Translate   11 years ago

Nice Doggy I padded cautiously out of the woods. I venture into the village. It's the hour of the wolf, the hour of my cousins. I should be safe now more than any time. The sky is as black as the Lannisters hearts. The stars sparkle like Arya's eyes when she laughed. The#moonis as pure and innocent as Sansa is. I slink down the streets, staying alert and my guard is up. A dog snarls at me. It's just a mutt. I stick my muzzle in the air and stalk on. I realise just how much like Lady I must look when I do that. She was the regal, queen like one. Ladylike, which is why she was named Lady. I suppose I've always had that quality, I've just never known I had it, or bothered to use it. I've always been a free spirit. I love rain and snow and mud, rolling down grassy hills and getting my fur stained. "Whas' there?" A man's voice calls. I can't see him, but I can hear that he's drunk. And I hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed. I feel scared, then I remember that I wasn't scared of Prince Joffrey's sword, and I step forward where he can see me. "Ah, it's just a nice doggy!" He laughs. He must be completely ruined. I bare my teeth and snarl. He laughs at me, pointing his sword right at me. Men should know better than to threaten a direwolf. To be fair, no direwolves have been seen for thousands of years, how could anyone know what to do and not do around them? And he thinks I'm a common dog. I advance on him, snarling and snapping. He seems to register that I'm not playing around. He retreats a few metres. "Nice doggy!" He says. "Nice doggy!" This pushes me over the line for some reason. I run at him, I leap and pin him to the ground. He struggles, trying to push me off, which is pointless because I'm much stronger than him. I sink my teeth into his throat and tear. It's over instantly. I leave him lying there. Those dogs will probably eat him when they wake. I walk on. Snow is starting to fall around me, settling on me and melting into my fur. I tilt my head back and let the flakes land on my tongue. The melted snow washes my nose clean of the man's blood. Hopefully the next blood on my tongue will be Cersei Lannister's. Don't get me wrong, I'm not violent, I just want to protect what's left of my family. And getting rid of Cersei will do that. Joffrey's gone, Jaime only has one hand, his sword hand, so he can't defend himself anyway. I break into a run, and I leave the village, back into the familiar surroundings of the woods. I need to hunt. Within seconds, I have caught a deer, and nothing remains of it. I decide to head for Winterfell. There's always a Stark in Winterfell, Lord Eddard used to say. It's my best chance of finding one of the children I loved to play with. Love from, Nymeria

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