The wind roared, biting her fur as she tore through the icy storm. The worst part of the winter was upon them, and they had little protection against mother nature, let alone the enemy. How could they win? She frowned. Wasn't winter supposed to be her family's trademark? How could they possibly be losing? A storm of swords could be heard in the far off distance, indicating the battle had officially begun. This was it; her father's honor depended upon the outcome of this battle. She cringed. This day was nothing more than a simple clash of kings, and yet, so many lives could be destroyed; so many worlds turned upside down.
And she could do nothing to help, being the young, insignificant mare that she was. Shouts of fear, anger, and confusion fell into line with the clashing of the swords, and Arya knew that this was the beginning of the end. Would she ever be able to recover from this? Would any of them? She wanted to join her father in battle, help him, save them all but....she couldn't. She was too small, too weak, too powerless, to make an impact. And the knowledge of that hurt worse than she had anticipated.
From her hilltop she watched as they were picked off, one by one. Brothers scattered, children screamed, mothers and daughters left in the wake of disaster -- so she fled. Tears running down her cheeks, she did the only thing she knew how to do, and fled.
A groan.
Startled, the groan escaped her small frame as she woke up from the nightmare that had plagued her for many, many months. Even after all this time, her unconscious mind couldn't help but try and figure out a way she could have stopped it all from happening, and each time, the results seemed to be worse than the last. She blinked, temporarily unaware of her whereabouts, and it unnerved her. It was still dark -- a cave perhaps? -- and it was quiet, so danger did not lurk nearby. A quick peek behind her told the young mare that Nymeria was also safe, sleeping soundly for the first time since they left. Oh, well, that was good, she mused.
Another glance, and she saw the sleeping body of the stallion -- Yorick, who had helped her the night before. Ah, yes. The memory of the events from last night came flooding back, and it took all of her willpower not to want to run out of the cave that very instant. He had, after all, helped Nymeria recover from the cold, so the least she could do was wait until he woke up to thank him.
Psh, thank him. She was getting soft! Another groan escaped her as her mind traveled back to the nightmare only moments ago. It wouldn't go away, not unless she killed her way through the traitors and the murderers, seeking vengeance on all who participated. It was her destiny, and it started the day she left. Now, perhaps she'd...take it more seriously.
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