Smoke on the Marsh

Levi came back to his home.

He didn't sleep. The wind howled through the bog reeds like a warning.

He stayed up sharpening sticks with a dull knife, lining them against the wall outside Mae's hut. It was pitiful, really. But he needed something. Anything.

As the first light of dawn broke over the marshes, Levi heard something. Not wind. Not birds. Voices. Too many. Too loud.

He stepped outside, blinking into the pale morning fog. From the edge of Bogwater, where the trees broke, came the clatter of feet. Then shouts. Men. Armed.

Then the screaming started. So did the horns.

"Raiders!" someone yelled from the edge of the village. "They want silver and women!"

Panic swept like fire across the village. Children cried. Doors slammed. Mae, already outside, shouted to those nearby, "Get inside! Now! Bring the little ones!"

Levi's heart slammed in his chest. He turned to the cluster of men near the hearth, some guards, some just hunters with bows and knives.

"Archers! Take high ground—roofs, wagons, anything! Aim for the ones without armor!" Levi shouted. "Any man with a spear, form in threes! Don't fight alone! men with pitchforks to the front!"

No one asked why he was giving orders. The chaos didn't allow for questions.

Harwin, already bloodied, gave Levi a hard nod. "Let's hope they're not seasoned killers."

Levi gripped the dagger Lysa gave him. It felt absurdly small.

Then they came.

Ten. Fifteen. Maybe more. Dirty, angry men with rusted blades and cracked shields, some with armor, most without. They charged through the reeds with snarls like dogs.

Arrows whistled. Three raiders dropped. The rest didn't stop.

A man went for Mae's hut. Levi ran. Screaming. He tackled him from behind, driving his dagger up into the man's neck. The man's blood was hot, slick. Levi wanted to puke.

Another grabbed Levi's shoulder and slammed a blade down. Levi twisted. Too slow. The knife sank into his arm. He screamed, even as his own dagger found the man's gut.

Pain didn't register. Just heat. Red. Roaring.

The man drew back for another stab but his eyes bulged. A spearhead burst from his chest.

Harwin. "Get up, lad! Fight's not done yet!"

Levi staggered to his feet. Mud clung to his knees. Around them, villagers fought like wolves backed into a corner. One raider fell to a pitchfork. Another screamed as a hunter's arrow pierced his thigh.

But it wasn't clean. Not easy. One of the village boys fell. Then another.

Levi tried to call out, but his throat was raw.

Then a sound split the air.

A horn.

The villagers paused. Raiders froze. Fear shifted in both directions.

"More?!" Levi gasped. "We're barely standing!"

Out of the trees came the pounding of hooves. Men on horses. Armor that glinted with a damp sheen. Banners.

A wolf.

The Stark sigil.

Knights charged, spears lowered. Raiders tried to run. Some were caught. Others vanished into the swamp.

The fight was over.