THE NORTH BEYOND | JON SNOW

CHAPTER SEVEN.

I sat watching the sun creep up, the veil of darkness lifting with each passing second. I couldn't sleep at all, my head was plagued with images from that night. Just before the sun came up, my hands had been bound while the other free folk destroyed camp to start walking again. We had stayed here an extra day than we were supposed to, Red came back empty handed from a hunt claiming she missed but I doubted it. She never missed. I'd been with her on hunts, whether it was rabbit or deer, that arrow always went where she wanted it. She even tried to teach me once, but I was impatient and irritable and we both gave up before long. It was more likely that she did it so I could have one more day of rest before the torturous walk to Mance's camp started again and for that I was grateful.

I was careful not to attract too much attention to myself, I sat with my back facing a jagged rock, staring up at the lightening sky. Something about the silence around the camp unnerved me, but I didn't voice my fears to anyone. I just sat, still and silent looking upwards.

So when the first crow dresses all in black jumped down from their vantage point, my head snapped and I opened my mouth to warn Red.

"Ygritte, behind you!" I screamed at her, pulling myself up from my sitting position.

She dodged the swing he took and stepped backwards, looking around for a weapon. I grabbed a rock from the floor with both of my bound hands and swung wildly, hitting the crow on his head with a sickening crack. But I lost my balance after hitting him and tumbled down beside the dead corpse, hitting my head against the rock as I fell. My head spun and I tried to pull myself up but stopped, feeling  the cold steel tip of a sword against my neck. I looked up, blinking to see who it was and when my vision focussed again, I saw a familiar face. The crow from Craster's Keep. He'd know I was lying, I only hoped that his naivety helped me now, too.

He looks at my bound hands and turns away, keeping his sword trained on my neck. "She's tied up," he says, and another crow comes over to me, older than Jon and casts a careful eye over me.

I breathe in deeply. I need a story, a good one. One to make them think I wasn't one of the free folk, to give them a reason to keep me alive maybe just long enough that Night might come and find me. Men like him only want you to give them a good enough reason to want to let you go. Then I remember the man in the Haunted Forest, covered in black fur atop his black horse. How he shouted something about being the first ranger, that whoever it was should step out into the open. How afterwards,  he sat against a tree, one open palm trying desperately to stop the blood rushing out of him. And how the thing that killed him seemed to look up with a terrifying ice blue stare that seemed to see everything and walk purposefully away.

I look around for Ygritte and see her reaching for a weapon before someone presses a knife to her throat, binding her hands with rope. My throat tightens and I turn away from her, the cold steel against my neck grabbing my attention again.

"Why are you tied up, girl?" The older crow asks me.

Better to start meek and naive, I thought. "I'm a prisoner." I said quietly, gasping when the sword pressed deeper into my neck.

"I saw her, back at Craster's Keep."

I chew the inside of my cheek, trying to connect the dots on an answer that doesn't end with my cold corpse burning on a fire. "This man, called himself Ranger First or something or other...sent me to do a job."

The older crows face flashes with shock for less than a second, so quick that I'm not sure I even saw it but then laughs to cover up the shock and crouches down so that we're on eye level.

"Do you know who I am, girl?" He asks me, a smile dancing across his lips.

I take a look at his gloves, the empty spaces where the fingers of this one once used to be.

"Half-hand. You're Half-hand."

"You're right, so why would the the First Ranger ask you to do anything for him?"

"I was meant to get to Mance's camp, figure how many fighters they had and where they were to march. He trusted me, because I'm not exactly loved by Mance, you could say." I lied as confidently as I could.

"And why would the the First Ranger send a wildling and not inform anyone?"

"I don't know," I smirk knowingly, "maybe he didn't trust you?"

"Careful," the Half-hand's companion warns, moving his blade up my neck.

"I left Craster's Keep not long after you did, I was meant to get myself to Mance's camp but I didn't know the way well and thought it might be easier to travel with others so I got myself here, until you came and ruined it all." I explained the fabrication well, adding the right amount of exasperation and anger to my voice.

"And when was the last time you spoke to the First Ranger?" He tries to keep his voice casual but it is clear that he wants information from me.

"A couple weeks ago, the last time I saw him were in the Haunted Forest." I told him, one truth amidst a web of lies and the sword is moved away from my neck. I touch the place his sword left and look over at Red and nod slightly, attempting to reassure her.

They look at each other. "What did he look like, this man you saw?" The boy carrying the sword sheathes it back by his side.

I tried to remember the details of what he looked like, I only saw him briefly. "Long black hair," I recalled, furrowing my brows for more details, "he looked like him, only older."

Somewhere not far off, I heard a small rustle. A familiar sound. One of paws on snow. A smile threatened to break across my face. Behind me I heard a soft growl. I watched their faces as they looked past me, to the wolf advancing behind me and I stood up. The rest canvassed around in a rough semi circle, silent and prowling.

I sighed with relief, pushing myself to my feet and walked over to the axe on the floor and cutting my ropes off and then walking over to Red to do the same.

"Did you lie, about the First Ranger?" The black haired crow asks me, as I hacked off the ropes that the crows wrapped around her hands.

I turn to face him. "No, I didn't. I saw him, right before a Walker stabbed him through the heart and he bled out on the forest floor. Kept saying something about being First Ranger before that though. We're leaving now, if you knew what's best, you'd go back south before you end up just like him."

The wolves seemed reluctant to leave without blood being shed but I touched the black fur of Night and once she retreated, the rest backed away slowly, not turning their backs with their haunches raised and teeth snapping deadly warnings.