Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 8

The stars were her guide.

She knew enough now to tell which way was southeast. She moved in that direction until she found a wide path– the Kingsroad. This, she could follow out of The Neck, at which point she'd see the seat of House Frey in the distance.

She'd never met any of the Frey children, though she heard there were many– some maybe as old as her parents had been. She wondered which of them Robb would marry or had married. She remembered her mother mentioning in a letter that Arya had been betrothed to one of the boys, too. Gods, her little sister wouldn't like that.

Lyarra wasn't sure why Robb would be at the Twins to begin with. She had no idea what'd been happening since the letters stopped arriving at Winterfell, and it wasn't as if Maggy was going to reveal every small detail– did she even know it all?

She accepted that the witch hadn't been able to tell her about every last stone on the path– that was for Lyarra to figure out on her own as she walked. She knew enough to take the path, and that would need to suffice.

Her heart felt heavy as she imagined herself walking further and further away from Jon, Bran, and Rickon. What were her little brothers doing? How was Jon going to die, and when?

She felt the pouch of seeds tapping against her leg, safely tucked under her skirt. As long as she had those seeds, she could plant her garden anywhere she'd liked. Within were the keys to making flowers to help or harm, all the poisons and their antidotes. She knew how to mix them, and needed only to remember it all if it came time to use it.

She traveled slower with Minisa in tow, having to stop often to clean and nourish the babe. Nana would guard over them as they slept, the forest now a friend to Lyarra– no sounds could scare her.

Except the sound of swords.

She heard the clashing of metal one night, but she wasn't sure if she dreamt it, as it'd come so close to when she woke up then did not continue. The night after that had been the same– a dream so sudden, all she could manage to interpret was that brisk sound again. Decisive cuts, a sharp noise that sent a shiver down her spine.

But it didn't bring anyone her way. Men with swords didn't surround her, nor did she find one laying around. Perhaps her dreams didn't have as much meaning as Bran or Rickon's– perhaps her only magic came in giving life to plants.

She didn't know what to do against swords. If she could not talk her way out of something or shoot from a distance, what would she manage? Nana could be hurt by swords. The noise would make Minisa cry and give away their position. Swords scared her because they cut without leaving space for words.

"There, Nana," she told the wolf, Minisa wrapped to her chest by a long shawl that Maggy had left her with. "The Twins, up ahead! Look, there's a group of men exiting. The banners–" She squinted, "It's the direwolf! It's Robb, we must catch up to them!"

She started to run, the wolf bounding beside her. One of her hands wove over her head, trying to capture Robb's attention. The other hand held Minisa's head steady, the babe gurgling as she bounced, likely confused at what her mother was doing.

She skidded to a halt as the men in the lead became more visible. Her face fell. That didn't look like Robb. These men didn't look familiar at all– she didn't see anyone that reminded her of the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Cerwyns, or even the Glovers. Perhaps they were elsewhere? Perhaps these were houses of the Riverlands that'd joined Robb?

Nana began to growl, slinking back toward Lyarra. Too late, she realized she'd made a mistake– these men were heading for The Neck anyway. She should have waited in the brush for them to pass before making herself known.