[Chapter Size: 3700 Words.]
Third Person POV
North, 92 AC.
Two years later, somewhere in the Tallhart territory.
The cart moved slowly along the uneven dirt road, getting closer and closer to the small village.
A man kept the horses on the road as he followed the path. The journey seemed peaceful, as they expected to arrive at the small village before noon.
"Look, father! A Northern Elk!" a childish voice shouted beside him.
He quickly heard the sound of bushes being crushed and saw, more than a hundred meters away, the small creature begin to flee with swift, bounding steps. His son's childish shout had startled the elk more than the horse pulling the cart and them.
His gaze shifted to the side, seeing the boy staring at the spot where the elk had disappeared, clearly disappointed.
"He ran away..." he said, dejectedly.
The little boy, son of Garren — the man driving the cart — was Jon... Garren sighed as he saw his son like that.
They were traveling along the road toward the small village near their home. They were going to trade some hunting supplies with the local villagers, since the village was close to the main roads that led to White Harbor and even to Winterfell, with merchants always passing through.
Jon, his son, had had a troubled and strange birth two years ago. Born in the middle of a storm and beneath a heart tree. The storm had gone away when he cried for the first time in this world, the boy had always been special. Garren had always known that. The glow of that tree had marked him. Rowena, his wife and Jon's mother, knew it as well.
That same tree in the middle of nowhere had been searched for by his brother some time later, but he said he had never managed to find it when he returned along the same path.
It was as if the tree had ceased to exist. Even Garren had traveled there once, after mocking his brother, and tried to search for the tree. But he had never found it either. It was as if it had completely disappeared, even after hours searching in that region.
"You scared him, Jon..." Garren said, looking at the boy with a small smile.
Jon was wrapped in a cloak, sitting beside him at the front of the cart, clutching the fabric as he watched the elk disappear into the forest, still pouting slightly.
"Ah, that's not fair. They're never afraid of me at home!" Jon said.
His father laughed when he heard that.
"I know that, son. We know you get along extremely well with animals. However, you shouting from far away and them seeing our cart... obviously they're going to run away. No animal would stay still with us moving so close to them," his father explained.
The boy nodded after a moment of reluctance, understanding that.
Garren did not stop looking at his son for a moment before turning his attention back to the road, attentive to the path.
Suddenly, Jon pointed excitedly toward the trees. "There! A Snowy Owl!"
His father lifted his eyes to the tops of the trees, but could not see anything.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Of course, father! It's there, look... behind that strange tree!" the boy said, excited.
His father still could not see it, but there was an owl sleeping inside a hollow in the tree, unconcerned about a human finding its nest. Garren could not see it, but Jon saw it clearly. The man simply shrugged, thinking his son was seeing things, unable to share the same vision as Jon.
"There! A Snow Hare!" the boy shouted the next moment, seeing the animal quickly cross the road, far from them.
"You're good at spotting animals, Jon. You will certainly be a great hunter when you grow up," Garren said proudly.
The boy clapped his hands, laughing and having fun.
He also could not help thinking about the strange things that had begun to happen since they had brought the boy home.
To begin with, Rowena had improved almost miraculously after the birth. There had been no complications, something rare among common folk, since there were no maesters as in the castles of the great lords. The village women helped one another, and problems often arose. Infant mortality was high in the North, and many children and women died days after giving birth.
Jon had been born a month earlier than expected, which usually meant an early death. That was what almost always happened when a baby came into the world before completing nine moons.
However, he had not only been born healthy, but Rowena had also recovered perfectly. She had no complications. Garren thanked the gods for that.
Not to mention that his wife had not only survived childbirth and remained strong enough to raise Jon, but she also seemed, in some way, different.
She had grown very connected to animals. Jon had already shown this habit from a very young age. As soon as he began to explore the house and even the outside, the boy had always been curious, laughing with a childish tone that made Rowena completely melt.
Since Rowena had begun taking him outside — with them living not too far from the village, yet still close to the forests, with a small yard and a modest field — Jon constantly searched for animals. He and Rowena were sometimes able to attract one close in an almost strange way, all kinds of forest animals, deer, rabbits, and birds. The animals that were skittish around others were always approaching those two.
