Bran(13)

Halfway across the bridge, Jon pulled up suddenly.
“What is it, Jon?” their lord father asked.
“Can’t you hear it?”
Bran could hear the wind in the trees, the clatter of their hooves on the ironwood planks, thewhimpering of his hungry pup, but Jon was listening to something else.
“There,” Jon said. He swung his horse around and galloped back across the bridge. They watchedhim dismount where the direwolf lay dead in the snow, watched him kneel. A moment later he wasriding back to them, smiling.
“He must have crawled away from the others,” Jon said.
“Or been driven away,” their father said, looking at the sixth pup. His fur was white, where therest of the litter was grey. His eyes were as red as the blood of the ragged man who had died thatmorning. Bran thought it curious that this pup alone would have opened his eyes while the otherswere still blind.
“An albino,” Theon Greyjoy said with wry amusement. “This one will die even faster than theothers.”
Jon Snow gave his father’s ward a long, chilling look. “I think not, Greyjoy,” he said. “This onebelongs to me.”