𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙊𝙍𝙎 (Game of Thrones)

𝙭𝙞𝙫.

They trekked through the thick layer of snow, leaving heavy footprints in their wake. Vickon blinked back tears as the wind whipped past his face, stinging his cheeks. Up on a hill, Ghost was running, his red eyes the only visible part of him in the snowy landscape. "Ghost, stay with us," Jon called uselessly. "Ghost!"

The direwolf ignored his master, continuing on his adventure. "There goes your pet," Qhorin said.

"He's not a pet," Jon replied.

Qhorin nodded. "No, you're right, he's not. You can't tame a wild thing. You can't trust a wild thing."

"Ghost is different," said Jon.

"So you think. Wild creatures have their own rules, their own reasons. And you'll never know them."

Vickon nodded along in agreement, running his fingers through his hair. It was getting long again. He would need to hack it away soon enough, the moment he got his hands on some proper scissors.

"Now, the wildlings we're looking for sleep during the day and hunt at night," Qhorin was saying.

"I thought you said you couldn't know wild things," Jon pointed out.

"I said you can't," Qhorin corrected. "They find a nice cave to hide in while the sun's up, and do their killing when it's dark."

"We could do the same," Jon offered.

"No, we couldn't. This is their country. They know where to walk, where not to walk. I've lost good men who fell into a crevasse they didn't see till they were in it."

Jon nodded slowly. "My father always said I'm of the North," he said.

A chuckle left Qhorin at that statement. "I wasn't joking," Jon said.

Qhorin waved a hand toward the icy ground they walked on. "Look around, boy," he said. "This look like home to you? You start thinking you know this place, it'll kill you. You understand me?"

Jon nodded, and Qhorin let out a sigh. "No, you don't," he said. "We're at war. We've always been at war. It's never going to end 'cause we're not fighting an enemy. We're fighting the North and it's not going anywhere. The Watch has given you a great gift. You only have one thing to give in return- - your life."

"I'll gladly give my life," Jon said.

Qhorin rounded on him then, taking hold of Jon's arm. "I don't want you to be glad about it," he stated. "I want you to curse and fight until your heart's done pumping. And know this, boy- - your death will be a gift for them south of the Wall. They'll never know what you've done. They'll never know how you died. They won't even know your damn name, but they'll be alive because some nameless bastard north of the Wall gave his life for theirs. Now, do you understand me?"

"I do," Jon said.

Qhorin scoffed. "You're even dumber than you look," he said. "It's just words, boy, to keep us a little warmer in the night, make us feel like we've got a purpose." He let out a laugh, letting go of Jon's arm. "Come on. We've got to find these goat fuckers before night falls and they find us."

Jon stopped to watch Ghost disappear into the distance. When he started to walk again, Vickon fell in step with him. "A direwolf is no pet," he said to Jon, his tone measured. "You ought to have known that."