The Northern Dragon

CH 36: THE RAINS OF CASTAMERE (2/3)

– Somewhere in the New Gift –

An eagle cawed as it flew over the greying sky. On the ground, an old man with white hair and a short beard looked up at the noise but then continued walking when he saw it was only a bird. He carried a heavy bucket filled with water in each hand and went toward his house.

The old man didn't think much of it as he entered the hut. He had no idea that after the eagle surveyed the area, it flew off, transmitting everything it saw to its warg master.

Orell's eyes returned to normal after he stopped looking through the eyes of the eagle. He crouched behind the stone fence that was built around the old man's land. The fence was crudely made but it was thick and strong. Unfortunately, it wasn't tall enough and it was easy to jump over it. Not to mention, it made for a great hiding place for the nearby wildlings.

Using the fence as a cover, Orell returned to where Tormund and the others were. "Only one old man and eight good horses."

"What's one old man doing with eight horses?" It didn't make much sense to Tormund.

Jon kept his head down. He didn't like the way things were heading. "He breeds them for the Watch."

Ygritte glanced at him. "How's he keep folks from stealing them?"

"The Watch protects him."

Orell snorted, "Not today, they don't. He's selling horses, he's got some gold in there."

Tormund immediately agreed. "And proper steel."

"Let's carve him up." As soon as Orell said that, Tormund and the others prepared to move.

"We just take the horses and go." Before he knew it, Jon had already said that. When the others looked at him, he could only try to argue. Although, he knew they wouldn't care. "The old man's no threat."

Orell lifted a brow, "I keep telling you."

Apparently, not wanting to murder an innocent old guy is irrefutable proof that a person is siding with the Night's Watch and not the Free Folk.

Tormund didn't respond to Orell. And before he could make a decision, Ygritte tried to reason with Jon. "He's an old man. A spear through the heart's a better way to die than coughing up your last with no one but your horses to hear."

Jon didn't want to just give up, however. "The Watch might send a few men looking for a horse thief. They'll send a lot more to hunt down murderers."

"I hope so. Killing crows in their castle is tough. Killing them out here in the open, that's what we do." Tormund turned away from Jon and sent out the order. "Spread out. Surround the hut and move in."

They each readied their weapons. Most had spears and axes while a smaller number had arrows and swords. Jon was the only one with a proper blade.

The wildlings jumped over the stone fence and sprinted toward the hut from the front. Their steps were quick and silent, not drawing much attention, and their bodies were bent in a crouching position.

Jon was closer to the back. He ground his teeth, trying to think. He knew that it would be better if he bit his tongue and played along. It would allow him to gain more trust and information about the attack on the Wall. But he just couldn't do it.

Internally groaning, he slammed his blade against a rock. The loud clanking noise reached the more sensitive ears of the horses and startled them.

There were eight horses, all tied to a tree in front of the house. When all eight began stomping the ground and making noises, the sound became loud enough for the old man inside to hear it.