When the Snows Fall and the White Winds Blow
When the Snows Fall and the White Winds Blow
WHEN THE SNOWS FALL AND THE WHITE WINDS BLOW
LUHAN was born with a full count. It was no fault of his, only the freak gene that had turned his eyes a bloodred and his hair a white the color of new fallen snow.
The world is a cruel place for a wolf without a pack, a fact Luhan soon learned. His mother had nudged him out of the safety of her den as soon as she saw the telltale red of his eyes, but not before he had grown strong on the milk she later reserved for her other pups. Theirs had been a big litter, seven pups, and the weak would soon die anyway.
But Luhan had been born in summer, and in the end that was the fact that had saved him. Desperation breeds vicious killers, and Luhan was quicker than most pups. He learned to slip into his human skin not long after he had caught his first piece of prey, and no one could turn away such a beautiful young boy from their doorsteps, not in summer.
He learned to fend for himself, shying away from the company of other direwolves and humans alike. The only thread of trust he had ever had was broken from the very moment he was abandoned by his mother. Later, when he was grown, he fiercely defended the territory he had carved out for himself, choosing the solitude of a life in the forest over interaction with others. (He’s always preferred the taste of fresh meat to the tough, cooked variety humans prefer anyway.)
But Luhan was a summer child, in one of the longest summers the Seven Kingdoms has ever known. And as the maesters have always said, after the longest summer comes an even longer winter.
And even Luhan knows that when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.
…
Luhan doesn’t know why he spends so much time in his human skin, when he only has need of his wolf skin. He hasn’t eaten human food since he was a pup, and he’s always been able to scare off the occasional farmer boy that wanders into his territory, without resorting to a human face.
He’s barefoot with his eerily white hair is cropped short to his ears, his summer coat. He wears roughspun clothing stolen from an unfortunate traveler and he walks with the careful gait of a hunter. Even though he knows this area well, he cannot bring himself to relax.
He stops suddenly as his ears pick up the sound of hoofbeats coming from behind him. He turns just in time to see a messenger galloping over the rutted dirt road. The messenger reins up a few feet from Luhan, panting.
“You live here, boy?” he grunts, eyeing Luhan’s wiry frame. If Luhan were in his wolf skin, he would be bristling at the man’s tone of voice, his hackles raised and his teeth bared.
“No sir,” he grits out instead, wondering if the man is alone.
“Well, you better get back home,” the man replies. “War’s coming to these parts, and the game of thrones ain’t never been a quick one.”
With that, he gallops off, and Luhan slips into his wolf skin, racing after him.
Home, he thinks bitterly.
…
Luhan had only planned to walk around town, looking at all the colorful wares and perhaps getting himself some of those spirits humans are so fond of. But the messenger’s words piqued his interest, and now he intends to find out just how the war will affect his solitary existence.
He arrives in the town minutes after the messenger, and changes back into the clothing clutched in his jaws. This area is near the Narrow Sea, and it’s not unusual to see strangely colored men around these parts, Lyseni pirates and Braavosi swords. Luhan fits right in, though he is decidedly distinct.
“Quiet,” he whispers into the ear of a passing merchant, his fingers threatening on the fragile curve of the man’s neck. “How much money do you have?”
He can smell the man’s fear through the sickeningly sweet perfume he wears, can feel the violent trembling of his entire body.
“I-I am b-but a poor m-merchant, sir,” the man stutters. “P-please, I have a family--”
“How much?” Luhan insists, his voice sharp. He tugs on the man’s cloak and it falls away, revealing expensive clothing. His hands twist, preparing to snap the man’s neck. “How much?”
It turns out to be one gold dragon, five silver stags, and a handful of pennies. The merchant throws his purse at Luhan’s feet as he flees into the night, Luhan slipping into the shadows before the man can see his face.
It’s enough for a few drinks and the conversation that comes along with it. He pulls the hood of the merchant’s cloak low over his face so no one can see his eyes.
…
“There are wolves all over town tonight,” a man mutters to his friend. Luhan his head in interest, taking a sip of his wine.
“Yes,” his friend agrees. “Them Starks’ll be wanting to know whether they can count on Lord Arryn’s allegiance.”
Luhan relaxes. The sigil of the Stark family is the direwolf, for all the good that’s ever done him. His stomach growls at the thought, reminding himself that he hasn’t eaten in a day.
“Lord Arryn is loyal to the king,” the first man says. “The Starks won’t be getting no traitors with us.”
“With any luck, we’ll stay out of this bloody war altogether. Summer’s lasted long enough, and before we know it winter will be here.”
“Won’t no allegiance be of any use then.”
The men chug the rest of their beers and disperse into the night, clapping each other’s backs in farewell.
Luhan beckons to the bartender for another drink, tossing the money down on the counter. So the Arryns plan to stay neutral. He wonders if he would be safer behind the protection of the Mountains of the Moon, or if, come winter, there will be more prey in the heat of battle. A beast’s life is always dictated by the availability of prey, and Luhan’s is no different.
The bell of the door jingles as another customer enters. Luhan is hit with the musk of the forest and male pheromones, warning off any competitors. A chill runs down his spine and he resists the urge to turn. With any luck, the other wolf will be scared off by his own scent.
“I’ll have some ale,” a voice next to him rasps. No such luck. Luhan is torn between fear of confrontation and pride, preventing him from running away.
He takes another nervous sip of his wine. Wolves never fight in the midst of humans, he reassures himself.
Minutes pass, and the newcomer finishes his ale, pays, and leaves. Luhan lets out the breath he was holding and stands up as well. He needs to hunt to get his mind off of what has happened today.
