As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, the warm glow intensified, casting a golden hue on the treetops and the faces of Lord Stark's party as they mingled with Lord Glover's, who had joined them halfway through the Wolfswood to lead his liege. The mingling of the two groups was a welcome respite from the long journey through the Wolfswood, and the sound of birdsong mixed with the lively chatter and laughter of the group as they busied themselves with preparations for the evening meal.
Eddard and Lord Glover were in deep conversation when a movement caught Eddard's eye. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the forest before turning to Lord Glover with a subtle teasing tone, "Looks like they've finally returned."
"Huh," Glover who was taking a swig of some hardy Northern ale looked in the direction Eddard was indicating. He scowled irritably as the hunting party emerged from the forest. "Not again," he muttered. "There has to be some kind of trick to this."
But Jon Snow, who led the party, was quick to retort, a smug grin on his face. "No trick, my lord. Just pure skill."
The hunting party consisted of two skilled hunters from Deepwoode Motte and two from Winterfell, accompanied by the two young boys. One was Jon Snow, and the other was Lawrence Snow, the bastard of Hornwood, a ward under Galbart Glover. The hands of the adults were filled with the game they had hunted consisting of a stag, a boar, and a rare moose.
"He was amazing, My Lord," Lawrence gushed in an awe-filled voice to Lord Glover, "He hunted one animal after another a-and he was able to pick up trails that none of our hunters were able to see and..."
The young ward went on and on, singing Jon's praises until Lord Glover interrupted him with a wave of his hand, rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine! You don't have to sing laurels of him anymore. I get it, he's a very good hunter."
The banter between the lord and his ward elicited laughter from the group. Despite being a bastard, Lawrence was very close to Lord Glover, and their relationship was a source of amusement for those around them. Lawrence sheepishly rubbed his head with a smile before making his way to the cook, who was skinning the game.
As Lawrence left, Jon approached the two lords with a huge smile on his face. Glover tried to avoid looking at his Liege's bastard, but Jon wasn't going to let him off the hook. In a leading tone, he said, "I think you have a gift for me, My Lord."
"Huh...Oh...Um...." Glover tried to feign ignorance, looking around as if searching for an excuse, before finally turning to Lord Stark for help. However, the Lord of Winterfell raised his hands in surrender and said, "Don't look at me, Galbart. I warned you not to bet against him. It's your own fault for not listening to me."
The smugness was evident in Lord Stark's typically stern expression, and the group couldn't help but chuckle at the scene before them.
Lord Glover hesitated for a moment, scrutinizing the faces of his liege and his liege's bastard, before grumbling, "Fine! Fine! Here take it, boy, I don't want people to say that I am a sore loser," he reluctantly passed a beautiful sleek Weirwood bow to Jon, who received it with reverence and eagerness. "Don't lose it, boy," he cautioned.
"Don't worry, My Lord," Jon said, bowing happily, "I'll take good care of it," Jon immediately took his leave and went to the side to try out his new bow. The longbow was a true masterpiece, crafted from Weirwood, and had the ability to shoot arrows so quickly and accurately that one would be struck before they could even spot the archer. Coupled with the short bow given to him by his teacher, Jon could now cover an even greater range.
As they watched Jon display his skills to the guards and hunters, Eddard turned to Lord Glover and asked, "You're not too upset about this, are you? If you are, perhaps I can try to persuade Jon..."
Lord Glover shook his head and took a swig of his ale. "Nah, forget it. He'll make better use of it than a tired old man like me. Besides, I got it from a Wildling raider, so it's not like I paid for it or anything. This will teach me not to underestimate kids in the future," he added, chuckling self-deprecatingly.
The story went somewhat like this, Lord Glover had heard stories about Jon's hunting prowess, so he asked Lord Stark to confirm them. Lord Stark not only verified Jon's prowess but also proclaimed him to be the best hunter in Winterfell.
Lord Glover was of course skeptical and expressed doubts and Jon who was nearby immediately saw an opportunity. Jon had fallen in love with Lord Glover's bow, so he suggested a bet that whoever hunted more and better prey over the following days before they left the forest would win and of course, the price would be the bow.
Lord Glover scoffed and said something like, "I've been hunting in this woods before I could crawl, Boy! There is no way I would lose to a wet behind-his-ears brat like you," They took turns hunting for every evening meal, and Lord Glover and his party grew increasingly dumbfounded as they watched Jon consistently bring in ridiculously large and rare prey. It was as if he no longer considered rabbits and deer they hunted as suitable prey at all.
"Don't worry, Galbart. You probably won't be the last one he swindles things out of," Lord Stark consoled him. Upon realizing that their destination was Bear Islands, where the proud Lady Mormont resided, Lord Glover burst into laughter.
They left the wolfswood the very next and arrived at the castle of Deepwood Motte. It was a wooden motte-and-bailey castle so while it was not particularly strong it worked for the people here.
The castle's long hall sat atop a hill with a flattened top, accompanied by a fifty-foot-high watchtower. Below the hill, there was a bailey that contained stables, paddocks, a smithy, a well, and a sheepfold. The castle's defence was meagre, consisting of a ditch, an earthen dike, and a palisade of logs. Deepwood's mossy outer walls were safeguarded by two square towers and wallwalks.
They spent only a night at Deepwood Motte before setting off towards the sea, which was only about five leagues away. Waiting for them there was a ship sent by the Mormonts to escort Lord Stark and his party to Bear Islands, Lady Mormont herself came on the ship, but she brought along the news that Ser Jorah had run away along with his southern wife in the middle of the night.
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