But when Garren tried to approach them at that moment, the animals would flee. Jon would grow sad, and Rowena would even become angry with her husband.
"You're scaring them away!" she would complain, cutting short the precious moment with their son.
Garren always insisted that he did nothing, that he only approached slowly. Even so, somehow, the animals seemed to feel more at ease only with the two of them.
Rowena also never fell ill again. She used to catch winter colds and fevers every winter, and once she had nearly died because of it. When Jon turned six months old, winter came and lasted an entire year. Even so, Rowena remained perfectly healthy.
Even Sarra, Roman's wife and Garren's sister-in-law, fell ill that winter. And it was Rowena herself who helped care for her until she recovered.
Jon also, somehow, never got sick. He was an energetic boy, complained about many things, but never fell ill, never seriously hurt himself and, when he did get injured, the wounds did not last long.
Rowena seemed worried about that.
Once, Jon had scraped his knee outside the house while learning to run for the first time beyond their door, in the yard near the fields. He fell and cried, complaining about the stinging he felt in his knee.
Rowena took care of him and made a bandage with cloth. However, when she went to change the bandage the next day, his knee was perfectly fine, as if it had never been injured. The boy said the pain did not bother him anymore and seemed happy about it, but unable to say what had happened. He said he was just glad that it had healed from one day to the next.
That worried Garren a little. He clearly understood that it was not normal. But nothing about Jon was very normal.
It was not only an unusual resistance to illness or a quick recovery from injuries. The boy learned far too quickly.
At nine months he was already shouting "father" and "mother" with a childish happiness that left Garren and Rowena quite surprised. Rowena found it incredibly adorable, and at first told them not to worry, crushing Jon in tight embraces.
But the true astonishment came when, after a year and a half — right after winter ended — Jon began speaking words here and there, forming sentences in little time. Before long, he was already able to form speeches, depending on his mood, talking about his likes and dislikes.
Sarra always praised Jon for being so intelligent. She even considered taking him to a northern castle and commenting on his intelligence. Perhaps some noble would take interest and send him to the Citadel, where scholars study. That would give him a better future than plowing the fields.
But Rowena refused. "Maesters have no family. I want Jon to decide that for himself," she said firmly. "No matter how intelligent he is, I wish for him to have his own family."
Garren agreed with his wife.
Since then, they had lived as best they could, paying their taxes and leading a quiet life in the small village, without drawing anyone's attention.
Life was not easy, but it was not bad either. Garren found happiness in his wife and his son.
He kept listening to Jon pointing out each animal he saw in the forest. The boy was quick and sharp at identifying them, almost as if he sensed them even before his eyes could see them.
At least, he would never have trouble with hunting. And his family would always have meat to roast.
Thus, they continued for another hundred meters, since it was a kilometer from Garren's house to the village. The cart finally reached the small village. As they entered, some people immediately recognized them.
"Garren! Tell me you brought good things... We're in need of meat! And you brought your cub!" one of the men said, greeting him.
"Stop that cart immediately!" A woman approached wearing a winter cloak.
Garren obeyed, laughing. He already knew what she wanted, and it was good that her husband was nearby, coming to join them, because Garren was just about to head to their house.
"Let me see the boy," she said, approaching Jon, who watched her curiously with his intense green eyes.
"Oh, my God... it's been two weeks since I've seen such beautiful eyes." she said playfully.
Her husband approached, laughing loudly. He was the village butcher.
"Well, it seems you brought things." He glanced over the cart and returned his attention to them. Especially to the boy his wife was admiring. "Have I ever told you this child is far too handsome to be your son?" the man asked, laughing beside his wife.
"Don't say that, Owen," the woman murmured to her husband, while the other two men there laughed and greeted each other.
"Look at this child," the bearded man pointed again. "I'd say he's a lost prince of the North! I'm telling you, he doesn't look like Garren's son. Look at the father, look at the child... he's not that child's father!" he said, roaring with laughter.
The boy was silent, listening to the man's booming voice, and grew irritated by that — how dared he say that his father was not his father!
"Silence! You have no proof of what you're saying. He is my father!" the child replied, standing up bravely before the man who was much bigger than him and shouting.
