Ned Stark — Something Is Wrong
Arya came back to Winterfell before breakfast—
dirty, wild-eyed, leaves in her hair, but unharmed.
To everyone else, she looked like Arya being Arya.
To her father…
something felt off.
Ned Stark had learned to trust the quiet voice inside him—
the same voice that had saved him in war more times than he could count.
And when Arya darted past him with a guilty look, that voice whispered:
Something happened.
Something she's hiding.
At the Edge of the Wolfswood
When the fuss in the courtyard settled, Ned followed her trail.
He did not bring guards.
He did not bring Catelyn.
He was Lord of Winterfell.
And he knew the North better than any living man.
He tracked silently, examining each sign:
A broken twig.
A scuffed bootprint.
Small, hurried steps.
Arya's steps.
He sighed.
"You ran far, little one…"
But then—
He found something that should not exist.
Footprints That Don't Belong
Next to Arya's light steps was another set.
Large.
Deep.
Made by a man with enormous weight or strength.
Not a Northman's boot.
Not a sellsword's heel.
Not a ranger's stride.
Something different.
Something foreign.
Something dangerous.
Ned crouched, brushing his fingers through the disturbed snow.
"These prints are fresh. Very fresh."
And then—
A massive indentation in the forest floor.
A bear's pawprint.
Fresh blood.
Broken branches.
A violent struggle.
Ned's jaw tightened.
"Arya… what did you walk into?"
A Dead Bear
He followed the marks deeper into the trees.
And then he saw it:
A huge brown bear lying dead—
throat crushed, ribs cracked inward, jaw shattered as if something had ripped it apart.
No weapons.
No arrows.
No burns.
Just raw, impossible strength.
Ned's breath caught.
No human could do this.
No human should be able to.
He knelt beside the beast, studying the ruin of its skull, the strange indent where something metal—something unbelievably hard—had struck it.
A ripple of unease ran through him.
"Whoever killed this bear… saved Arya."
He realized.
"But the manner of the killing…"
He rose, hand resting on Ice's pommel.
"There is a stranger in these woods."
Footprints Leading to… a Camp?
He continued following the prints—
one large set, one small set.
And then they split.
Arya's tracks turned back toward Winterfell.
The stranger's tracks continued deeper.
Leading east.
Not wandering.
Not hunting.
Heading toward… something.
Then Ned saw it.
Wood chips.
Ashes.
Recent footprints circling the same area.
A camp.
A hidden one.
Freshly used.
Ned's brows drew together.
"Whoever you are… you're close."
Ned Returns to Winterfell
He walked back in silence.
His mind racing.
Arya safe.
But lying.
A stranger strong enough to kill a bear with bare hands.
And skilled enough to hide a camp the Night's Watch would have missed.
A foreign name whispered in taverns:
"The Shadow."
Ned had dismissed it as rumors.
But no longer.
When he returned to the courtyard, Arya ran to him, hugging him impulsively.
She never did that.
She was guilty.
And terrified he had found out.
Ned knelt to her height.
"Arya," he said gently, but firmly.
"What happened in the forest?"
Her breath caught.
For a heartbeat, he thought she would break.
But Arya Stark was her father's daughter.
She shook her head.
"Nothing, Father."
A lie.
A small one.
A dangerous one.
Ned kissed her forehead.
"Very well. But stay close to the castle."
Then he stood, eyes cold as ice.
"Because there is someone in these woods."
Ned Stark's Decision
That night, Ned summoned only Ser Rodrik Cassel.
No guards.
No ravens.
No panic.
Just two old wolves speaking quietly.
"Rodrik," Ned said, voice low,
"a man is living in our woods. A man of immense strength."
Rodrik frowned.
"The same one who gave Jon Snow that strange sword?"
Ned nodded.
"Find him."
Rodrik paused.
"And if he does not want to be found?"
Ned answered without hesitation:
"Then I will speak to him myself."
Meanwhile… at Leo's Camp
Leo stopped cutting wood.
He froze.
His camp was quiet.
Too quiet.
He felt it:
Someone had been near.
Someone experienced.
Someone dangerous.
He inhaled deeply.
Then cursed under his breath.
"Damn it. Ned Stark found the tracks."
He packed quickly, preparing to move the camp.
But then—
A small figure stepped out of the trees.
Hair wild.
Face flushed.
Breathing hard from running.
Arya.
She looked terrified—not of him, but for him.
"Leo," she whispered,
"my father… he's looking for you."
Leo closed his eyes.
Of course he was.
Everything was starting earlier than expected.
The story had changed.
The timeline had shifted.
Winter was coming faster than before.
He opened his eyes and whispered:
"Then I must decide…
whether to hide from Ned Stark—
or meet him."