Post by J.Hollick on Dec 16, 2013 10:00:49 GMT -9
Another short fan fiction story based, yet again, in the world of Westeros.
"All rivers run south. All rivers run south."
The words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind, a low murmur escaping from trembling lips, words of knowledge passed from father to daughter as Sickle scrambled forward through the dark brush. The branches scratching and pulling at her, the ground rising and falling beneath her stumbling feet.
The creek she followed was only a step wide and ankle deep, not enough to hide her scent or cover her tracks. But Sickle knew it would eventually lead her to a larger river that could.
The forest all around her was dark, the night sky above was clear and the air around her was still and cold. As Sickle broke through the trees onto the river bank she allowed herself to sink into the icy waters.
Dunking her head she scrubbed her hair and skin, washing away dirt and grime and hopefully enough of her scent to throw off the hounds.
Pulling herself up the muddy bank she covered her boots with a thick layer of mud. Scooping up large handfuls she covered her hands and face.
Turning upriver she followed it northwards, rubbing her skin and clothes with a handful of pine.
Cold and shivering uncontrollably she reached a shallow ford. Somewhere off in the distance dogs were barking.
She searched the woods but saw no torches, no dark shadows moving. She began to wade across the ford, quick as she could. Her legs pressed against the icy waters that attempted to suck her downstream, her feet already numb as they pressed across the rocky bottom. She glanced back but all was still among the pines and spruces.
Unbeknownst to her eyes watched her from the trees, pale eyes in a pale face.
Ramsay Snow nudged Blood forward, emerging into the moonlight.
Sickle heard the splashing, saw the horse walking through the water but she was only halfway across the river and out in the open. She struggled waist deep against the flowing current as Ramsay gained on her. A sweet smile was on his face reaching from ear to ear with a triumphant gleam.
The hounds were crawling across the bank now, caught up with her scent. They barked and bayed as they charged through the water after their master and their prey.
Sickle could feel the ground rising beneath her, the water only knee deep now. But it was too late to run. Ramsay was behind her, his sword point pressed into her back between her shoulder blades. As he stabbed downwards she was forced to her knees with a cry of pain.
The Bastard of Bolton hopped lightly from his horse, sheathing his sword.
The hounds waited on the far side, whining with anticipation as the water pressed up against their chests.
"That was almost impressive Sickle. I dare say had you made it across the river you would have been free." His hand grabbed her hair, held her in place, her slender neck exposed. His other hand cupped one of her small breasts as he licked his lips. She swallowed, the icy water all around her, making her hands and legs go numb. On the far bank Yellow Dick was off his horse and wading through the water towards them, while still others awaited on horseback with flickering torches in their hands.
"Still. You put up a good fight, lasted longer than the others. I think I'll name a bitch after you."
Sickle was shaking, shivering. She had pissed herself but it had washed away instantly with the water.
She struggled against Ramsay but he only tightened his grip in her hair and gave her head a sharp yank backwards.
She clenched her jaw as he hauled her through the water back towards the other bank. Gasping and struggling as her head submerged and re-emerged into the night air. Yellow Dick followed behind, Blood's reins in his hand.
Ramsay kicked the hounds out of the way as he forced Sickle to her feet.
"Say hello to your father for me."
Thick blood cascaded down her neck as she gurgled and choked. The hounds brought her down quickly but her slit throat ended her before the hounds could. Ramsay watched from atop Blood's high back as the hounds feasted and fought amongst the shallows.
"Come boys. Let us go feast ourselves. This was a good show but it is time for the next. Reek awaits us at the Dreadfort."
Sickly gleaming smiles disappeared into the darkness as the remains of Sickle's body floated gently away."
"All rivers run south. All rivers run south."
The words were nothing more than a whisper on the wind, a low murmur escaping from trembling lips, words of knowledge passed from father to daughter as Sickle scrambled forward through the dark brush. The branches scratching and pulling at her, the ground rising and falling beneath her stumbling feet.
The creek she followed was only a step wide and ankle deep, not enough to hide her scent or cover her tracks. But Sickle knew it would eventually lead her to a larger river that could.
The forest all around her was dark, the night sky above was clear and the air around her was still and cold. As Sickle broke through the trees onto the river bank she allowed herself to sink into the icy waters.
Dunking her head she scrubbed her hair and skin, washing away dirt and grime and hopefully enough of her scent to throw off the hounds.
Pulling herself up the muddy bank she covered her boots with a thick layer of mud. Scooping up large handfuls she covered her hands and face.
Turning upriver she followed it northwards, rubbing her skin and clothes with a handful of pine.
Cold and shivering uncontrollably she reached a shallow ford. Somewhere off in the distance dogs were barking.
She searched the woods but saw no torches, no dark shadows moving. She began to wade across the ford, quick as she could. Her legs pressed against the icy waters that attempted to suck her downstream, her feet already numb as they pressed across the rocky bottom. She glanced back but all was still among the pines and spruces.
Unbeknownst to her eyes watched her from the trees, pale eyes in a pale face.
Ramsay Snow nudged Blood forward, emerging into the moonlight.
Sickle heard the splashing, saw the horse walking through the water but she was only halfway across the river and out in the open. She struggled waist deep against the flowing current as Ramsay gained on her. A sweet smile was on his face reaching from ear to ear with a triumphant gleam.
The hounds were crawling across the bank now, caught up with her scent. They barked and bayed as they charged through the water after their master and their prey.
Sickle could feel the ground rising beneath her, the water only knee deep now. But it was too late to run. Ramsay was behind her, his sword point pressed into her back between her shoulder blades. As he stabbed downwards she was forced to her knees with a cry of pain.
The Bastard of Bolton hopped lightly from his horse, sheathing his sword.
The hounds waited on the far side, whining with anticipation as the water pressed up against their chests.
"That was almost impressive Sickle. I dare say had you made it across the river you would have been free." His hand grabbed her hair, held her in place, her slender neck exposed. His other hand cupped one of her small breasts as he licked his lips. She swallowed, the icy water all around her, making her hands and legs go numb. On the far bank Yellow Dick was off his horse and wading through the water towards them, while still others awaited on horseback with flickering torches in their hands.
"Still. You put up a good fight, lasted longer than the others. I think I'll name a bitch after you."
Sickle was shaking, shivering. She had pissed herself but it had washed away instantly with the water.
She struggled against Ramsay but he only tightened his grip in her hair and gave her head a sharp yank backwards.
She clenched her jaw as he hauled her through the water back towards the other bank. Gasping and struggling as her head submerged and re-emerged into the night air. Yellow Dick followed behind, Blood's reins in his hand.
Ramsay kicked the hounds out of the way as he forced Sickle to her feet.
"Say hello to your father for me."
Thick blood cascaded down her neck as she gurgled and choked. The hounds brought her down quickly but her slit throat ended her before the hounds could. Ramsay watched from atop Blood's high back as the hounds feasted and fought amongst the shallows.
"Come boys. Let us go feast ourselves. This was a good show but it is time for the next. Reek awaits us at the Dreadfort."
Sickly gleaming smiles disappeared into the darkness as the remains of Sickle's body floated gently away."