The man looked at that with curiosity before beginning to laugh even harder. "He certainly has his father's temperament, Garren. Knows how to defend what is his."
Garren was not offended by his friend's joke, because Jon truly was extremely handsome, with an appearance one would call princely. Even at two years of name, it was already possible to see the difference between him and the other children around. Even Rowena — the most beautiful woman in Garren's life — knew that Jon's appearance was, in some way, even more striking than hers.
"Well, my son knows how to defend his family... I'm proud of that, Jon." Garren said with a smile.
"Really?!" The boy turned his attention back to his father at that, setting aside his anger toward the man before him as he waited for praise from his father.
"That's good, very good, boy," the butcher said, nodding his head while watching Jon.
Jon was popular in the village, and it was not hard to imagine that he would be even more so anywhere else. He was much more handsome than the other children his age, extremely intelligent and even sharp-tongued, knowing how to retort with words one would not normally expect from someone so young.
At times, he spoke so well that it seemed he was conversing directly with a maester or even a noble.
Despite that, he never stopped behaving like a child. He was innocent, curious, lively, and happy. There were things he liked very much, and others that Garren and Rowena had to forbid him from doing. He was impatient and reckless many times. Sometimes he would get angry, and then he had to listen to a scolding from his father while crying in a corner, but Garren had to be firm with him.
But he and Rowena deeply loved their son, after everything they had lived through and seeing Jon grow, it was hard to say they did not love him.
"Alright, alright, let's finish this quickly. It's good that you're waiting for me at the front of the village. But we have to go to your house to deliver the pelts," Garren said, interrupting before more people came to greet them. They were also members of the village, since they lived less than a ten-minute walk from there.
Thus, Garren continued guiding the horses until he reached the medieval village butcher shop. He stopped the cart, got down, and picked Jon up in his arms, setting him on the ground before tying the horses and beginning to unload the goods.
Jon circled the cart, sometimes running around the village area, but not going too far, only watching the other children — the villagers' sons and daughters — playing or walking around.
The village had about sixty houses, and around two hundred people lived there.
The adults continued greeting Jon's father and also looked at him with curiosity, always commenting on how beautiful his eyes were and how quickly the boy was growing.
He always drew attention, and sometimes he grew shy because of it, trying not to stray too far from his father. Even so, his curiosity led him a little farther before returning to where Garren was negotiating with the butcher, who had brought some carcasses he had hunted in the forest in his cart.
"Alright. We can give you grains and even a bit of milk that I got at the market," the butcher said after negotiating.
"That's good. Rowena loves milk, and in these first months of pregnancy she has been craving it quite a lot," Garren replied, satisfied. "But I will also want the pelts intact. I will use them for the child that is coming."
Rowena was pregnant again, four months along. Soon, Jon would have a little sibling, and he was quite happy about it. Sarra and Roman also had a daughter, one year of name, with whom Jon always stayed when they visited their house or when they came to his.
Unlike Rowena, Sarra had had some problems during childbirth, but she had recovered well after some difficulties. Since then, Jon even helped take care of his cousin, whom her parents had named Mara.
"Alright, alright," said the butcher. "I'll prepare the cut in a few days and try to sell it soon. There will be a merchant heading to Winterfell. I'll prepare coarse salt to preserve the meat and sell some to the people in the village as well."
While the butcher spoke, Garren continued negotiating, and Jon remained there, watching the two grown men in silence.
When they finished, Jon returned to the cart with his father, and they followed the road back. Soon, the boy resumed his little game of identifying animals.
Garren let his son play his little game, until suddenly Jon began tapping his arm near their house, making him look at him, trying to understand what was happening.
"Father, we must stop," Jon said, in an urgent tone.
"What is it, Jon? We're almost home," Garren replied, looking around. He saw nothing unusual.
"He needs our help, father. We need to help him," the boy insisted.
"What do you mean? Who needs our help, Jon?" his father asked, suspicious.
"The wolf, father. He's alone. He's nearby. We need to get him," he said.
"Wolf?" Garren looked toward the forest and frowned, but saw nothing that resembled a wolf, only bushes and trees.
"Yes, father! We need to help him. Stop the cart." His tone seemed to rise in pleading.
"What are you talking about? There's no wolf here, Jon!" he said cautiously.
