𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙍𝙎 (Game of Thrones)

𝙭𝙞𝙞𝙞.

The wind was howling. It was spooking the horses, making them restless. Vickon stood behind the Halfhand and Lord Commander Mormont, watching as the Halfhand pointed into the distance. "There," he said.

"Where?" Mormont replied.

"On that mountain."

"I don't see very well," Sam said from his place beside Vickon.

"A fire," Jon said.

The Halfhand turned to look at Jon, nodding. "There's a fire," he agreed. "The people sitting around it have better eyes than yours or mine. When they see us coming, that fire becomes a signal. Gives Mance Rayder plenty of time to throw a party in our honor."

"How many wildlings have joined him?" Mormont asked.

"From what we can tell, all of them," replied Qhorin.

That earned a few uneasy looks, but Qhorin just continued. "Mance has gathered them all like deer against the wolves. They're almost ready to make their move."

"Where?" asked Jon.

"Somewhere safe," Qhorin replied. "Somewhere south. Can't just march into their midst. And we can't wait for them here with nothing but a pile of stones to protect us."

"You saying we should fall back to the Wall?" Mormont asked.

Qhorin hesitated, nodding. "Mance was one of us once," he said. "Now he's one of them. He's gonna teach them our way of doing things. They'll hit us in force. And they won't run away when we hit back. They're gonna be more organized than before, more disciplined, more like us." He turned to face the men, voice rising. "So we need to be more like them, do things their way. Sneak in, kill Mance, and scatter them to the winds before they can march on the Wall. And to do that- -"

"We need to get rid of those lookouts," Mormont said.

"It's not a job for four hundred men," Qhorin said. "I need to move fast and silent. Harker, Stonesnake, Borba."

The three men stepped forward. Lord Commander Mormont nodded, taking Vickon by the shoulder and bringing him forward. "Take Vickon, too. You know him. He's joined you on occasion. He can do this."

Qhorin nodded. "All right," he said. "Then you'll be joining me."

Vickon offered a faint smile. "I'm honored," he said.

Jon rolled his eyes, stepping between Vickon and Mormont. "Lord Commander, I'd also like to join Lord Qhorin," he said.

A smile played at the Halfhand's face. "I've been called lots of things, but that might be my first Lord Qhorin," he said.

Mormont glanced back at Jon. "You're a steward, Snow, not a ranger," he said.

"I've fought and killed a wight," Jon answered. "How many rangers can say that?"

Qhorin raised an eyebrow. "He's the one?" he asked.

Mormont nodded, looking at Jon. "Aye. You killed a wight," he said. "You also let an old man beat you bloody and take your sword."

Vickon held back his laughter, even when the other men made no such efforts. "Craster?" Qhorin asked. "In the boy's defense, that's a tough old goat."

Sam hesitated before he stepped to Mormont's side. "I could take up Jon's duties while he's gone, my lord," he said. "It would be no trouble."

Mormont hesitated, looking between Jon, Qhorin, and Vickon. Qhorin offered a nod of agreement, and the matter was settled. Mormont sighed as he looked at Jon. "Well, I hope you make a better ranger than you do a steward."

Jon looked surprised even as Mormont encouraged, "Go on."

And so Jon did, shoving between Vickon and Qhorin and earning a raised eyebrow from the Halfhand, who looked at Vickon. "Bit of trouble between you two?" he asked.

Vickon stared after Jon, nodding slightly. "You could say that, yes."

"Well, best to get over it. No use in hating your brothers."

Vickon scoffed. "Tell him that."