we observe the same customs as you even though we might deny it. We know the place around a Weirwood especially on eas old as this is sacred."

"That's good and all Benjen, but you still did not tell me why you have come here in such force and with Northern men. I thought you left all the so called petty things of moral men and sworn yourself to the black."

"I have," the older Stark answered, "but it is my nephew you would ask why we are here," as he pointed to him which came as a surprise.

He thought that the older man would do all the taking, but now it seem like he wasn't lying when he said he would be leader.

"This little pup?" the big man asked with a scuff.

Clearing his throat to get his attention, "I will have you know village chief that I am no mere pup, assume so at your own peril."

"Hahahaha, it seems like you have some teeth in you! Alright, I will hear you out, go ahead."

"Thank you," he nodded his head. "The honest truth is," he begin with as this seem the best path to take with this man. Free folk were a primitive lot who were always fighting against each other and us so called Kneelers, but they also place importance in a man keeping his word and being honest and frank. So that was the bet he was taking.

"We are here to see how you survive in these cold wastes, what methods do you use and do you implore. As you know we are nearly a similar land albeit a bit warmer, still I believe that there is much we can learn form you and if it is only just one thing then I would count that as a blessing from the Old Gods themselves and thank my luck."

Nodding his head as he rubbed his short beard, the man finally spoke up, "The truth is we barely get by, however all the same we do not jealously guard are secrets like you Kneelers, all is freely given to anyone willing to learn. But...." he said.

Of course, there would be a but he told himself with a eyeroll. Nothing is ever freely given in this world.

"but what?" his nuncle asked with a narrowed look.

"But I will want your help with something if you want us to share our ways of surviving here in this land."

"What exactly is this help we must give?" Jon asked, curious to know.

"We have a problem here in the village, one called the Grim Lake tribe. They come in the middle of the night and steal my people and carry them off."

"Its that like part of you culture?" Jon asked, he knew that the Free folk had primitive traditions of marriage as men are expected to steal a woman from their home or clan. The women, in turn, are expected to put up a fight every step of the way.

"No, they do not steal them for wives and husbands... they eat them," his nuncle answered. "I know of the tribe they are one of the cannibal tribe, but aren't they from the Frozen shores, what are they doing here?"

"Who knows," the big man answered, "maybe one of the bigger tribes kicked them out or they didn't have any more game to hunt."

"Cannibal...." Jon whispered, "but I thought it was just something that we made up to paint them in a bad light."

"No sadly this is one truth that hasn't been made up," his nuncle sadly shook his head. Then turning back to Orrand, he asked, "I know you wouldn't have stood for this, so they out number your warriors correct." he asked in a plain statement.

"Yes, you are correct Stark. Their tribe numbers 2,000 with 300 able warriors while I have here with me more than that of course, 5,000, but only half of that, 150 are fit warriors."

"So you want us to help you conduct a raid against them," Benjen finished.

"Yes," the man answered with a nod of his head, "then my people will be at your beck and call to teach you everything of our ways."

"Even with our help that still doesn't look good," Jon cut in. Thanks to that Shadowcat attack he lost 3 men right of the bat in the initial attack, and 3 more were injured with one expiring on the way and another tighed to the wagons with light injuries.

That left him with 115 of which 15 of them were support personal such as cooks, drivers, baggage boys, and Maester Luwin apprentice who looked to be more of a reader of course then a fighter.

So he could only field 100 men and if you included the supposed 150 the man had which he did not know the state of, they only numbered 250.  Now that was against 300 who they were going to raid their village which they would face even more armed violence.

"I think you would be interested to know," Orrand supplied, "that they were the ones to set the Shadowcats against you."

"Where they know?" he asked with hard steely eyes.

He was still angry at the loss of those 4 men and the injury of the fifth it was a personal affront to him and he felt like he was the one who let them down since he was there leader.

Now to find out the perpetrator being the attack made him go cold inside like a vein of hard ice. Now this was personal for him and his men.

All of the sudden the hopeless outlook turned to only a hard challenge that they would need to overcome.