Carliene Stark

III Chapter 15

Carliene

They were all watching me. Not the men. Not the people, no, but the creatures. It was suffocating. I had forced Bran out again. He wanted to come to me in my dreams, I had felt it the last nights, but I locked myself away with the shame and the guilt. He would scold me, condemn me, or even worse he would tell me that my actions had been justified and that I had no reason to hate myself for them. I wanted to hear neither. I rather spend my nights hiding away in my mind and my days hiding away from the ravens and the trees, than looking my brother in the face. He had been there, he had seen everything. And I could not bare him ever looking at me again. 

Day by day I was getting closer to being reunited with my family, and yet, day by day I as losing them completely. Jon was no longer my brother. Mother had died at my own hand. And Bran was forced out and away. 

You have always been too selfish. 

Guilty. 

The ravens were the worst. Always following, always stalking. They lingered as dark shapes in the trees and bushes we passed or soared as small flocks through the clouds above. They never made a sound, never came too close. But I could feel that it was him. It nearly infuriated me. I was so distracted that I did no longer care for Theons blue face or Vals growing concern about the state of the Dothraki host. He was in the horses too. And the dogs. Not so consistently or fully, and never more than three or four at the time, but h used their ears. Their heightened senses. 

I began wondering if he had always been so close. If I had just never felt it before. 

But he was never in the wolves. They were still following us, had been for days and miles. I wasn't entirely certain how many of them there were, but somehow their stalking comforted me. And the knowledge that they had nothing to do with the disappearances calmed me. Maybe Nymeria will follow me home.

Someone else that I felt was stalking me were the red priests. Especially the red woman. I was trying to avoid them, I had decided that I was entirely done with everything and anything that had to do with their way of magic. But everyday without fail I would run into her, or catch her ember eyes on me. I don't know if it was because I had not visited their tent in a while, or if her Lord had told her something about the encounter I had with Thoros of Myr. The later though made me feel sick to my stomach. 

In the evening we were in Ser Jorah's tent, along with all the other commanding lords and knights. The subject was not very different from the days before: the weather, the cold, the upcoming marshlands, the supplies and resources, the sicknesses, the dothraki. At least there as no more mention of any disappearances or things going missing. Only the occasional worry for the wolves trailing us. I found my mind wandering quite a bit, and no one but Lady Lyra seemed to notice how little I was paying attention. So when she asked me to stay behind after the meeting was adjourned, I prepared myself for some sort of scolding. Instead she lead me outside, announcing that she needed to show me something. We didn't go far from the tent, when she stopped and pointed to a small group of people by the Mormont's hitched horses. There was a hand full of Unsullied guarding men I noticed instantly. 

"They came wandering into camp a couple of hours ago." Lyra informed me as we studied them from the distance. There were four of them, each one hand their hands bound with rope. The red priest was trying to talk with the Unsullied, but we were too far away to hear, while the large man with the yellow cloak looked around with a darkened expression. Behind him the two others were hidden from my view. "They are looking for you." she added

"Why." felling the despair and disappointment of realising that my hope of never having to see the likes of them was crushed. 

The large woman crossed her arms and turned to look at me instead of the captives. "I was hoping you could tell me. They tell quite the story. Especially the red one." he nodded into the direction of the priest. "The red wizard, I heard some of the men call him."