9.
JON No. That’s a direwolf.
Ned kneels beside the wolf. Groping under the beast’s head, he gives a yank and comes up with a foot of shattered antler, slick with half-dried blood.
THEON There hasn’t been a direwolf south of the Wall for two hundred years.
Jon looks at the bundle beneath Robb’s arm and grins:
JON Well... now there are five.
When Bran sees what everyone is staring at his eyes widen. He moves in to get a closer look at the direwolf pup-- a tiny ball of gray-black fur, eyes still closed, nuzzling blindly against Robb’s chest, whimpering.
JORY Tough old beast, wasn’t she? Birthing a litter with an antler in her throat.
ROBB
(to Bran) Go on. You can touch him.
Bran gives the pup a quick, nervous stroke. As he turns:
JON
Here you go.
Jon thrusts another pup into Bran’s arms. Overjoyed, Bran plops down in the snow and rubs the wolf pup’s soft fur against his cheek.
Ned picks up two more helpless pups, one in each hand. Jon picks up the fifth.
HULLEN (40s), the horse master, frowns at this ill omen.
HULLEN Direwolves loose in the realm.
THEON
Not for long.
Theon draws his sword and reaches for Bran’s pup.
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