MANO A MANO

As I trudged upstream, I couldn't help but feel like a lost puppy in a big, confusing world. The fading light within the woods told me it was around dusk, but without a watch, I was just guessing. The trouble is that my guessing skills were about as accurate as a weatherman's forecast.

All this time, I brooded over everything in my thoughts, and I finally realized that my mind was a tangled ball of yarn that even a cat would give up on.

Even the elements of this world seem to elude my understanding.

I mean, how could I have woken up in a snow-covered forest, only to find out it wasn't even winter yet? Sure, summer was almost over, but snow-covered trees were not yet a thing.

I guess one could argue that the North tended to have the worst weather even in the best of times, but that was not it.

In my head, I had only two theories to explain this madness:

One was that the white walkers had some serious control over the cold. They could, after all, bring in ice and create intense blizzards at will. I didn't know whether this power was only limited to the Night King. If it was, then the last explanation would have to be a system trick.

I mean, the system had already done things I couldn't even think were possible; what would stop it from freezing a forest? Honestly, at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if the system turned me into a talking squirrel.

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sudden neigh of a horse. It had been several hours since I had done away with the stallion I had used to escape, and I knew for certain that the noise could not come from him. He had to be many miles away already.

Those had to be the Winterfell tracking team.

"Damn it!" I cursed internally. I had thought the false track that I had laid would have them headed north by now. I hastily threw myself behind a nearby rock and held my breath.

For several agonizing minutes, the only sound I could discern was the pounding of my own heart. Doubt began to creep in, and I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me. But then, the unmistakable sound of a horse's neigh pierced the silence once more. This time, it was dangerously close to my hiding spot.

My heart raced faster than ever before, threatening to give me away with its deafening thuds. And then, as if on cue, the voices of men shattered the stillness. I knew I had to remain perfectly still and silent or risk being discovered.

I could now tell that the men had stopped, probably for a rest; this was because their conversation came from a fixed position down the slope.

With bated breath, I slowly reached and peered from the side of the rock, and the sight that met me almost had my heart frozen like a popsicle.

There were six mounted men, armed to the teeth and decked out in full armor. It looked like they were ready for a full-scale war.

'God, the king can't want me dead that badly, can he?' I swore inwardly. But even as I took in this, I knew that we were the ones being hunted, and the next words from one of the men confirmed it.

"Can't we just go back already? Both fugitives are headed north. The tracking team will have them by dawn."

There was a brief pause before another voice chimed in, "Yeah, I think we should head back for further instructions. I hear the king is leaving tomorrow, and guess what, mate?" A sigh of frustration followed before another man answered, "I am too tired to even mount a whore, you fool. Can't you just say it already?"

A sudden roar of laughter tore through the woods at these words. "Well, in that case, I will tell you, matey," the previous speaker answered. "The word is that Lord Stark has refused to be the king's hand."

"That is the north shield mate," one of the men yelled in joy.

The other soldiers let out a hearty cheer, indicating that they were not keen on their leader becoming the hand.

"He is a smart man; Lord Stark is; that title is a curse, and so is the capital." There was a murmur of agreement before the soldier who had given the news went on.

"The trouble is, now that Lord Stark won't take it, the only person the king is likely to name as his hand is a Lannister."

Even from the distance I was eavesdropping, I could hear the curses of angry voices.

"Bloody bastards, not those cunts!" I can barely stand one of them as a king's guard, let alone a king's hand", One soldier cursed before another one furiously took over. "Those bastards have their heads full already."

The one who had begun the conversation took over amidst a hot murmur of disagreements.

"The thing is that the king needs the Lannisters' gold to run the kingdom. the soldiers said before being furiously cut off by another.

"And the Lannisters are eying the iron throne; I dare say they might murder him before summer is gone."

The soldiers were clearly not happy with the situation, and who could blame them? If the Lannisters got their hands on the iron throne, most of the other kingdoms would definitely rebel.

"By the old gods!" If that happens, the seven kingdoms will go to war. Mark my words, matey." Another one bitterly swore.

I felt an intense surprise at the conversation I was hearing. So this is the extent to which things have been altered in Westeros? If Lord Stark had truly refused to be the hand of the king, it meant that most of the things in Game of Thrones, as I knew them, were certainly going to unfold differently.

But what gave me the biggest fear was hearing that the king was leaving Winterfell tomorrow.

This information made me realize that if I wanted to retrieve the saber, I only had tonight.

I was certain that if the king began to move, he would take it to the capital with him. I couldn't let that happen. I had to break into Winterfell fast.

