the death of innocence
She gazed upon his face, the reaper of death and destruction that came with his sinister grin. She was sure that he had come to claim yet another victim. Stripped bare by the man many referred to as the king of the free folk beyond the wall. As their first encounter began to enter her thoughts. The tent with its little light seemed to make the mountainous frame that threatened to swallow her whole less intimidating, the feel of her chin pinched between his rough fingers as he admired his newly caught prize.
She'd seen the impure thoughts in his mind, though they paled in comparison to the chilling words that fell: "I will break you." He spoke sadistically, sending waves of fear through her frame, though her eyes appeared calm and defiant. He took pleasure in it, as if she were a wild mare, though he looked at her with eyes of familiarity as he aggressively pushed her onto her back. His muscular frame quickly blocked out the light as she felt each breath become more of a struggle.
Her slender frame was pinned beneath him as her feeble hands attempted to push him away, leaving crescent-shaped marks against his skin as she dug them into his flesh. Squirming beneath him in an attempt to escape the inevitable. She felt her gaze move away from his as he penetrated her once-virgin womb with one hard thrust of his pelvis. He tore into her tears, staining her cheeks as she felt the slow drips of blood slide down her thigh, stripping her of the innocence she once possessed. On her neck, a rash formed from his beard as it scraped against her, his mead-filled breath lingering in her nose.
The damp floor beneath her back was beginning to muddy her hair, and though she did her best to hide the sound of her whimpering, he noticed. He took pleasure in it as the sound that shattered her spirit filled his ears, fueling his disgraceful actions. "Cry all you want, little wolf, no one is coming to save you," he said with spiteful arrogance, making her tremble under his touch. He spoke as if he knew her, but how could that be? She could have never known a man so cruel and unfeeling, and yet the way he called her little wolf made her think otherwise as he turned her over, pushing her face into the dirt forcefully.
Beyond the tent of her misery, the sound of murmurs and shuffling feet from free folk that roamed the encampment filled her ears, and though she hoped someone would take pity and come to her aid, none did. In fact, he continued to taunt the young wolf even after he'd released himself, as the light in her eyes faded into the abyss. Calling in a few other men to have their fill of the wolf before sending her back to her brother beyond the wall.
As she found herself face-down in the dirt, her body began shaking under the grasp of two other men who'd since taken on her abuse. She found her mind wondering about the night her father passed. "Wolves are survivors, my sweet girl, and you are a wolf, no matter what anyone else tells you." It played on a loop, reminding her of the Stark blood she possessed. She was a wolf, a survivor, and she was unyielding. With her eyes shut, her mind took refuge in a white-wolf beyond the tent, allowing her to escape momentarily.
She'd become the wolf, a warg, and though she vaguely remembered the event, she returned to find her abusers dead on the ground, ripped and torn apart. Her body was naked, covered in the blood of her enemy, legs trembling as she pulled herself from the ground, stumbling out of the tent as screams of agony filled the air.