The silver Stark man stayed low to the ground. Flashes of his family running through his head as he watched the lone buck just outside of the Hunting Grounds. It was sickly, wounded from combat as the breeding season. A broken leg. It reminded him of the Baratheon leader, wounded in battle by its woman. He shook his head as he thought of his brothers, so eager to prove something. His father was killed for treason, knowing the Baratheon sons were bastards and children of incest. Rob had wanted his family, but not his betrothed. So he married his beloved, and she carried his welps. But the betroth's father was not so happy, slaying them both. His mother was slain in that as well. Summer had not woken from his coma after falling from the mountains. Rickon was hunted down. He had not seen what had happened to Sansa or Nymeria, but he knew well enough that their chances of survival were slim.
He shook the thoughts from his head, hunger rumbling his stomach. He hadn't eaten since he arrived here. His body quickly moved to the wounded buck, taking it by surprise as he leapt onto its back and wrapped his jaws around its neck. With a jerk, he felt its neck snap. He fell to the ground with the bucks lifeless body. His icy eyes looked to a flash of light and smoke. As he picked his kill from the ground and dragged it out of the brush, he saw a dark formed wolf with wings and horns. A female, and she looked as hungry as he. With a sigh, he brought the kill over and set it down a good distance away from her. "Hungry?" He asked her, his eyes looking out to meet the womans own. "I'm not able to finish this all myself. I'm Ghost." He spoke, his icy eyes drifting to the kill. "I am the last survivor of House Stark."
Walk, "Talk", Think.
"my watch has ended."
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