Lannister Blood

17 - Lands of Always Winter

The wind whips against our faces, making tears fall from my eyes as we enter the first part of our journey. My heart is beating fast, though I don't know if it's from fear or anticipation. All I can see is an icy blue ahead, as the blowing snow makes it impossible to see but a few feet in front of us. We're all wearing more layers than we did before. My bow and arrows are secured safely over my shoulder; the wolf dagger hidden in my torso and my sword hanging firmly on my hip. The new gloves I've acquired keep my fingers from growing numb so easily.

I hate to admit it, but the others were right. I'm a foreigner in the North. I'm a summer child. I've never experienced such harshness as of now. The wind chill is far worse beyond the Wall, as if waiting to claim your life within the slightest mistake. I'm told the winds will be less harsh the further we go but it seems like it will never die out. Regardless of my discomfort, I keep my mouth shut unless spoken to. It's easier for me to focus on my next step and I believe the others feel the same way.

Shards of ice protrude the smooth surface within a few feet ahead. We'll need to maneuver them to the best of our abilities. There is no way around them, only through. There's a moment's hesitation when we reach them as the others try to decipher the best way to go. I study the cracks and the spaces between the shards. We need a path that will not only hold the weight of a large man, but allow him to pass through.

I walk a few paces away from the men, carefully testing out a few crevices. I find a space that will allow someone three times my size to pass through and I tactically stomp my boot against the weak spots of the ice. Solid.

"This way," I say loudly to them over the wind.

I wave my hand before heading through myself, keeping my feet light and my knees slightly bent to brace for any impact. Speed, agility, light-footed. Those were what Rewan said were my best assets in a fight. He said it was something I would use the most in the journeys ahead. I can't help but think about him now.

When I finally reach the end of the long, jagged path, I turn to wait for the rest of the group. Gendry is the first one through and he barely gives me a second glance as I point to where he needs to step. Next is Beric and Thoros, then the Hound. They step gingerly where I point them to and make it safely through, though Sandor's weight causes the ice to shift slightly. A few more men come through before Tormund, who stumbles a bit. Then Ser Jorah, with Jon being the last to pass through the ice.

Jon motions for me to go first. I wave him to go on but he insists. I step through the ice and gesture to the area he should step, on the other side of the crack that has now formed in the ground. He follows my instructions until he's standing safely beside me. Then we all press further on.

After walking for a while, the winds die down and the sun comes out up above. The cold has only slightly lessened but we can see clearly for leagues up ahead. The men talk to their companions as we make our way toward the mountains, but I remain silent. Jon and Jorah talk about their fathers, Gendry confronts the Brotherhood about their treachery, and Tormund is apparently obsessed with Brienne of Tarth.

I wish I could send a raven to Robb, or rather him to me. I'm certain he'd like to know how we're all fairing out here. I doubt he even knows we've gone beyond the Wall.

I feel this heaviness weighing inside me as we move closer to the mountains. There's something sinister lurking there. I can feel the presence of our foe, whether it be the White Walkers or the Night King himself. It's the first time since Braavos that I've felt true fear. That in itself frightens me, but I keep my thoughts to myself.

"Are you all right, my lady? You look troubled."

I look up to see that I've walked to the front near Jorah and Jon. They look at me expectantly and I realize it's Ser Jorah who's spoken.