…
The moon is full tonight, and Luhan wonders if the heart-wrenching howl he hears now is from the wolf in the tavern. No matter. He’s going back to the mountains, where the winds are colder and remind him more of his homeland in the north, where he is little disturbed by either travelers or other wolves.
He weaves through forests and homesteads on his way back west to the mountains. It took him nearly a day to travel the distance on foot, but he likes the feeling of sunlight on his human neck. Now, in his wolf skin, he will reach his territory just as the sun rises, in time to hunt the animals just waking from sleep. The ground flies underneath his paws as his legs eat up the distance, but he’s not tired, not when the moon is full and the thrill of the hunt is coursing through his veins.
He loses track of how far he runs, but he knows he’s returned to his territory when he smells himself in the air. He smells something else--meat. The deer is dead before it even knows that has happened, and Luhan can smell that it is old and sick, explaining why it is out here alone.
The blood and flesh is hot in his mouth, fresh and alive, and he quite literally wolfs it down, tearing at the haunches so blood speckles his white coat. This is what it means to be alive, he thinks, his head clouded with wine and bloodlust. Before long, all that is left are the parts of no use to him. Vultures and crows will eat the remains soon, before Luhan ever sees the corpse again. For now, hunger sated, he will survey the rest of his territory and sleep awhile until he feels ready to hunt again. He is prowling through the underbrush, sniffing at the trees, when he senses it.
Someone else is here.
Luhan bares his teeth, growling at the air around him to warn the other wolf off. The sun is just beginning to rise and soon the shadows will disperse, allowing Luhan to find the intruder.
He growls again, his jaws snapping together with a click and his teeth still red with blood. He is used to confrontations like this, and he is not afraid, not when his stomach is full and he is still king of the forest.
But the sun comes up and Luhan finds not one, but two, three, four, eleven other wolves. He wonders how they hid their scents from him but then he realizes that he was distracted by the scent of blood and meat. With a start, he realizes that the entire pack is male. It’s unusual for so many to survive together, without being fragmented by infighting.
Their leader is a huge wolf with fur as black as coal. When he looks up, Luhan realizes that he has red eyes. The wolves behind him have a variety of colors; the one right behind the leader has soft brown fur and one even has a yellow pelt the color of sand. There are too many for him to fight, which is too many for a simple hunting party. Luhan wonders what they want with him. He slowly backs up, retreating so a thick oak covers his back. He growls again, uselessly.
Quite suddenly, the leader transforms, his human form revealing itself. Luhan examines the hard muscle rippling on his shoulders and chest. Even with them, the wolf’s human form will have a hard time defending itself against Luhan’s wolf form. He wonders if he should take the chance to attack, but before he can decide the leader speaks.
“It’s a nice territory you have here,” he notes. Luhan recognizes his voice from the bar. “Surprised you’ve defended it this long.”
Luhan doesn’t respond. If this is a trick to get him into his human skin, it won’t work.
“You know,” the leader continues, “winter is coming, and war with it. Soon these lands will be hard and hungry, and you will have a hard time defending this territory by yourself. There is prey to the west, in the riverlands, where there is war. A pack will help you find human flesh. You can’t enjoy hunting the old and the weak.”
He gestures to the dead deer lying off to the side.
“Join us.”
Luhan snarls. He doesn’t believe it. Why would they want him, of all wolves? Besides, why would he even want to be part of their pack?
The leader grins, as if he’s not surprised. “Don’t believe me, do you?”
Another wolf stalks forward from the pack. His coat is reddish brown and he is much smaller than the first wolf, perhaps only a little bit bigger than Luhan himself. His eyes give away a certain youth and Luhan thinks that he can win this fight.
“Kai?” the leader asks. “What are you doing?”
Kai fixates the leader with a pointed look and continues forward. Luhan doesn’t want to attack because it will give the others an excuse to attack as well, but he supposes he will have to if the other wolf makes the first move.
That’s what happens when Kai leaps forward suddenly, his front paws extended neatly in front of him as he bares his teeth. Luhan reacts immediately, jaws barely missing Kai’s neck as he lands on top of Luhan, and they both tumble to the ground. Claws slash and teeth snap, further bloodying Luhan’s fur and Kai’s as well. Luhan is frantic trying to get back onto his feet because he knows that staying down means death in the wild. He springs away as soon as he recovers his balance. The adrenaline heightens each of his senses and he tosses his head about, preparing for the second attack.
It never comes. Luhan is confused, watching Kai’s limp form on the ground. He decides that his jaws had really gotten Kai’s neck after all, so he pounces, one paw landing on each side of Kai’s neck as his hind legs pin Kai’s body to the ground and he opens his jaws wide. He leans forward, ready to deliver the killing blow, but Kai doesn’t struggle. His neck is bared in the ultimate act of submission, allowing Luhan access to the vulnerable skin of his jugular.
Luhan hesitates. The fear of betrayal is heavy in the back of his mind, but the fear of a death alone is greater. Winter is coming, and when winter comes, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. He closes his jaws around Kai’s neck, stopping just short of snapping them closed and killing the other wolf.
Kai barely flinches, and suddenly they are sitting side by side and Kai is the blood from Luhan’s coat, Luhan nuzzling into the comforting warmth of Kai’s fur. The leader is a wolf again, and he gives a sharp bark that signals the rest to leave. Luhan is among them, running behind Kai as they race over the mountains to the riverlands. A single wolf is strong, but a pack is stronger, and less lonely. Luhan has found his.
Winter is coming.
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