Arya rides into Town

Fishing

Arya braced herself as she plunged into the river, expecting her fragile body to smash against the wickedly sharp rocks and be broken forever. Cold water engulfed her, forcing the air from her lungs as she sank below the surface. But the hard crash against the rocks never came.

Gathering herself, Arya struck out for the surface with powerful strokes before breaking through and gasping for oxygen. Despite only being underwater for a few seconds, the current already had her in its grasp, tugging Arya along the bank and forcing her to push out with her legs to keep herself from the rocks. Once passed the wall she made for the shore. Only the current was too strong and continued sucking her back towards the central part of the river.

Taking a deep lungful of air, as much to try and quell the onset of panic as to give her strength, Arya kicked out again. Instead of trying to cut across the river, she attempted to use the current and simply push herself sideways, little by little. But as much she found herself edging toward safety, the unpredictable flow of the river kept her from being able to grasp anything on the grassy banks she could use to haul herself free. And with her body already exhausted from the rocky descent, it began to reach the point it was all Arya could do to prevent herself from being sucked under the water.

As she struggled against despair, Arya felt something grab the back of her tunic. Moments later, the edge of a boat smacked the side of her body as powerful arms yanked her from the water. Fearing capture, as soon as Arya was deposited in the hull of the small wooden boat, she tried to scramble to her feet and face her potential attackers.

"Wow there lassie, or you'll tip the boat."

An arm wrapped around her legs, steadying her, as an old bearded man with a weather-beaten face sat in the middle of the boat and took up a pair of oars. There were boxes by the man's booted feet. Arya could see it held half a dozen silver-scaled fish piled and ready for gutting. Letting the other figure sit her back in the hull of the boat the smell of fish wafted over her, reminding Arya of the docks at Braavos where she'd once tried to sell sea produce.

"We'll get you safely back, don't you worry." The rowing man winked as he began to strain on the oars.

"You better get low." Arya was pushed down. As she curled among the ropes and the rods at the front of the boat, she glanced up to see the other person in the vessel was an adolescent male sporting his first wisps of facial fuzz. "The soldiers are spooked, but we can get you safe."

Arya nodded.

"It would be best when we get you to shore, and you never came back to these parts again." The man muttered as he strained against the river's current after turning the boat around. Arya knew that as a fisherman he'd know all the parts of the river where the flow would be the weakest, allowing him to guide the vessel swiftly up or down the river. "Especially with another sacrifice tonight. If the Lord takes one look at a pretty lassie like you, he'll have you himself before he gives you to the Lord of light."

Arya shivered in the bottom of the damp hull. Her limbs felt so weak, it was a tempting thought to flee the town and await extra help. But the raven she'd sent the previous morning would take days to summon any aid, and it appeared they were preparing for another horrific night of sacrifices. A situation Arya suspected had been made worse by her actions.

"There's going to be another sacrifice tonight?" She asked.

"The Lord's thugs have been rampaging through the town all morning." The man shook his head, and Arya wasn't sure if the redness on his face was through the effort of rowing or anger because of what was happening in the town. "Before I set off with Jim here, a pronouncement commanding the whole town to the castle tonight to witness the glory of the Lord of light had been made. To witness the power. I think he's got something special planned. He wants to teach us all a lesson for last night. A foolish thing. Didn't they realise what would happen?"

Arya swallowed. "Some people want to fight back. The sacrifices won't stop if the people stand by and do nothing."

"We are fisherfolk and woodsmen, not warriors," the man snorted. "We don't know how to fight, those that did went off to face the army of the dead. Most of them never came back."

"Like Luke." The younger boy said.

"Aye, like Luke."

"Who was Luke?" Arya asked.

"Jim's brother," the man nodded at the boy, not letting up on the powerful strokes propelling them along the river. "My nephews. Since their father was drowned going out in his boat with a bellyful of ale. His sons were just wee bairns, and I've helped their mum look after. Well, there's just Jim and me now."

"Luke learned to use a bow, so he could shoot the Night King." Jim sat a little straighter as he talked about his brother. "I can shoot a bow." He leaned down to Arya. "I want to fight against the Lord, but Uncle won't let me."

"Because all it brings is greater misery." There was a scowl on the old man's face.

"He killed my mother." Jim rose and faced his Uncle.

"I know lad, I know."

"They burned her. Burned her like the others." Tears choked Jim's words and Arya reach out a damp hand, placing it on his knee as the young man sat back down.

"And you think she wants her last son to throw away his life on a lost cause?" The man's voice was stern but not as harsh as before. "I promised to protect you and that I will. Keeping you alive means keeping you out of trouble. Out of the town's trouble. As long as we can fish, we'll be alright. Keep ourselves to ourselves and the Lord's thugs will leave us alone."

"If you don't care, then why did you pluck me out of the water?"

"Can't let a wee lassie drown now can I?"

"And taking me back into town?" Arya gave the Uncle a quizzical look, which the older man ignored.

"If you're daft enough to get involved, then that's your business. If those folk are daft enough to want help, then that's their business. "

"Can you get me to the Inn?"

"We'll get you there lassie." The older man's tone was grim. "But I'm not sure how much of a welcome you'll get. Throw those sacks over her Jim. Keep her out of sight. We're getting close to the town now, and I sense the nasty bastards poking about."

The stink of fish guts intensified as daylight was obscured by the rough brown sacks tossed over her, and once again Arya found herself depending on others to hide her existence. She could almost hear Bran's despairing voice at the impetuous nature of her intervention. The disapproval of the danger she'd put herself and others in. Of course, he would be right, which was why she had to do everything in her power to set things straight.

And she was going to kill the bastard who used innocent folk as his path to the Lord of Light.