“Are we out of the woods?”
‘ almost. ’
gendry smiles, kind n’ small, it is, as he trudges o’er branches and allows the flat o’ his boots t’ land on the mud. woods should scare ‘im, he thinks; months o’ it bein’ trapped and lost in the riverrun with the burnin’ fear that he’ll get caught someday, arya and hot pie as well, and they’d be dragged t’ a worser place, they would, and there’d be no more suns for them t’ witness, no more dawns t’ look forward t’, no more days t’ complaint in when the hours stretched. but it doesn’t. it doesn’t scare gendry. in fact, nothin’ much o’ storm’s end was scary. intimidatin’ and tall, aye, but it was - beautiful. large. strong. gendry likes the idea o’ strong. they’re dependable and meant t’ protect, they are. just like him, he thinks sillily, turnin’ around t’ see if edric follows.
years ago, if someone would tell him, they would, that he won’t be in king’s landing no more, that he won’t have a time in his life that he’s constantly afraid and lookin’ o’er his shoulders holdin’ his breath t’ be caught, gendry’s sure he’d pelted them with the nearest smithing tool he could find. but now…? now he’s got a place he can call home. and - lookin’ t’ the bright blue eyes o’ edric’s own - he’s got a family he can care for, he can do right by. and the people o’ stormlands who are fierce and strong and brave, maybe ‘ven stupidly so at times, but they’re true, aye. true and loyal. one look at gendry and edric t’gether, and they had whispered instantly, they had, that the stags o’ their land had come home.
‘ i won’t leave ye’. a pesky little bugger, ye’ are, but - i’ll never leave ye’. come on, now. just move a bit faster, won’t you ? ’
meme.
