A Jon Snow sequel: Beyond the North (GAME OF THRONES)

III. Ares, the Ram

The wildlings and Jon had made camp in a small valley nestled near a stream and forest. They had spent the day foraging and hunting, managing to find lots of deer and wild berries. This land had similar food, which was good news to the foreigners.

That night had been filled with heavy drinking and full stomachs. The free children ran and played in the fresh grass as moonlight illuminated their camp. Songs of joy echoed through the hills and Jon sat smiling through it all. He brought the wooden, hand carved cup to his lips and indulged in the rough liquor Tormund had made. This new land, a foreign world which seemed like a dream continued to bewilder the twenty seven year old man.

For his whole life, the north was a vast chasm of winter. On this day, he discovered a new world that had been attached to Westeros by a small desolate continent which acted as a bridge. Maybe it was heaven. Jon's mind was at peace as the old life he had began to drift away on a patch of ice across the open water. Into the fog vanished Aegon Targaryen, Jon Snow son of Ned Stark, King of the North, and the man who knew absolutely nothing. Jon was reborn, baptized under the full moon in the cool spring night.

Tormund sat beside Jon and gulped his horn of wine. "We have found our new bounty, my boy!"

Jon smiled, "We can be whoever we want out here. A new place for a new life."

Tormund slapped Jon's back with a hearty chuckle, "I feel like I died on that mountain. We emerge from the snow as Gods!" He took a long swig, gulping loudly.

Jon didn't speak much after that. He just soaked in the sight of these happy people before heading inside his tent for the night. His mind drifted off and his smile faded. The depression that had cursed the Jon of Westeros was still left behind in the new Jon, it's red eyes watching snow fall fast asleep. Even in this new reality, Jon's dreams had been plagued by nightmares.

By morning, a sweet smell of berries wafted through the opening of Jon's tent causing a stir.  The raven haired man sat up and rubbed his eyes in order to push back the depression within his mind.  Those red eyes vanished for now, ready to return again once Jon went back to sleep.

All of the men were loading their packs for the hunt.  This world was still new, and Jon was worried what kind of animals they would encounter.  There were five groups going off to the hunt with one group of mostly children and a few men staying behind to protect camp.  Jon decided he'd go alone, and Tormund shook his head insisting he'd tag along.  The two headed northeast on horseback. 

The valley was beautiful and green as if untouched by man.  Tormund spotted a herd of deer ripe for the picking and the two headed off towards the woods. The animals disappeared behind the trees; the fox and the wolf followed as quietly as possible. Tormund readied his bow as soon as the large herbivores came back into view. He breathed out slowly, calmly, and released the arrow.

An immediate hit. The large animal cried out and ran, merely being injured. Tormund huffed and headed in the direction of his prey. Jon followed suit, keeping his eyes peeled.

The sound of a soft stream echoed through the woods and they spotted the deer limping towards the water. Tormund loaded the next arrow, this time he was aiming for the kill. He drew in a breath, breathed out slowly, and shot. The arrow went through the eye, and the buck was down.

As the fox moved in to collect his prize, Jon heard the rustling of leaves and twigs. He called for Tormund; something in his gut didn't feel right. Jon reached for his sword but it was too late, the wolf and the fox were surrounded by armored men on horseback.  They appeared out of thin air, at least twenty men. Tormund stood over his kill staring blankly at the men each with a sword aimed at his face.  "What's the big idea then?" One of the men spoke.