"We're heading to Winterfell," Cregan announced to Barthogan as the Karstark heir was about to retire to his tent from the day's marching.

"What ? Why ?" Barthogan asked, tired.

"Theon Stark has asked for family representatives, to help him settle in and start the business of his rule," Cregan spoke flatly, "I would have sent Kyle and his, but given that we were to pass through Winterfell, I felt it would be smarter to simply go myself - and bring you with."

Barthogan grumbled softly - he'd wanted to get back home. All these months away from Karhold had left him terribly homesick. He missed the trees and the air there. He missed his cousins and uncle.

Yet the boy knew that he needed to go. Not just because his father had commanded it, but also because it was a necessary thing for the next head of the Karstark house. To establish connections in Winterfell with the new Lord there would be of great advantage to his family. While he knew Cregan abhorred politics, Barthogan also knew that they were a necessary part of the things of rule and governance, particularly these days where one Stark was traded for another, and a King lay dead.

"Do you have any thoughts on it, boy ?" Cregan asked, running his hand over his beard.

"No father," Barthogan said, then left the tent.

As he stepped out, the young Karstark looked up. The moon was full and the sky was clear. The air smelled sweet and wet. How soft Spring was. How beautiful.

I will be sitting in the court of a new Stark. Won't that be something ? Barthogan thought, and chuckled a little to himself.

Then he returned to his tent and slept. He dreamt of Karhold, of the peace that Cregan always spoke of. How sweet it would be - like the Spring night air.