The soldiers were still carrying on their conversation, but my thoughts were now in their own realm, a world where I strived to make genius plans (or rather, stupidly risky ones).

It occurred to me that the only way to enter Winterfell without any opposition was if they were expecting me. and the only way they would expect me was if I was one of the search parties.

I know there are major flaws in this plan. For one, where would I get a soldier's armor and a horse? I couldn't attack the soldiers who were here. Apart from the obvious fact that I was unarmed, that would be suicidal, not to say mental. They outnumbered me by far.

"Alright, lads, listen up!" boomed the commanding voice of the leader, cutting through the bickering. "We need to start heading back before the sun sets on our behinds.

As the murmurs began to fade, I watched from my hideout as soldiers mounted their steeds and prepared to ride off into the sunset. But there was one slowpoke left behind.

"Bloody hell, brothers," he exclaimed, "the gods may have blessed us with valor, but they cursed us with the need to take a dump. Go on ahead without me; I'll catch up with you all."

The response was thunderous, with one man bellowing out, "Be a brave soldier, mate!" as he trotted off after the rest of the gang. Another chimed in, "Remember, you carry the banners of House Stark!" from further up the path.

With a chuckle, the man watched as the last of his comrades rounded a bend and disappeared down the path ahead. Then, with a sigh, he unbuckled his sword and his helmet while singing a song that he must have made up, as I had never heard it on the show.

Your lion sigil may strike fear in some hearts.

But Winterfell's wolves will tear you apart.

Your fancy clothes and your fancy words,

Won't save you from our Northern hordes.

He began ascending toward the spot where I was hidden, and that is when I fully realized the opportunity that was before me. Indeed, I could not have taken the soldiers while they were together, but what was to stop me from facing a man who had just disarmed himself? I somehow had the upper hand, seeing that I was full of energy, unlike the soldier, who must be famished from a long day's search. This would be a man-to-man fight.

The man was halfway up the slope when he hastily looked around and, seeing no one, did away with his garment and proceeded to do his business. God, he must have had a serious case of a running stomach because the kind of rumbling that shattered the woods was immense. I had, however, stared away. Even a foe deserves some privacy and the fact that I was not planning on attacking him in that state for fear of tainting his clothes.

A sigh of relief a minute later alerted me that the man was done taking a dump; it was the perfect time to cut him off before he reached the weapons, and I was prepared to do that in style.

I, after all, had the advantage of many hours of binge-watching WWE style, and the particular one I was going to use was the Edge's primary finisher, The Spear.

The soldier began to turn around, zipping up his pants, when he saw me charging toward him. He quickly tried to dodge, but it was too late, as I had already lunged forward. With a force of a freight train, I tackled the man with a perfect Spear, sending both of us crashing and tumbling down the slope.

The soldier grunted in pain as he tried to get back up, but I was already on top of him.

Then I began dishing out blows to the man.

The guy must have had an iron skull because the first punch made me feel like I had just hit a damn rock. I swung a second punch to the man's left jaw, and he seemed to have finally come out of his daze.

My third blow was intercepted midway, and that is when I realized I was dealing with a man of immense strength. With a mighty heave, he threw me aside and quickly got to his feet.

He tried to dash for his weapons, but I cut his feet from beneath him. His stumble gave me a moment to stand, and I rushed forward to block the man's path. I wasn't letting him reach that sword.

The soldier had also realized that even without his sword, I was no match for him. But he was bloody wrong; there were no boxing studios in Westeros.

The soldier swung his fist at me, but I ducked and countered with a swift uppercut to his jaw. He stumbled back but quickly regained his footing and charged at me again. For a while, We exchanged blows, each landing with a sickening thud, until I began to see the world spinning too fast.

It was like a scene out of a Rocky movie, except instead of a cheering crowd, we had a horse as our only audience.

Damn it! I cursed under my breath. For a man with no boxing experience, this guy had given me quite a hell of a fight.'

We were now taking turns dishing out fists, each hoping for the other one to drop first.

However, I noted that the man's attacks were now sluggish. I guess it was luck or the fact that the man was famished, but either way, I was not complaining.

With one final punch, he went limp and dropped to the ground with a thud.

*immense sigh*

Breathless and exhausted, I stood up and looked down at the unconscious soldier. Despite the violence of our encounter, I couldn't help but feel a sense of respect for the man.

"No hard feelings, brother," I muttered as I began to undress him and tie him up with his rugged belt. "A man's gotta do what he's gotta do."

It took me a while to fit into the guise then I reached for the horse. I had a group to catch up with.

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