Maege I
The forest was alive with silence.
She laid perfectly still in the dense undergrowth, a shadow given form and purpose.
Her boots had sunk slightly into the damp moss and black earth, but she had placed them with care so as not to make a sound.
The Bear Islands in spring was a treacherous, beautiful beast, thick with ancient pines whose needles dripped constantly, tangled roots that could trip the unwary, and low-hanging branches heavy with moisture.
Every leaf and needle seemed to drink the mist that clung stubbornly to the air, swallowing footsteps, breaths, and even the occasional snap of a twig.
It was the kind of forest that turned hunters into ghosts and left prey blissfully unaware until it was far too late.
She liked it that way.
Her breath came slow and steady, the way her mother had taught her long before she could even hold a spear properly.
In. Hold. Out.
The rhythm kept her heart calm and her hands steady on the longbow resting across her lap.
A quiver of arrows hung at her hip, fletched with sleek raven feathers that blended beautifully with the shadows.
Behind her, two of her daughters waited with the same quiet grace, Dacey and Alysane, each already a She-Bear in her own right, though neither yet carried the full crushing weight of Bear Island on her shoulders.
Their faces were smeared with mud to mask their scent, many southern ladies would have recoiled in disgust at the sight, she was sure but it was simply thought practical.
She raised a hand, signaling her daughters to hold position. Then she crouched lower behind a fallen log covered in slick green moss, peering through a narrow gap in the ferns.
There.
In a small clearing some sixty yards away, bathed in a rare shaft of watery sunlight piercing the canopy, stood a massive black bear. It was a monstrous creature, easily eight feet tall if it reared up, with a glossy coat that shimmered like wet stone under the light.
The bear was feeding on the carcass of a young elk, its powerful jaws tearing through hide and muscle with wet, crunching sounds that carried faintly through the damp air. Blood stained its snout and massive forepaws.
Maege's breath remained perfectly even.
In. Hold. Out.
"Remember, Stark," she whispered, barely loud enough for the girl beside her to hear.
The drizzling rain filtering through the trees helped muffle her voice. "The moment the arrow leaves your bow, it will know exactly where we are. I have no wish to be mauled this early in the morning. Be precise."
The wild little She-Wolf nodded sharply, her grey eyes narrowed in concentration.
She slowly drew her breath, raising her bow with careful, deliberate movements.
"Do not think," Dacey murmured from Arya's other side. "Feel the wind. You'll know the moment when it comes."
Arya nocked her arrow, fingers gripping the string. There was no pull yet.
Maege's hands rested lightly on the axes at her waist, ready. Dacey had her spear.
But the shot never came.
The great black bear suddenly lifted its massive head from its kill. Its black ears perked up high, nostrils flaring as it tested the wind. Its eyes roamed the tree line with surprising caution.
Maege reached out and gently gripped Arya's wrist, lowering the bow before the girl could loose. Arya arched her brows in silent question.
Alysane pointed silently toward the far edge of the clearing.
Shadows emerged from the dark layers of the trees.
One… two… three… four.
Four in total. A smaller black bear, still larger than any of them, emerged first, followed by three small, fuzzy cubs nipping playfully at their mother's thick fur as they trailed behind her.
Maege's grip on her axes loosened. She signaled the hunting party to step back slowly.
"We leave," she ordered quietly.
Arya looked visibly dissatisfied, but she obeyed without protest. Better to return to Winterfell with all her bones intact than in a coffin.
---
She sat on a fallen log with her youngest daughter suckling contentedly at her breast.
The fur cloak was off her shoulders, the mud washed from her face.
"You can stop staring, girl," She grunted without looking up. "You'll have them in a few summers too."
Arya immediately looked away, her face flushing a deep red. She let out a dry, rumbling chuckle that shook her chest.
"I do not think I will be having children that soon, my lady," Arya replied, though her eyes traitorously drifted back.
"She meant the teats," Dacey said helpfully from where she was sharpening her spear.
"I meant the teats," Maege confirmed with a grin.
The mother and daughter shared a hearty laugh while Arya stood there, face burning with embarrassment.
"Lady Stark," She said, her tone shifting into something more formal now that she was addressing her ward rather than a fellow huntress. "Do you understand why we had to retreat?"
Arya straightened immediately, her stance becoming more rigid and proper.
'Good,' She thought. 'The girl has learnt something.'
"There were two of them, my lady," Arya answered carefully. "And cubs. It must have been too much for us."
She tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. A brittle edge of mock-outrage entered her voice. "Come again, my lady? Too much for us? I alone would have skinned them where they stood!"
"She would have," Dacey agreed solemnly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.
She set Lyanna down gently and leaned forward. "We did not kill the bears because they had cubs. Kill the male, and the she-bear must hunt alone, leaving the cubs unprotected. Kill the she-bear, and the cubs die before summer's end. With no bears, the cod in the streams grow too plentiful and bold, which invites even more bears closer to the villages. So we do not kill them. Do you understand, my lady?"
"I do," Arya nodded.
"And she does not like to be mauled early in the morning," Dacey added with a grin.
"I most certainly do not," Maege agreed heartily.
The chamber door creaked open. Her maester stepped inside, carrying a sealed parchment.
"My lady," he said, bowing slightly. "A letter from Lord Stark."
She took the letter, passing the now-sleeping Lyanna to Dacey, who cooed softly to the babe. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly. A long breath escaped her.
"You have been summoned back to Winterfell, Lady Arya," she said, handing the parchment over. "It seems you are expecting royal company soon enough."
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A/N: This is more of a filler chapter, I know.