Warning: Description of a child who has received physical abuse. No abuse demonstrated.

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The wind howled and battered against the travelers' bodies. The large amount of furs and leather were no match for the deep chill left by the northern wind. The companions, along with their party, collectively shuddered against the next gust. The real North was far colder, vaster, and intimidating than one could have imagined. As the group traveled north, away from Winterfell, the landscape drastically changed. Gone were the various light and dark forestry, it was replaced by dark woods that cast their shadows outward as if to warn wanderers away from them.

The vastness of the North had only truly begun. They had yet to see the 700 ft wall that was said to be 300 ft thick and spanning 300 miles-safeguarding the North, from the Bay of Seals in the East to the Gorge in the west. Plus, there was the "Land of Always Winter." More snow and danger.

The snow crunched beneath the horses' hooves. Each crunch left Zipporah feeling further and further away, not in just distance but her force tether with Robb as well. It was difficult to check in or get any semblance of what was going on back home. She had to trust her gut feeling, and as a Solo, she knew that her gut could be trusted. Casting away thoughts of her husband and son, she refocused her thoughts. Dwelling on them would cause a severe drift to one side of the force. She must remained balanced.

Her sharp eyes constantly glanced about, and her enhanced ears listened for any sort of irregularity. The White Walkers had made their move-to gather all the dead of the north and possibly conscript the living as well. They had to get the Wall and begin preparations and possible peace talks with the Wildlings beyond the Wall. Robb had given her full authority to make whatever deal was going to insure the survival of the realm of men.

The Wall could not fall. The only way it could is if the White Walkers were able to get their hands on another monster to break the magic that fortified the Wall from the undead. She wasn't sure which one, but she knew they were waiting for someone or something. What could break a 700ft Wall of Ice? She'd done some research with the help of the Maester, but he couldn't name a monster that could do that amount of damage. She also researched the Three Eyed Raven, but most of the entries were incomplete. That's concerning.

A part of her was cautious and very troubled at the Night King's fascination or connection with Bran. Zipporah wondered if he had listened to her warning, to stay away from the white walker leader or did he fall into temptation? Such a heavy burden to carry as a young one. Her gut had not given her the warning or alarm that he had. So far so good then.

The frozen wind blew again, bringing her out of her deep contemplation. Blinking a few more times and slightly shaking her head, she noted Jon smirking at her.

"What?" she questioned with a quirked brow, quickly straightening her back and readjusting her posture.

"Was wondering when you'd come back to join us." He joked as he glanced behind them to check on their caravan. All clear.

"I was always here." She challenged with a slight scoff.

"Oh really? Then what did I tell you about us arriving at Castle Black?" He asked with a chuckle. Did he? Had he? She honestly couldn't tell anyone what happened 5 minutes ago. A part of her was disgusted with herself, how could she be so selfish?

Sighing in defeat, she shrugged her shoulders, "Tell me once more as apparently I missed something."

Giving her a true laugh, a truly rare thing from Jon Stark, he shared, "I never said anything about Castle Black. I'm just teasing ye." It was her turn to laugh. She had fallen for it, very much off her game. She'd never dare say that she was. Her hands instinctively and compulsively checked to see that her lightsabers were where she'd previously placed them. True security. The metal offered no true comfort as only valerian steel and dragon glass could kill the creatures of the North. Could lightsabers do the same? Well, they'd probably find out. She inwardly snorted at the thought. Knowing her luck, it'd only slow those things down. She'd definitely test it once they arrived. No doubt Jon would wholeheartedly object or demand to join her. Either option would be a battle of wits.

"We should be arriving soon. Remember what I said before, these men have no concept of women having authority or respect. Most of the men that took the black are former rapers, thieves, etc."

Nodding, she replied, "I remember, but I will not, as Goddess & Queen of the North, Mother of Wolves, stand idle by while they think they know what they're doing when they don't. If they need a demonstration, I'll oblige." She flashed a devilish, threatening grin that sent a different kind of chill down Jon's spine. He had seen her in the battle against the Lannister men. He could only imagine what she would be like if she wasn't been holding herself back. The superstition, rumors, and fear, that would have cropped up with her using her full abilities, were something they could not have afforded then, but they could now.

"Aye. I don't doubt it. Let me try to explain the situation before you do your magic." Jon half pleaded. He knew she'd listen; unlike his cousins, Zipporah was much more rational and realistic. He knew she had a troubled and challenging childhood.

"Perhaps that's why we get along well, and fine."

Grinning at her, he turned his attention back to landscape, he could make out the shadow of Mole's Town. He grimaced and shouted to the group, "We will not be stopping in Mole's Town, only passing through. Keep yer eyes to yourselves. Say nothing to anyone. We must keep moving."

Silence was the response. Jon and Zipporah took the silence as an agreement. That was easy.

As they reached further, Zipporah truly understood why Jon had elected to simply pass through. The villagers and visitors alike looked like a mix of Corellia's and Kijimi's unsavory characters mixed with Hothian landscape. A hard pass. Her eyes hardened at the different noises sauntering into the breeze. Her skin crawled. Then she saw something that could not be ignored or mistaken.

A little brunette girl, only in a small dress with a messy apron and no shoes, staring at the caravan. The look of awe at Zipporah felt like the twisting of a knife. The young girl moved closer to them, giving both Jon and Zi a better look. Deep bruises graced her small, sunken face.

