Ser Waldor Tully reared his mount and dismounted by a large oak. The warhorse was restless today, Waldor noticed. It was rare that the horse became frightened. Actually, now that he thought about it, he could think of none such instances that the warhorse had ever acted like this and Ser Waldor had owned this black stallion since his 13th name day. Waldor was an aged man now, well over 50 but he was as strong as someone half his age. The forest around him was also unusually quiet. Was this any other night, Ser Waldor wouldn't have been as restless as he was this night, but this particular night was not any other night for tonight was the Night of the Direwolf, when all the direwolves of the realm roamed the kingdom freely and hunted prey without fear. This day only occured once every three years, but to Walder the night seemed to stretch on for three years itself. Finally he mounted again and set at a brisk pace for south. If not for the stupid Baron, he would not even be here. He was nearly 30 leagues from his own city. Ser Waldor Tully was one the finest knights in the whole city. Waldor didn't understand why Lord Edmure, Baron of Vo Astur, would send the finest knight in the city to go chase down a band common thieves. He has caught the party some hours earlier, perhaps 15 leagues north. Before attacking, he had spied upon the 4 thieves from the cover of a nearby bush. The leader of the party was a middle aged man whom the men called 'One eye'. The man didn't seem to mind, and Waldor saw why. The man had a gaping hole where his right eye should have been, and he wasn't even wearing an eye patch or anything to cover it. Too poor perhaps, Waldor reflected. For a moment, the knight of Vo Astur nearly pitied the man. The pity, however, vanished in one tenth of a second as his eyes took in the scene behind the thieves. He saw a fair maid of about eighteen or nineteen tied to a tree, gagged and naked. Her clothes lay in a heap of rags beside the tree and by the look of them, they had been ripped off with some force. So the bastards didn't steal wealth, but a woman!, Waldor thought to himself. The woman's wet and empty eyes met his and hope filled them but she looked away, filled with shame. Suddenly Waldor realized that she was naked and he had been looking right at her. He turned red and retreated from the cover of the bush and walked swiftly back to where his horse was tied. He untied it and mounted, ready to attack the camp. Take them by surprise, he thought and did exactly that. They didn't see him and wouldn't have if not for the noisy hoofbeats of the warhouse. One of the younger thieves saw him and ran towards him like a madman but Waldor just rode him down. By now, the others had quickly scrambled up and grabbed any weapons they could find: a rusted sword, a broken axe and a large warhammer. Waldor wasn't scared of any of them. Maybe except the large warhammer, which was in the hands of One Eye, the leader. The fool with the broken axe tried to swing it into his horse's legs but Ser Tully drove his spear down through his head, almost lazily. He put his left foot on the falling thieve's head and pushed, pulling at the spear at the same time. It came free and the foolish thieve fell away, blood streaming from his mouth like water from a broken pipe. two to go, he thought wickedly. And then the boy with the rusted sword came, and swung it with full force into the neck of the warhouse. The blow was powerful but blindly aimed, and Waldor knocked aside the sword and it went flying from the boy. He ran but Waldor aimed and threw his spear at the boy. The point went through his back and emerged through his stomach, puncturing his lungs. From behind him, he heard a laugh. Before he could even turn, the arrow was through his heart and the tip of it clear in his vision. He fell from his horse and he saw One Eye. A bow was in his left hand. A quiver of arrows was strapped to his back. ''What kind of fool leaves his back open to the enemy, and at the same time wastes his weapon on a running target when the real trouble is behind him?''. He way right, Waldor realized. He opened his mouth to reply but all that came out was blood. One Eye roared with laughter. ''Look at me, half blind and weak from illness and I still manage to kill the finest knight in Vo Astur'', he spat on Waldor and added ''You have gotten old, Waldor''. He knew his name! He realized this was no ordinary thief. Before he could take another look at One Eye, the last of his life blood drained away. One Eye didn't bother picking up anything else except the arrow from Waldor's lifeless body. After all, arrows were valuable. He went to Waldor's warhorse, who had watched everything in silence, and mounted him. The horse didn't seem to mind what sat on him and so One Eye gave a tugged the reins and the warhorse galloped off to the north, with One Eye on top looking at the east. Dawn was at hand and the first rays of the sun shone on the land, a wolf howled somewhere in the forest. The Day of the Direwolf had ended, One Eye mused, and so will Mance Rayder's reign one day. He laughed. He realized some hours later that he had left the girl behind. They would find her and soon Rayder's dogs would be on his trial. But he didn't care. By the time they found her, he'd either be far north or the girl would be far dead of starvation. One Eye smiled. Even though the sun was out, that day was very chilly. Sometime after midday, it started to snow heavily. And after the snow, icy winds tore at him from the north but he rode on. He wanted to reach the Lair as soon possible. It continued to grow colder that day and the night was even more brutal, as One Eye had expected. He was deep into the north now and around him he saw frozen lakes and rivers around. He reached the Lair at midnight and for a moment stood outside, taking in the cold. He went to the large boulder that looked liek a normal boulder to any commoner. He rapped sharply on it three times and waited for one of the guardsmen of the Myst clan to bid him enter. A wind was blowing that made his hairs stand on end. Winter is coming, he thought gloomily.