I hear voices and names. The names are Jared and Aris and something else I cannot understand. Some horses ran through the copse behind me at a blistering pace.
The fatigue of my journey is weighing heavily on my hanches. What if I do make it to Westeros? How would I even begin to fit on the Iron Throne? I have heard that Tyrion's father met a bitter end on another kind of throne. The pictures I see of that seat are a bit daunting. It looks like it is made of swords and knives. The better to avoid the seat of power, methinks.
I look off into the distance. Memories flood back of my childhood as a young calf. The children of Winterfell were kind to me and treated me as a sort of pet. They never gave the impression that they looked at me as future dinner. Maybe they were hiding this from me, but I do not think so. I can see through the mean nature in most humans. It is something in their eyes.
I will carry on because I must. It is my destiny. Life is calling me to another place, another time.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 4:46pm on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author