Strange black hair woman
Gods be good!"
Seven days after the falling star had blazed over Winterfell and thirty-five leagues of hard riding behind them, Lord Stark and his party came to the spot where the star fell to earth. Riding through the wolfswood in the direction the crofters had pointed them, they first noticed when the light started shining a little more strongly through the dense canopy. Looking up, they could see the tops of the tallest trees had broken and fallen down to the forest floor, almost like a giant had come and plucked them like summer flowers. The trail of damage continued on into the forest, the trees growing shorter and shorter along a straight line.
They came at last to a great trough a dozen yards or more across, covered with the smashed remains of ancient fir and spruce trees mixed with ploughed earth. The trough plunged on deeper into the wolfswood, carving an arrow-straight scar into the forest as far as Jon could see.
"I can see why the crofters didn't want to go further," his brother Robb said, looking down the path. "The star came down almost right on their heads. I'm surprised there wasn't a fire." Jon looked around at the destruction.
"There was," he said. "Look at the trees still standing." He pointed at a white fir marked with bare branches and ugly black scars on its trunk. "It looks like the trees near the edge were scorched by the heat."
"Good eye, Jon," Robb replied. "So the star came down behind us, touched earth here and kept going that way," he pointed down the long cut. "It had to stop eventually, right?"
"You don't know that," the Cassell countered. "It might have just skipped back out of the wood, like a flat stone on a pond." Jon stifled a disbelieving snort. Really, Jory? Do you believe that or are you just being contrary for fun? Robb didn't bother hiding his skepticism.
"I'm... fairly certain that falling stars don't act like skipped rocks, Jory," he said.
"Oh, and you've seen how many falling stars?"
"Enough," Lord Stark said quietly but firmly. "We'll continue down the trail a while longer. If the end isn't in sight by the time we start losing daylight we'll return to the crofter village or set up camp." Robb and Jory glanced at each other and nodded.
The wolfswood was silent. The tall straight trees loomed over them as they followed the trail of splinters and churned soil deeper into the forest, scorched trunks and bare branches marking the fallen star's passage. The only light came from the slot carved by the star, leaving the trees beyond cloaked in dappled shadows. Jon could hear the rustling of small animals along the edge of the path, and sometimes a faint bird call from somewhere beyond the blackened trees, but the wolfswood seemed to swallow all sounds save those made by the party.
"By the old, the new ," Cassell complained, "where in the hells did this damned thing stop? We've been at this track for an hour and still no sign of it!"
"Patience, Jory," his father cautioned, and Cassell had the decency to look abashed.
"Forgive me, my lord. I just... I wasn't expecting such a chase from an inanimate object," Jory replied. Jon and Robb chuckled. Just then a pair of scouts returned to the party, riding hard.
"My lord," the lead scout reported breathlessly, "there's a clearing up ahead, looks like, and signs of a fire from a distance."
Jon looked thoughtful. "It can't be the star, else the whole wood would be ablaze by now." Are we not the first to follow the track?
"Looks like a campfire from the smoke, my lord," the scout said to his lord father.
"Not the crofters, they wouldn't have lied to our faces," Robb said.
"Oh they might have about anything else," Theon said cynically. "But they were too scared of the star to seek it out. Bandits, perhaps? Using the star as a way to mask their presence?"
"Whatever it is," Lord Stark said with finality, "we will go and find out. Carefully now, no swords drawn until I give the word, is that understood?" Jon nodded weakly and fingered the hilt of his blade nervously. If he had to draw his sword today it would be the first time he'd ever done it outside of practice bouts. But he's just a nine name days old boy, is he's skills with a sword would be useful?
Carefully the party crept up along to the end
ge of the clearing. As they drew near, they could hear the faint sounds of music coming from the clearing. "Not exactly hiding, if they're bandits," Robb muttered as they drew close to the forest's edge. The tall dark trees gave way to a carpet of green heath and wildflowers covering the earth in great rolling mounds. They could see the smoke from the singer's fire more clearly now, and at the center of the clearing was something the likes of which none had ever seen before.
A single small Ball shape of silvery-white metal in a large big hole, maybe it's created by its impact.
Jon's mind whirled and the realization hit him like an arrow to the forehead. "That's the falling star!" he blurted. Jory scoffed quietly, but without much heat.
"We won't learn more from here," Lord Stark said. "Let us go and see this falling star." The party formed up around their lords and rode out into the clearing. As they grew nearer the singing grew louder. It wasn't a song that Jon knew, and he felt like he knew most of the songs in Westeros, or at least all the songs people cared about.
He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy one and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept a memory
The melody was strange, the words were stranger but the voice kept on singing without a care. So someone is already came here before them, The party rounded the keeping a good distance from the falling star as a caution. Opposite them the singer had lit a fire, a haunch of venison roasting merrily in the flames. Sitting against a great mound of furs the singer strummed an oversized lute. She seemed to be familiar looking, or near-as, Pale white of face and dark hair than most northmen and dressed in a tunic of fine black cloth and seems expansive enough that a small folk can't afford it. Her eyes were closed and she apparently took no note of the party as her song continued.
"Wolves asleep amidst the trees
Bats all a swaying in the breeze
But one soul lies anxious wide awake
Fearing no* manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths
For your dolly Polly sleep has flown
Don't dare let her tremble alone
For the witcher, heartless, cold
Paid in coin of gold
He comes he'll go leave naught behind
But heartache and woe
Deep, deep woe
Birds* are silent for the night
Cows turned in as daylight dies
But one soul lies anxious wide awake
Fearing no* manner of ghouls, hags and wraiths
My dear dolly Polly shut your eyes
Lie still, lie silent, utter no cries
As the witcher, brave and bold
Paid in coin of gold
He'll chop and slice you
Cut and dice you
Eat you up whole
Eat you whole
Now he walks in quiet solitude, the forest and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself, to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake.....
..
..
She was, as far as Jon could see, the most beautiful woman in the world.
The closer they got to singer, the more it seemed to Jon that the mound of furs she rested against wasn't made of multiple hides. The moment the party got within five yards of the fire the pile grunted and shifted, revealing a massive head that peered at them through the flames. The woman's singing broke off and she peered at them through the flames. The flames glinted off panes of her purple eyes she wore on her face, and Jon could see the tiniest hint of brilliant glow from the reflection of fire.
The giant wolf's head growled at them, and Lord Stark pulled up short. The men swallowed oaths at the sight of a wolf the size of the lord's charger growling at them. "Gods be good," Robb said under his breath, "that's a direwolf." Jon only nodded, his throat suddenly gone dry.
The singer seemed not to notice their shock, only putting her hand against the direwolf's jaw. "Easy, Linda," she soothed. "Let's not start anything with the kids here." The direwolf grumbled and laid its head back down, adjusting position so Lord Stark and his men could see that the direwolf was in fact direwolf. The singer got to her feet—she's very tall Jon noted absently—and turned to face them, a small smile on her face fading quickly into plain and open confusion as she studied them.
"Er," she said gracefully. "Um. Well. Hello there"
But Lord Stark did not replied to the woman because he seems to be in frozen state.
Not because of the fear of direwolf, it's because of the strange woman in black dress.
And some of the old man at arms also seems recognized the strange beautiful woman.
From his mouth Warden of The North released a single word.
"Lyanna"....