292 AC

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The early morning sun unraveled across Winterfell, the air still with no breeze or sound to disturb it. Then, a swift whistling. Thunk. An archer's target rippled with the impact of an arrow, a hair away from another. A second sharp whistle and another arrow joined the small clump, close to the bulls-eye. A young girl drew back the drawstring of a longbow until it was taut. She squinted at the empty center of the target, scrunching her nose in concentration and letting her fingers relax.

"Who's there?" 

Shock and fear gripped the girl, and in her distraction, the arrow slipped through her fingers. A man in fine clothes approached from the same direction as the voice. She stumbled backward in her too-big boots and her spine straightened, faltering in her courtesies for the clearly rich man.

"Boy! What are you—" the older man paused as he came closer, "Oh, forgive me." He crouched down by the girl, a soft smile on his lips, "Barely recognized you, Hilena." A wash of relief came over her as she finally recognized the man.

"It's fine, Lord Stark," the commoner muttered, fumbling with the bow as she dipped into an awkward curtsy.

"What are you doing out so early?" Lord Stark inquired, squinting at the sun low in the sky and then across to the archery target. "It looks like you've been at it for a while."

"The horses need feeding. Been here since dawn, m'lord," she answered, glancing over Ned's shoulder to avoid his kind yet questioning eyes. To her surprise, there was a boy behind Lord Stark. She must have not seen him. Oh, is that Robb? Must be. 

The boy stood still and glanced at his feet when he caught the commoner's gaze. His auburn mop of hair fell into his face, which he brushed away with a hesitant hand.

Lord Stark walked to the target and grinned, "You're quite talented. How old are you now?"

"Ten m'lord," Hilena responded. Lord Eddard took the arrows out of the target, his smile softening.

"You're the same age as my son, Robb." Hilena glanced over again at the Stark boy, who grinned crookedly at her. She returned a timid grin, out of courtesy more than anything.

"You know well you cannot use this range," Ned Stark stated, dropping the collected arrows into a quiver on the ground. Hilena flushed in embarrassment, prepared to be scolded or worse. "Especially without permission." The lord paused in front of her, looking down at the bow she held, "Yet, I cannot ignore skill. Keep the bow, you may shoot it here at the range whenever it is free. Now go along, your father will worry."

Lord Stark patted her on the back and smiled tenderly again. Hilena gulped in surprise, then nodded anxiously.

"Thank you, m'lord. I'll use them well." The girl bowed. "Thank you, m'lord."

Still scared, Hilena spun around and strode away from the Starks, bow affectionately held in her hands. It was odd that he was being kind to her, so kind to just a girl, never mind someone of her peasant status. The commoner paused, gazing down at her new possession. She glanced back, worried the rich man would change his mind and accost her.

"Come, Robb, you have expectations to meet," Lord Stark laughed, clasping his son's shoulder. The words brought a small joy to Hilena's heart, and she hid a smile before anyone could see.



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When Hilena woke on the dawn of a summer day, she had not expected a snowy scene beyond her dirty window. The flakes tumbled down heavily, coating the Winter Town in a woolen blanket. Hilena smiled to herself. Summer snows. The girl had lived through the summer snows, and even been born during a winter. Snow is an old friend and a good one.

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