The Winter of Wolves

The Winter of Wolves was a particularly harsh winter that descended upon Westeros in the early decades of the third century AC. As is typically the case, the North was worst affected by the snows and cold winds, however, they were not alone in their suffering.

Fears of the last truly harsh winter to strike Westeros saw an increase in violent means of survival. Archmaester Bradamar would later pen a book titled The Winter of Wolves, so named for the old Northern proverb: "When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." This lead to the winter being referred to as such in later years.

The Onset of Winter
Late in the year 325 AC, maesters throughout Westeros began noticing the chilling of the winds. Backed by enough evidence from across the Seven Kingdoms, the Conclave met in the fourth month of the year 326 AC and decreed the coming of winter. By their estimates, the winter was expected to be harsh, but Archmaester Bradamar believed none could have anticipated the extent of its severity, nor the impact this would have on the smallfolk population following the Long Night.

Desperation in the North
As the days grew colder and the winds harsher, it became more apparent to all that the winter would not be a short and mild one. Fear set in quickly, the smallfolk dreading what was to come. Reserves of grain had been stockpiled as best they could be, but it would quickly grow apparent that these would likely not be enough.

In a not-so-unusual turn, some of the peasantry took to banditry to ensure survival. For many, the concept of 'what's mine is mine and his is his' quickly disappeared from thought. What replaced it was sheer necessity for survival: 'what's his is yours, if you can but take it.'

So, many began to take. In most cases, this banditry was small-scale and contained sufficiently enough by local lords and their bannermen. Punishment was most often the typical loss of finger for thievery, yet Archmaester Bradamar chronicles one instance where a captured thief was said to have offered his whole hand instead of his finger to his captors, on the condition that it be his again when the punishment had been dealt. The reason was left unspoken, Bradamar writes, but the truth was known to all who heard the thief's plea, such was the severity of winter.

The Thorns of Winter
Song had ever been an aspect of life in Westeros. Among the peasants and lords alike, the songs of Westeros were known to all. Some, however, were lost on certain peoples. Flowers of Spring was a favourite of southern courts and taverns, but in the North - particularly during winters - the song garnered scorn and derision if ever performed. A song that spoke of the fanciful nature of the spring and the wondrous times it brought had no place in winter, not for the Northmen who suffered it worst of all.

It isn't known exactly when, but the records Archmaester Bradamar was capable of collating estimate the emergence of the Thorns of Winter in the late months of the year 328 AC, two and a half years after the onset of winter. So named as a counterpart to the song, the Thorns of Winter grew in legend and stature as the months passed. What made the Thorns so peculiar was their nomadic existence. Most minor banditry consisted of peasants from one village looting another and returning home. The thorns, however, stayed in one spot for no longer than a fortnight by Bradamar's estimate.

Writing so long after the events, Bradamar notes that the line between reality and legend is often blurred regarding the Thorns. With so few willing to travel during the winter, accurate and repeatable accounts of the bandits were hard to come by. Some claimed their numbers no larger than five dozen men, others as many as five hundred. Bradamar notes that a force of thousands was unlikely due to the ease there would be in tracking and catching such a force, but the group numbering as many as one hundred was not beyond the realm of possibility.

Dusky Dennett was the fabled leader of the Thorns. The historicity of the man remains up for debate as he was never captured, but all accounts of the group include him in some capacity. Tall and strong, with a body turned hard by a life that was harder, the man was called Dusky not because he shared the skin of the Southern Islanders, but because it had turned black in the frost. Some spoke of a man half made of crumbling stone, as twisted and malformed as Harrenhal. Others of a man of rigid iron, unable and unwilling to bend to anyone or anything. All spoke of his cruelty and the severity of his actions.

The first written accounts of the Thorns came from the Hornwood, where Archmaester Bradamar believes the group would have formed. Word came that a roving pack of bandits descended from the north onto a number of unsuspecting villages and hamlets. As every other Northern lord did in time, Lord Hornwood sent men to the villages further north, awaiting the return of the criminals. Instead, Lord Hornwood was greeted by news of attacks in other locations. West, south again, back east - Lord Hornwood's pursuit was hopeless as the bandits danced across his lands, evading his patrols.

