Death of duty

chapter 2

He reached out with a shakey hand for a Vail  on the bed side table, nearly knocking over a almost empty glass of wine. "Ghost" Jon calls instinctively as he hastily try's to open the bottle, his hopeful eyes searching his tiny hut for any signs of movement. The small joy he felt quickly fades from his face as he realizes he is alone. He took a drink from the bottle as he heard a faint rumble in the distance, a storm approaching Jon thought as he lay back in bed, his hand subconsciously tracing over the 7 scars that cover his chest. A gentle wind could be heard from outside that seem to whisper Jon's name as it blew over his hut. The rain wont be long now Jon said with a sly smile as he reached for the glass of wine, his thoughts on Ghost. How long has it been since he had seen his friend, he wondered as he drained what little wine was left. "I'll see him soon enough" Jon said anxiously as he traced one of his scars with his finger. He could still see their faces, hear their words. "For the watch" they had said as each blade entered his body. Allister Throne, Bowen Marsh, yarwyck, Oilly, two others that once called him brother. Jon's thoughts lingering on oilly, the intense single-minded focus, the way his mouth was twisted into a snarl. A look of pure hate Jon recalled. He wondered what she had seen reflected on his face the day his dagger found her. A loud boom roused Jon from his thoughts, as the sound of thunder rumbled throughout his hut. The rain will come soon Jon thought as he took a deep drink from the vial containing the milk of the poppy. This must be the pain she felt as my knife meet her flesh, Jon thought as his trembling hands fell to his side. Was it his betrayal or blade that took her life he wondered as his dagger slipped from his hand. He lay there trying to remember her face as the strom outside grow louder. His eyes flitting open and close with each ragged breath he took. A roar of thunder so loud it must have came from within his hut he thought as he closed his eyes to a dreamless sleep. "What have you done" screamed Tormund as he stumbles through the busted door. "Jon" he yelled in a rush as he charged through the room franticly trying to get to his friend. A sinking feeling of panic came over him when he saw the bloody knife resting on the floor. He stood frozen with fear as the realization of what Jon had done. Weeping, Tormund collapses beside his dead friend. With quivering hands he covers Jon with a white wolf pelt..... (What did everyone think? This is the first time that I have written anything, so any feedback is welcome. THANKS)