'The dogs are not at fault.' Farlen knelt between a mastiff and his precious red bitch, a hand on each. 'The only thing those dogs are fit for is a bear baiting,' he said angrily.

That red bitch will sniff where they came out of the water and we'll be after them again.īut when they joined up with Farlen's party, one look at the kennelmaster's face smashed all of Theon's hopes to shards. The whole bloody north would rally around them. Men would fight for the honor of protecting them. They'd have mounts to speed them on their way, food. The people of the north would never deny Ned Stark's sons, Robb's brothers. Every passing hour increased the likelihood that they would make good their escape. It should not have been possible, not on foot, burdened with a cripple and a young child. Somehow Osha and the wretched boys were eluding him. It was midday when he wrenched Smiler's head round in disgust and gave up. He pressed on long after he knew he should turn back, a growing sense of anxiety gnawing at his belly. Past that oak, over that rise, past the next bend of the stream, we'll find something there. But of the direwolves there was no sign.Ī little farther, Theon told himself.

They saw the claw marks where a bear had shredded the bark of a tall birch. Wex surprised a vixen drinking at the stream, and Walder flushed three rabbits from the underbrush and managed to put an arrow in one. He spied the prints of deer, elk, and badger easily enough. Theon kept an eye out for tracks, spoor, broken branches, any hint as to where the direwolves might have left the water. The wolves might have come out on either bank. He and Wex rode on one side of the brook, Rednose and Walder Frey on the other, each with a pair of hounds. He took Wex, the Frey boy, and Gynir Rednose to search upstream.

A clash of kings graphic novel