Wolves on the Road

"Elanor," he called after her and urged his gray mare forward, catching up to the woman covered in the fine furs of the north, riding alongside the Stark party. They were two days off from Winterfell, following the King’s road and still a day and half of hard march to the Long Lake and the hot bath awaiting them at the Howling Inn. He could almost picture it in his mind… but the chill of the wind brought him back to reality.

That and the cold glance from his wife. Sigh. Even frosts from the mountain peeks melt easier then Elanor of Fenn. Woman was almost as stubborn as a mule! And damned if he didn't love her more for it too.

"We should get ready to make do for a night," he continued, faking obliviousness to her annoyance. "There is a town about an hours ride ahead of us."

Elanor's jaw tensed for a moment as she tugged at the elegant furs protecting her from the bitter cold. They had shifted slightly in her riding, exposing a bit of her creamy flesh to the harsh elements. An icy gust of mountain air had slipped through her layers of protection, chilling her to the bone, or perhaps it was the sound of her husband's voice on the wind that made her shiver. It had that effect on her. She lifted her chin a little and rode on, telling herself her mind was playing tricks on her, and that the howling wind was calling to her in her husband's voice. If only it were true.

Lady Fenn Stark sighed, longing to be back home by the fire with her embroidery, watching over her beloved nephew playing with the toy sword he was so very fond of. She resented her husband for ordering her by his side while he rides off to participate in some brutish demonstration of apparent manliness. The tourney was no place for her. She could think of a dozen other things she could be doing that could help him in a more effective way. The household was quite enough to manage, and dear Rickon would surely miss his Auntie. No...Elanor was bound by duty and would spend the next little while as her beloved husband's accessory.

She had barely spoken to him since they left and wasn't planning on gracing him with her eloquence any time soon either. She would remain defiant. Icy and bitter as the whipping winds themselves. If she couldn't be home, at least they could escape the mountain terrain and its deathly chill sometime soon. Elsewhere, it was summer and in the cold of the North, but a dream. She couldn't wait to walk around in a light dress, her long dark hair cascading freely down her back and not hidden under a thick hood.

When Karlon finally caught up with her with the fake oblivion she had come to recognize and despise, Elanor simply lifted her chin and without even turning her expressionless face to address him, breathed a curt, terse, "As you wish, My Lord."