Chapter 3
Podrick was freezing. The forest was streaked with slivers of whispish dawn light, not yet offering any relief from the terrible night-time cold. His pale fingers shook as he fastened the Brienne's armor.
"We will arrive today." She told the boy matter-of-factly. The words had the desired effect on Podrick, who looked like he might cry from delight.
"I didn't think I could stand this cold much longer," he admitted, smiling behind her as he snapped tight the fastenings at her shoulders.
"It is winter. There will be no short supply of cold where we're going."
"Tents, at least, m'lady."
She couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Podrick. At least tents." His sudden cheer was infectious, as if they weren't about to walk into a field full of terrified men trying not to lose their minds at the thought of the upcoming unfavorable battle. Not that the wildlings ever looked properly terrified, Brienne thought. She admired their courage and resolve, despite her distaste for their rough, undisciplined ways. She would feel better about their odds if at least the few men they did have were proper soldiers, trained followers familar with basic military strategies. The familiar sense of dread that always followed thoughts of the battle stirred her to action again. She stood up and moved so as to test that her armor was secure. "We're going, Pod."
The two hoisted themselves onto their horses and set off with a fresh sense of urgency, travelling for several hours before the woods started to thin and the first signs of nearby encampment showed themselves by way of newly chopped trees and sites of hunting victories. As they neared the edge of the forest, Brienne was growing more and more shaken by the alarming quiet. A short ride confirmed her fears as they reached the first field of empty tents.
The blood drained from Podrick's face. He had not taken seriously Brienne's suggestion that the battle may have already started. It didn't make sense. He looked at her fearfully. She was enraged.
"SANSA?" Brienne yelled hoarsely, her voice threatening hysteria. She slid gracelessly from her horse and started pulling open some of the larger tents. "SANSA!" Podrick trailed, holding both their horses by the reins, unable to say anything. He felt feeble and helpless, watching the knight search and yell with increasing desperation.
"She must be here, they would not have let her near the battle." Brienne marched down the row to the next lot of tents. "If she is not, then the worst has already happened. SANSA!" She couldn't stand it. Why had Jon decided to engage in battle so hastily? When it was still possible the Blackfish might come to their aid? Maybe they knew I had been sent on a fool's errand, she thought bitterly, trying not to dwell on how little regard they must have had for her survival if that was the case. No, lady Sansa must have believed I had a chance. Snow probably just doesn't listen to a word she says. She was a sweet, earnest girl. Brienne yelled her name through building sobs, cursing Jon Snow.
"M'lady!" Podrick yelped, reaching for his weapon. "A rider!"
Brienne was snapped out of her reaction by the sound of hooves, confirming Pod's claim. Boltons. Her hand slammed to the handle of her sword and pulled viciously, ready to let her rage rip into the next figure she saw. It turned out not to be necessary. The red priestess appeared from behind a row of tents, an eyebrow raised at their battle stances. "I came back when I heard shouts. We had just rode off."
Brienne, breathing heavily, dared to hope. "Is the lady Sansa alive? Have the others departed for battle?"
Melisandre gave the knight an amused but powerful smile. "The battle," she said, slowly, for effect, "is won. Jon Snow has reclaimed Winterfell. A soldier has just come to fetch myself and the young Lady Mormont. As for lady Stark, I am not sure. She rode off. Maybe to save herself. Maybe she had other plans." It was infuriating how the woman's expression suggested she knew more than she said. It was probably not the case.
Brienne sheathed Oathkeeper with angry force. She was completely taken aback by the news of the victory. Following a scuffle of hooves, a young northern soldier suddenly appeared behind Melisandre, flustered. "My lady, you just disapp-" he looked very surprised to see an emotional female knight and her confused-looking squire. Brienne saw a girl of about ten walk up behind him, dismounted. Fearless, she approached. "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, giving Brienne a steely look.
The two of them gaped, not having seen the confident high-born child before.
There was a pause. "The lady of house Mormont is adressing you." The soldier said pointedly.
Brienne bowed distractedly. "I am lady Brienne of Tarth, sworn to protect the lady Sansa Stark. We need to find her immediately, we - "
"If so, why were you not here, protecting her, at a time of battle?" the girl was sharp and unyielding. Brienne frowned at her slightly. Sounding affronted, she replied.
"The lady Sansa sent me on a personal mission to deliver a message to her uncle, the Blackfish."
"Lord Snow will soon discern whether you are telling the truth." The Lyanna Mormont turned her back and went to find her horse. Satisfied that his lady was done talking, the soldier turned to Brienne. "You need not worry. Lady Stark arrived at the scene of battle with one lord Petyr Baelish and the Knights of the Vale, of whom I suppose he had command. They are both currently at Winterfell with Lord Snow. We are heading there now, ride with us."
Brienne's lip trembled as her breath hitched. "I thank you for your information, good ser." She turned around as if to make for her horse, but emptied her stomach on the snow behind her instead, sick with relief.
"Are you alright, m'lady?" Podrick rushed to her, but she waved him aside, straightening herself.
"Fine, fine. We must ride right away." She stumbled towards her horse and leant against it for a moment before mounting.
Melisandre turned her horse around fluidly, eyes glazed in thought. "Who is this Lord Baelish?" she enquired. "I have not heard of him."
"A nobody who has risen from the dust. He married Lysa Arryn shortly before her death and now serves as the Protector of the Vale. He saved Sansa from King's Landing, abandoning his post on the king's small council, but then delivered her to the Boltons. He claims he was ignorant of the harm that would bring her." Brienne's mouth curled into a snarl. "Lord Renly and Lady Catelyn made it very clear that he was not a man to be trusted. Lady Sansa seems to be of the same mind."
The priestess cocked an eyebrow. "What a curious man. He moves in high circles for someone of low birth. Strange fortunes have befallen him. Not unlike myself. I wonder at his purpose in this world."
Brienne had no time for the red woman's mutterings. She led the trio out of the camp to join the skeptical lady Mormont and the young soldier, and they began their trek across the fields and past the gruesome battle carnage that lined their way to Winterfell.