You know those SI/OC stories where the person who is dumped into the fictional world is always conveniently knowledgeable about their new world and knows the characters front, back and sideways because they always end up in a place where they're a mega-fan? Welp. That deux ex machina won't happen here. That's just not very fun imo. I wouldn't call this a SI fic, because the heroine is genuinely not modeled after me or anyone I know, but it's definitely a story where the OC is minimally familiar with GoT at best…Not even a casual fan, really.

…Look, she basically is aware that it exists and that Jon Snow is hot. She knows nothing and will be stumbling her way through the journey as she goes.

I don't own GoT and apologies to the creator, George R. R. Martin, who hates fanfics, but ah well…

Summary: Most people living a mediocre life would be happy for a change, a reboot if you will. But I got more than that. My untimely death led me to be reborn. But it's not that simple. I now live in a fictional world, one I barely know two licks about, may I add. Not to mention, I'm not exactly on two legs this time around. How good are my chances for survival, trapped in the body of a direwolf? And if getting home's not an option, can I at least become human again? Or stop kicking my leg every time a handsome guy scratches behind my ear?

Situational awareness is important.

I know that. I know that. Which is why, whenever possible, I do my best to be absolutely, well, situationally aware! I thought I was being careful when I made an ice cream run to the only convenience store open late on a Sunday, just so my ungrateful roommate could have her obligatory Rocky Road. Because, she wouldn't dare go anywhere when Game of Thrones was due to be on in less than fifteen minutes.

It was her ongoing obsession for quite a while now. Never mind that the convenience mart wasn't that far, she needed time to mentally prepare herself! Her words, screamed shrilly at me. Watching Game of Thrones wasn't just a hobby, it was "a way of life" and Jean, well…she didn't really seem to have much of a life, but that was beside the point. She dedicated an entire hour before the show was due to come on, getting herself ready and performing her Sunday night ritual.

Everything must be perfect, or the viewing experience would be ruined. Again, the words she screamed shrilly when I asked her why the hell she didn't prepare for the fact that she'd devoured all the ice cream in the freezer the week before when her monthly friend was visiting, and that sooner or later it would need to be replaced.

She had a whole week to take her ass down to Walmart and pick up a new tub, but no. Typical Jean, waiting 'til the last minute. Be it a grocery run or a term paper…procrastination was something I could count on from her. I was the pragmatic one, the "dork" who planned ahead. But you know what? My GPA thanked me for it! Jean's, much like her credit card after a shopping trip to the outlet, cried.

Anyway, being the decently good friend I am, I volunteered myself to make the walk to the store and back. Why not? It wasn't that far, and it would give me an excuse to get out of the apartment and away from Jean during her prep-hour countdown because quite frankly, it really creeped me out.

To be honest, like full frontal, never-have-I-ever honest…I wasn't that into Game of Thrones. Like at all. Actually, I'd never even seen a full episode. I caught glimpses of it when Jean was curled on the couch, sobbing over some character that had died—which honestly seemed to happen on a weekly basis—but I had zero idea what was going on and I couldn't immediately put names to faces on the screen when Jean tried to rehash details to me.

I mean, she showed me the guy that played the main character, Jon Snow, and I admit he was pretty freaking hunky, but still wasn't enough incentive for me to watch the show. Plus, I was really more of a book girl. I heard there were books the show was adapted from. Maybe I'd try reading those. Some day. Look, maybe deep down I was just being a contrarian.

Jean begged me constantly to try it, but I always had an excuse ready every Sunday. I was tired. I needed to get ahead on some assignments. I had a date—she snorted at that, and watched me leave with a knowing look, like she could just tell I was going to drive myself across town to the milkshake place, and slurp down a malt alone. But really, I just wasn't interested. I didn't think a show where someone was constantly dying bloody for no apparent reason was my cup of tea. I didn't want to hurt Jean's feelings though. So I stayed allusive. She continued to try to recruit me to the Game of Thrones cult, and so it went. All this leads me back to my first point, in a roundabout way.

I try to be situationally aware. And usually I am. I had the bag containing Jean's pint of ice cream and some sherbet for myself safely in hand. I was approaching the crosswalk when my pocket vibrated with an incoming text. Expectedly, it was Jean urging me to hurry up. I sighed and shot her back a quick text to say I was right around the corner and she needed to learn the virtue of patience—and some appreciation wouldn't hurt, I tacked on.

Little did I know my situational awareness was about to fail me…in epic proportions. I should have seen it. I should have felt it. But as I stuck one foot in front of the other, reading Jean's whiny texts, I somehow completely missed the large truck barreling towards me until it was close enough for me to see the driver's horrified face as he honked the loud horn.

The headlights were blinding, and I hardly knew what had happened when I became airborne, my body landing with a sickening thud several feet away. I rolled across the road to a stop until I was face down. This was bad, I thought dimly. The ice cream was a splattered mess all over the street… Jean was gonna bitch.

I'm not sure if it was the shock of the thing that caused me to be unaware of how broken my body was. I could hear people screaming and gasping in horror. A man's voice frantically talking about not being able to stop, and someone speaking to who I assumed was a 911 operator. All that was just…too much to deal with. I wanted to rest. I wanted to be back in my bed, hiding away from Jean's weirdness with my pint of sherbet.

I debated about posting this because my knowledge of the series is still incomplete, I have so many other stories already going, I'm a full time grad school student, and the list goes on...but I'm learning fast, I'm finally balancing my updating, and I plan to post more chapters to this whenever grad school permits. I already have chapter 2 well underway. Should be ready within days, time permitted.

Please let me know if you think this little project is worth continuing. This was sort of a short test chapter.