"He's here. I feel it. Please."
"Jon, stop this game," Garren said seriously.
Jon looked at his father with pleading eyes. "Please, father..."
But Garren tried to ignore his son's words.
"Stop this, Jon. Let's go home. We're almost there, and your mother is waiting for us," he said, wanting to end the matter.
Then Jon did something he did not expect. The boy looked at his father with hurt in his eyes and simply turned, preparing to jump from the cart.
"Jon!" Garren shouted as he saw the boy fall to the ground, which could hurt him, and run into the woods.
"JON!!!" He shouted in shock, immediately stopping the cart before jumping down and running after his son.
"What has gotten into him now?" he growled through his teeth as he entered the forest, dodging trees and low branches.
"Jon!" he shouted, as the road disappeared behind him. They were completely inside the woods.
Finally, he caught sight of his son standing still, crouched down, picking something up from the ground.
"Jon, you'd better have a very good explanation for this, otherwise—" He did not finish the sentence.
Still frustrated that his son had run like that into the forest — something clearly dangerous — because of his childish invention about helping an imaginary wolf, Garren stopped when he saw what his son was holding.
There was a small creature in his arms.
It was a cub, a wolf...
Jon was so small that he could barely lift it, even though it was only a cub, but he held it carefully, turning his green eyes toward his father.
"I felt him, father. He was alone here. He was calling for me! We need to help him," Jon said, petting the animal.
The cub turned its head, looking curiously at the other human. It was a white wolf, with red eyes — an unusual color even for a wolf.
"Jon, this is dangerous. What if his mother is around?" Garren immediately looked around, searching for any sign of another wolf. This was not a dog. It was far too dangerous.
"No, father. He was alone. He is alone. I will take care of him," the boy said, as if there were no other option.
Garren looked at his son, worried. "Jon, you can't—"
"No, father. He has no one anymore. I will take care of him. I will feed him and take care of everything. If he dies, I will bury him myself. But it is decided, father. I will take care of him," the boy declared firmly.
Garren was shocked by those words. A child did not speak like that. But his son seemed determined, speaking with a conviction that even made his father question whether he was truly dealing with someone only two years of name.
Despite his anger over Jon having run away, Garren ended up sighing. The boy had already looked at him with hurt when he had not believed his words — to the point of running off.
He knew there was no use arguing and that Jon would do everything to take the cub anyway. In any case, it was only a cub, they could send it away later.
Father and son returned to the road in silence. Jon held the wolf against his chest, petting him, while the animal made no sound at all, simply enjoying the touch of the little hands.
"Jon, how did you know about this wolf? There was no way to see him from the road, inside the thick forest," Garren asked, breaking the silence, looking suspiciously at his son.
"I don't know... I just felt it," the boy replied after thinking for a moment, making a small childish shrug. "I knew he needed help. I could feel that he was calling me. It's like he was sent to me, father. That's why I'm going to take care of him! I feel that I must do this!"
"Jon... that is a wolf," Garren murmured, still trying to understand everything he had heard.
"Roman also has dogs. Why can't I have a wolf?" the boy said stubbornly.
"Dogs are easy to handle. They are already used to us. But wolves are wild animals, Jon. I cannot allow you to keep him. It is dangerous, both for you and for your mother."
The boy listened to that. He did not scream or begin to cry demanding that the wolf stay. He only looked at his father in a strangely calm way.
Garren had already lost count of how many times he had been surprised by his son that day.
Jon looked at him with a certain tone of understanding. "I know, father. Wild animals are dangerous. But not this one. He came to me because we are... connected? I don't know how to explain it... He called for me because he was looking for me, and I felt it. He is not a wild animal. He will be my wolf! I will call him... Ghost! He is silent and white like the ghosts from Uncle Roman's stories!!" the boy said, his tone mixed with calm and happiness, yet surprisingly wise.
Garren said nothing. He was still clearly against the idea, but he would leave it for Rowena to speak with Jon. If there was anyone capable of handling their son's stubbornness better than him, it was his wife.
They returned to the cart, which had moved a little while the horse grazed on the bushes by the roadside.
The man climbed up again, still trying to understand how he had ended up returning from the middle of the forest... with his son carrying a wolf cub.