Episode one: A Cold Whisper {Game of Thrones} (COMPLETED)

Harley

He was a stupid one, the red head.

Harley couldn't understand why he didn't attack her, or call for his friends, before she had the chance. He could have killed her easily. Why didn't he?

Gregor, Mikah and Erik stood behind her, threateningly, glaring at the two crows.
Erik sighed heavily from Harley's left.
"Well then, who the fuck are you?"

The crows flinched.

"We - we're just - we were looking to join you - we want to be part of the freefolk." spoke the man with the red hair.

Erik laughed harshly.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he mumbled, "why would two young crows like you want to join the freefolk. Your people have been fighting us for centuries. Don't you even respect that at all?"

The crow hesitated. He was about to reply, when another, unrecognisable voice spoke for him.
"They aren't our people," spoke the voice, "I don't believe any of us actually wanted to be part of the nights watch in the first place."

A small, thin boy crept out of the trees along with a tall man who looked almost identical to the crow that stood beside the red haired man. The two crows continued to advance toward their friends until they stood beside the other crows in the small clearing. He continued, "nights watch is boring, not my way of living."

Erik's hand rested on the hilt of his steel war hammer.

"Should we trust them?" Gregor, who was slightly smaller than Erik, with soft hazel eyes and a battle scar that started at his jaw and went along the left side of his face all the way up to his left eye, whispered to the others.

"We'll take them to Mance, he can decide what to do with 'em."

But before they could agree, Harley sensed something moving behind the small group of crows, in the shadows by the trees.

And once again, all hell broke lose.

An arrow came flying towards her head. Harley dived out of the way, but the arrow still managed to scrape away the flesh on the top of her left shoulder. Blood appeared through her garments quickly and her shoulder seared with an intense pain.

She yelled out, now down on all fours in the freezing cold, snowy ground.
She could see Erik's boots crunching through the snow toward the source of the arrow fire.

She could hear the men yelling as more arrows came flying from beyond the small clearing, amidst the trees.

She struggled to her feet with the help of a rather bulky looking, rough man.
"You okay?" roared the man helping her up, who she soon recognised to be the red haired crow.

Harley was too paralysed to reply. The man ran with her away from the commotion, and threw her down by a tree on the north side of the clearing, as far from the fighting as possible.

"Stay down!" he howled, before sprinting back to where the others stood fighting.

Harley watched from afar as the red haired crow joined the rest of the crows and freefolk, fighting what appeared to be a group of wights, yet again.

Harley caught a glimpse of Erik beating a human skeleton into the snow beneath him with his war hammer. He had a fierce look on his face. His eyes were lit up in a fury and his hair and beard were wild and scraggy. Harley remembered when she used to love that. When she would run her fingers through his mess of hair and grip it tightly while he made love to her. She watched him absentmindedly while he fought the dead men ferociously. Her shoulder ached terribly, and her eyes started losing focus.

Gregor fought beside the lookalike crows, fending off what seemed to be a dead wildling. Her hair was long and brown, her face torn apart all the way down to her neck, with a gaping hole were her neck should have met her shoulder.