CARPE NOCTEM, jon snow

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀twenty

twenty. what remains of the first men

loc. the first of the first men, beyond the wall. 299AC

⠀⠀⠀ CARSEN COULDN'T SAY she missed Craster or his Keep, but her stomach ached for hot food.

⠀⠀⠀They'd been ordered out by the vile man himself last night. She'd been jerked from her warm, heavy slumber by the door blasting open, Jon Snow beaten bloody thrown at her feet and Craster ordering them all out. Further and further North they walked, and the rain thickened to snow, and the black trees thinned until there were no trees at all, just white as far as the eye could see.

⠀⠀⠀Carsen knew where they were headed—the Fist of the First Men, a point in the wilderness beyond the Wall—far, far beyond the Wall, Carsen thought miserably. Her toes felt so numb that she likely wouldn't notice if they fell off inside her boots. She'd seen so much snow in the last three days she even dreamed of it, the cold touch of ice and loneliness it brought with that flat, pale landscape. There was only one good thing about being this far away from civilisation, and that was that there was no chance of being followed out here.

⠀⠀⠀Ever since that man had been at the Wall, Carsen had grown paranoid, so when Mormont told them they were travelling, she couldn't leave fast enough. There was still something about the way he lingered by her before exiting Mormont's office that felt like her flesh had been flipped inside out, but here was far too isolated for any stranger to follow.

⠀⠀⠀They'd abandoned their horses at Craster's Keep, the old man couldn't kick them out fast enough. So they walked on foot, through the miles and miles and untouched miles of snow, and Carsen was comforted only by the touches of dawn and sunset. She woke and slept with the sky - when the first raw streaks of pink lit the sky after twilight, and the last tint of blood-orange kissed the horizon, her eyes opened and closed.

⠀⠀⠀They walked now, and the sky was bleak and pale as clay; a long, melancholy procession all in black, a curving line standing out sharply against the grey snow. Carsen felt the numbness in her feet start to creep up her calves, as if she were being consumed by greyscale. She limped behind Jon and Commander Mormont, slightly in front of Sam, who staggered so often that he lagged behind permanently. He was ruddy-cheeked and constantly shivering, but still managed to keep a weak smile on his face whenever Carsen glanced back at him.

⠀⠀⠀Before her, Mormont and Jon were discussing Qhorin Halfhand. Despite only being a member of the Night's Watch for six or seven months, Carsen had heard all about the Halfhand. Rast said he spent half of last winter out in the wildnerness; a stableboy called Hogpy insisted that the man was actually half-giant, and that was how he was invincible to wildlings and their puny arrows, and a cook named Camron loudly yelled about how the Halfhand actually lost half his hand in a duel involving three wildings, a giant, and a boar the size of a cow. Carsen had long since opted not to listen to closely to the whisperings of Castle Black; most of it was folly.

⠀⠀⠀"He's not here yet," Mormont was telling Jon. "He'd have seen us, blown the horn."

⠀⠀⠀"When will he come?" Jon asked as he walked.

⠀⠀⠀Mormont huffed with laughter. "The Halfhand does things in his own time."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen quickly lost interest in their conversation. She was getting a mounting feeling that Qhorin Halfhand wouldn't live up to these high-bar expectations her brothers had set for him.

⠀⠀⠀"Beautiful, isn't it?" Sam chirped beside her, lumbering animatedly a few lurching steps forward. "Gilly'd love it here!"

⠀⠀⠀Carsen had to agree; the alpine tips of the mountains were dusted in diamond-bright snow that glinted silver in the weak, pallid sunlight. The raw opal shades of dawn streaked the sky behind the glittering snowcaps; even the snow underfoot had a certain beauty as it flared up in squat, shining arcs of pure ivory with each footfall.

⠀⠀⠀The Fist of the First Men jutted out from the gently sloping hills around it, like rock fingers grasping at the frigid air. They were put to work immediately, and Carsen hefted heavy armfuls of firelogs now so brittle with cold they would snap cleanly in two at the lightest touch. So she arranged them carefully, piling one atop of the other. She tried not to get distracted by Ghost, who prowled and leapt at his leisure, his ichor fur blending with the landscape at times. He was silent as a shadow, soft paws on soft ground, and still his red eyes gave Carsen that look, that look of distrust and loathing. She swallowed and turned away, feeling the direwolf slip away.

⠀⠀⠀Sam lumbered around the camp, babbling endlessly despite the complaints of Edd, while Jon stood near the edge of the cliff, staring out into the flat, white plains below. Carsen wanted more than anything to go up to him, talk to him, know what he was thinking for once. But she couldn't. She could never.

⠀⠀⠀She jumped as the morose, flat melody of a single horn blast glided over the camp. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grenn put a hand to the hilt of his sword. "Wildlings?"

⠀⠀⠀"One blast is rangers returning," Jon said. His eyes still hadn't left the empty space before him, the ground hundreds of feet below. "Wildlings is two."

⠀⠀⠀"So you've got to stand there," Edd said quietly. "Waiting. Wondering. One for friends, two for foes."

⠀⠀⠀There was a pause. "And three for white walkers."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen turned to look at Sam, and noticed everyone doing the same. Sam seemed to squirm under the sudden scrutiny but held his own. "It's been a thousand years, but that's the only time they blow the horn three times."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen swallowed, feeling oddly heavy all of a sudden. She wanted to collapse into the snow, lean back until her head touched the soft coldness, sleep until the stars were above her closed, unseeing eyes.

⠀⠀⠀"Look," Jon said suddenly, jolting Carsen from her reverie. "It's Qhorin Halfhand."

⠀⠀⠀Carsen looked; a lone, dark shape was moving slowly across the crystal-white plains toward them. Edd took a step forward and scoffed.

⠀⠀⠀"We live another day," the dark-haired man said, looking round at his brothers. "Hurrah."

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