This was the end. Everyone in the caravan was dead, buried under the cold blanket of snow. Their blood colored the pristine whiteness of the mountain for only a few moments until the snow covered up any trace of violence that ended the life of the men and women from Horngul. Ysabel had been a part of the caravan as one of the swords paid to ward away any threat to the safety of the merchants transporting finished products of Horngul to Castamere. There were five of them mercenaries, who had a contract with the caravan, but after encountering four hungry wargs in the middle of a snow storm, all four of her long time friends were dead leaving only her as the sole survivor. 

Ysabel shuddered, but she knew it had nothing to do with the cold. She just couldn’t believe how quickly she had lost four of the people she trusted the most – Elred, Symond, Cilia and Gyles. Yet she kept on willing her feet to move one step ahead of the other. There was no time to grieve. 

Still, the storm persisted. The wind howled and the snow threatened to bury every living being foolish enough to be on the mountain pass. Her lips were cracked and it didn’t help that a warg’s sharp paw had torn her cloak and dug deep into the flesh of her upper left arm. It would heal eventually. She was surprised it hadn’t healed yet and blamed it on her lack of anything to eat in the past day after the caravan attack occured. Ysabel pulled her heavy cloak tighter around her. She had to at least find shelter. 

It was not her first time crossing that path and on a day with moderate snowfall, she could have found markers indicating her position on the pass, but not in that kind of weather. This had to be the end for her. She might have survived the wargs, but the storm proved to be a more lethal enemy than any of those creatures’ fangs. She had a sword strapped to her back and daggers on her belt, which she thought to use to end the miserable cold, but whether it was cowardice or stubbornness, her feet kept moving one step ahead of the other. 

Hours passed and the cold amplified her hunger. She felt as if her strength was wearing thin, but she kept on moving for the sake of those who could no longer move. Then, as if the gods could still hear pleas, not far ahead she thought she saw figures moving. She closed her eyes and shook her head, but when she opened them again, the heavy cloaks were still moving ahead. Ysabel’s hopes soared. Shouting would do little because of the wind and her distance from them, but they might be kind enough to let her share the fire they would eventually build and a little of the food they carried with them. Therefore, she decided to blindly follow them.