Mara POV
The next morning, I woke up early, unlike everyone else still exhausted from the dancing and feasting yesternight. I changed quickly into my green hunting dress, shivering in the cold. It was still dark.
I went out to visit the direwolves. Apparently I wasn't the only one up early.
Jojen and Meera stood there side by side silently, without a trace of fear, as the direwolves approached. Meera whispered to Jojen, "Here they come. Did you know they would be so big?"
Jojen's gaze never wavered from the direwolves, "They will be bigger still before they are grown. The black one is full of fear and rage, but the gray is strong, stronger than he knows ... can you feel him, sister?"
Meera visibly swallowed and put her hand on the hilt of her knife, "Go careful, Jojen."
Jojen answered, "He won't hurt me. Today is not the day I die." He then walked forward, his cloak billowing in the wind, enveloped by the morning mist that swirled around in dying eddies still. Slowly, he reached out to to Summer's muzzle, lightly, delicately, just like a summer breeze. His eyes shifted to mine for the tiniest fraction of a second as if acknowledging my presence, then back again.
Meera had not seen me; she was still staring at the direwolf, tense and alert, ready to spring at any second.
I walked over. Jojen stepped back, and Meera immediately curtsied formally. I nodded to them, then kneeled down to pet the direwolves, who crowded around me affectionately.
Jojen's eyes were examining me the entire time; I could feel it.
Finally, he spoke, "You're special."
"You told me that yesternight," I said shortly.
"You share a special bond with your direwolf. You can warg into it," he continued, unruffled.
I was shocked. How did he know all this? "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've seen me in your dreams, haven't you?"
I tore my eyes away from his moss-colored eyes. "I don't know," I repeated stubbornly.
Of course I did. I remember him. In a dream I shared with Bran. Multiple times, actually.
Can I trust him?