Don't you do it. Jon warned her mentally. It's not our place.

I will do it. She's a part of my kingdom, right? Zipporah stopped her horse causing murmuring amongst the group. Jon sent them a look that silenced their questions and murmuring. Don't take forever. I understand this cause, but the realm is at stake.

Nodding in response while climbing down from her horse, Zipporah couldn't help noticing how sore she was from sitting. She took the opportunity to stretch as she moved in the girl's direction. A part of her, the soldier, felt guilty for stopping and not moving forward to complete the mission, but the other part of her, no doubt the part that came from her father, demanded that this injustice be dealt with. Children were not meant to be treated this way. They are treasures. The future.

Moving slowly toward the young girl as to not alarm her, Zipporah gave her a soft, encouraging smile, and murmured, "Hello there."

The girl didn't move from where she stood. Her eyes simply stared at the older woman. Zipporah guessed that she wasn't any older than 9 or 10. Then again, she wasn't good at guessing ages. She could feel the girl's curiosity and pain.

"What is your name?" Zipporah pressed as she lowered herself to be at eye level with the young girl. The bruises were already healing but that did not explain the lack of snow clothes.

"What are you?" The girl asked in a meek voice that floated away with the wind. Zipporah was surprised at the question.

"I am fierce warrior." She replied with a larger, reassuring smile. She sensed the girl needed a protector not a maternal figure. The girl's dark eyes seemed to be contemplating her answer. Zipporah knew she was using precious time, but she refused to allow this young girl to continue to live in abuse and neglect.

"Where are your shoes, love?" Zipporah asked motioning to the girl's extremely pale bordering bluish feet. Zipporah could only imagine how painful walking barefoot in the tundra landscape felt.

"Mister Lawrence took them." She whispered, and instinctively the girl looked back the building from which she had emerged. Zipporah's keen hearing could pick up grumbling and mumbling about "the girl" cleaning up another mess. Glaring at the building and then turning her attention back to the young one, "Love, why did he take them?"

"I-" She began, but then a older, fat man bellowed, "Kyri, get back her'. Don't be talkin to strangers! Ya have work to do." The girl began to shake prompting Zipporah to stand up to her full height and move in front of her. Signaling to the man that there was a conversation to be had.

"Are you her father?" Zipporah questioned as she moved toward the aged, messy man. She could smell the ale, sweat, and rotted food on him. What a terrible trio. Poor girl, that smell alone..

"May as well be. Took her in. Let her stay in exchange for cleanin." He informed with a tone that told Zipporah that he thought he was doing the young one a real favor.

"And the bruises?" Zipporah hissed with narrowed eyes. The fully clothed man shrugged, "Wasn't fast enough I suppose." Her blood boiled, and she was faintly aware of the sound of her own blood coursing through her veins. It took every once of her to not end the garbage before her. What would bloodshed achieve? Would it be true justice? What would happen to the young girl behind her?

Glaring even further, she stated through clenched teeth, "That is simply unacceptable behavior. This should not and will not be tolerated."

Scoffing, "Who died and made you queen? Mind your own business. The girl owes me. "

Quirking an eyebrow and slightly smirking at the phrasing, "No one yet, but she owes you nothing any longer."

"Listen you foreign bitch, you don't get to tell me what is what!" He charged her with all his might. Reaching out with ease, she stopped him in mid step and slammed him against the building's wall. Holding him against the wall with enough force to crack his ribs, causing him to cry out in pain, she menaced in her darkest tone, "I am the Goddess of the North, and I will tell you what is what. You will treat this young one with respect and dignity. Should I come back through this town and find this not to be the case, I will deliver the King's justice. Slowly and painfully. Do you understand?" She knew she was almost out of control, but the piece of shit deserved it. The man stared at her wide eyed and breathless. The fear in his eyes and his vigorous head nodding told her that he'd adhere to her command.

Releasing him, she swiftly moved to address the girl who was standing in the same spot she'd left her, only this time with her mouth was agape with wonder. "Kyri, you shall tell me if he does not listen?" The young girl animatedly nodded. She sensed the girl's hope returning. Confidence, in a young girl, could prove to be a game changer for the future.

Zipporah walked back to the caravan. She noted that Jon look somewhat entertained, "Feel better?" Not all of us are just meat sacks, aye?

"He deserved worse." She snapped with slight disappointment and righteous anger. Her eyes were darker than normal, hinting to her disposition toward the dark side. His mental message hit her hard. She had made that statement earlier in their travels-men, women, and even children were that. They technically were, and when the war arrived, she'd revert to that mindset, however, it was easy to admit that there was more to the people around them. She had a responsibility to the people as more than just meat and bones. This was a reminder that she prone to being wrong. The force had set this up. This was a learning moment. She hated those.

Jon sought to bring her back from her brooding, "Aye, but you weighed the girl's odds of survival? Right? Figured scaring him into being a better caregiver versus killing the man? Which means that we're stopping here on the way back?"

"Of course. The King's justice may need to be completed." Slowly and painfully. If it was one of the last things she did, she'd return and check on the young girl. The force demanded it.

"Well, what was that then?" Jon asked with the same small smirk that had begun their whole conversation.

"Warm up." She threw him a shit eating grin for the set-up she'd given him for a one-liner.

"That's what I'm afraid of." He mumbled, but his eyes were bright with mirth.