It was at the turn of the year when Lord Hornwood ordered a scourge of his woods. Enlisting the aid of both House Stark of the Dreadfort and House Manderly, Lord Hornwood caught and captured every bandit and poacher on his lands. Yet, those matching the descriptions of his primary targets were not to be found. It would be weeks again until news of the Thorns emerged, and not where they were expected.

White Harbor was the boon of the North that winter. Almost all goods and foods that flowed into the North came through the city, and so it was a ripe target for mischief. However, it was most expected that this mischief would occur within the city walls, or at the very least on the waters of the Bite. The Thorns of Winter had neither the means of entering the city, nor of walking on water. Instead, they waited for what few caravans left the confines of the city and pounced. Dozens of caravans fell prey to the Thorns, yet Lord Manderly did not ride out to protect them, for he had seen the folly in this endeavor first hand. Instead, he sat behind his walls, and waited.

It is not known what brought the Thorns to depart from the relative comfort of White Harbor, but something did. When they next emerged, they were talked about in the most concrete sources available, those of Maester Clarence of the Twins. Details on the time between the attacks on Manderly lands and those within the Riverlands are scarce, but one commonality is the decreased hysteria and estimations of strength accompanying the group of bandits. By the time of their encounters with the Freys, their numbers were estimated at fewer than a hundred - a pale cry from the hundreds and hundreds many claimed north of the Neck.

Archmaester Bradamar put forth two suggestions as to the circumstances of the Thorns of Winter south of the Neck. Firstly, that greater counteractions from the local lords in the North had dwindled their numbers and forced them to flee south through the marshes, where cavalry could not give chase. Secondly, and far more likely, was the fact that as with all others, the Neck was the undoing of them all. None but the Crannogmen knew those lands, and the severity meant that one wrong step no longer meant wet breeches, but almost certainly death. It is believed that the journey through the Neck ruined the group, bringing them almost to an end.

However, as Maester Clarence suggests, the group did not end in that moment. The harshness of winter was not the same in the Riverlands as it had been in the North. There were warmer winds and clearer fields, with more food and greater warmth to be found. By all accounts, the Dusky Dennett and his Thorns were invigorated in their new locale, and began to wreak havoc across the northernmost lands of the Trident. Their initial successes were great and their legend grew once more, but their lack of foresight would ultimately be their undoing.

The Riverlords caught wind of the actions of these bandits, and began to prepare retaliatory efforts. In the North, the bandits were free to traverse the landscape at their will, but in the Riverlands, the Green Fork meant that the group had only three avenues of escape - through the Twins, across the Ruby Ford, or back through the Neck. Lord Frey knew this, and corresponded with Lord Darry and all others along the Green Fork. Taking the northern paths, the patrols of the Riverlords swept southwest towards the river, pushing anything in their way towards the fork as well.

Eventually, the bandits were found at long last, on Frey lands. They had not gotten far, and by accounts the Lord of the Crossing wasted no time in sending his cavalry to run them down. Within a fortnight of their discovery, the heads of every member of the Thorns of Winter adorned the walls of the Twins, though none bearing the resemblance of a man blackened by the cold. None had heard of Dusky Dennett ever since, with some perpetuating the rumour of his escape.

Winter's End
Maester Clarence's accounts of the Thorns of Winter end in the third moon of the 329th year after Aegon's Conquest. For half a year the bandits had terrorized low and highborn alike, from as far north as the Hornwood to as far south as the Twins. Winter did not end with the plucking of the Thorns, however, for the cold winds would last half a year more following their demise.

Fields remained hard and barren, and many more died from starvation and the cold in the months that followed. Banditry continued, but many lords were sure to stamp it out promptly for fear of another bushel of thorns. Though there were many more that acted like the Thorns, song and story carried their names through the years, and the extent to which they encapsulated that particular winter made them synonymous with it in time.