[Walking down a path near the riverbank, they find the body of a full-grown female direwolf with five direwolf pups huddling close to her]
It's a freak!
It's a direwolf. Tough old beast.
There are no direwolves south of the Wall.
Now there are five. You want to hold it?
[Bran takes the pup immediately and wraps it in his cloak.]
Where will they go?
They don't belong down here.
Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother.
[Theon draws his dagger and grabs the pup from Bran.]
Right, give it here!
No!
Put away your blade!
I take orders from your father, not you.
Please, Father!
I'm sorry, Bran.
Lord Stark? There are five pups, one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. They were meant to have them.
You will train them yourselves, you will feed them yourselves, and if they die, you will bury them yourselves.
What about you?
I'm not a Stark. Get on.
[He notices something at the base of a tree and heads towards it.]
What is it?
[Jon straightens up, holding a sixth direwolf pup, an albino.]
Ah, the runt of the litter! That one's yours, Snow.
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