fireyfreewoman
Her throat burned against the icy cold air as she ran, sucking in gasps of air. Her shoes were not right for the snow and she only had the clothes that she wore, which was not nearly enough for the harsh bite of the cold. Her blood might have been built for the North, but she thought for sure she was going to freeze to her death in the woods of the North. How far north she was, she wasn't sure, she'd run from Baelish and the Eyrie and she'd just kept running. At least dying here meant dying free and not as a prisoner to Joffery, or the Lannisters, or Littlefinger. There was no one here that wanted her for what her blood could give them. There was only her and the snow, the way it should have always been. The way the Starks were meant to live and die. It would be her last honor on her House.
The crunching of snow screamed out to the young wolf that she was not as alone as she'd hoped. Too tired to run anymore, she ducked with a flattened back against the nearest tree. The sound of the wind at her cloak made it impossible to know where the footfalls were coming from and her clapped a hand over her mouth in the hopes that her breath would not give her away. A few moments passed before Sansa chanced a look around the tree to an empty clearing. She watched for a few long moments before she decided to make a run for it. Her feet pounded into the snow, her legs tired from the endless running. As she threw her head back to scan for the threat she'd heard behind her, she saw nothing. She breathed a little easier as she turned forward, only to feel her insides freeze just as icy as she felt on the outside. Just ahead of her was fiery red hair and wild eyes. Wild eyes that had already spotted her. Sansa swallowed.
A wildling.
