Chapter XXIV: Arya III – West of Westeros
They were all on half rations, and there was no way back. There hadn’t been for a month now, and the sailors were tense. This was it, death or glory. Arya was sure that if it hadn’t been she who had killed the Night King, she’d have had a mutiny on her hands by now. As it was, these men would follow her to the end of the earth – and in this case, it was quite literal.
But there was no end, only more ocean. At least the winds were fair and the ocean full of bounty. She had learned to fish from one of the men, and that was what she did most days now, like most of the men except the ones that were needed to handle the ship, and the lookout perched high above them all. Every so often, she’d look up to the crow’s nest, hoping for word of a change. Here, out on the sea, it seemed like the earth stood still. The giant sea of dark blue never changed, even though the sun ran its course day after day. Even the stars seemed to move more than they did.
She had spent days like this. Weeks. She’d learned all the chanteys, started to understand the intricacies of handling the ship and even knew how to fix sails, ropes and nets, despite her lack of talent with a needle. How ironic that out here, she’d finally found a use for a needle that didn’t bore her! Sailing was waiting, hoping and praying, until one day, the fifty-second day since they had upped anchor at Bear Island—
“Land Ahoy!” the lookout cried, pointing west. In seconds, all thoughts of fishing were forgotten as Arya hurried to the forecastle with the rest of the men. But even from the bows, there was nothing but sea to see yet.
“Fuck this,” Arya said, and quickly began to climb the mast. She’d become good at it over the months at sea, and she was small enough to climb into the crow’s nest alongside the lookout. The young man pointed just to the right of the ship’s bows excitedly and Arya turned. There, a dark, scraggly line rose above the sea.
Arya felt a grin spread across her face. Soon, the real adventure would begin.
Fin