Falling Like ✸ Jon Snow ✔

10| 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

the fist of the first men, north of the wall

— THE BLIZZARD HIT NOT LONG AFTER THE HALFHAND REACHED THE FIST. It wasn't too bad, actually quite mild considering how far North they were. Still, it was damn near impossible to spot whatever the Halfhand was pointing at through the wind and snow.

"There."

Mormont frowned. "Where?"

"On that mountainside."

Sam sighed behind them. "I don't see very well."

"A fire," Jon and Nymeria spoke up in unison.

They glanced at each other, then back at the Halfhand who was now looking at them.

He nodded. "A fire. 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 honour."

"How many wildlings have joined him?" The Commander asked.

"From what we can tell? All of them."

So Craster was right, much as Nymeria hated the thought. All the wildlings as a single force... no lord or king south of the wall had such numbers.

"Mance has gathered them all like deer against the wolves. They're almost ready to make their move."

"Where?" Jon asked.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere south. We 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."

Mormont frowned. "You're saying we should fall back to the Wall?"

Qhorin shook his head slightly. "Mance was one of us once. 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 organised than before, more disciplined. More like us." He turned back to the group. "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," Nymeria finished.

He nodded. "It's not a job for 400 men. I need to move fast. And silent. I want you with me, Nymeria. And Harker, Stonesnake, Borba!" He called.

Jeor looked hesitant for a second, locking eyes with Nymeria to be sure she was confident about doing this. He found nothing but determination in her eyes.

Meanwhile, pride bloomed in her chest at being the first one Qhorin selected to join him. She knew she was better than most at the Wall, worked ten times harder, a hundred times harder. But the Halfhand didn't fuck around. Which meant he trusted not only her skill, but her instincts and wits too.

"Alright," he agreed.

"Lord Commander," Jon piped up. "I'd like to join Lord Qhorin."

The Halfhand smirked. "I've been called lots of things, but that might be my first Lord Qhorin."

A few of the men laughed.

"You're a steward, Snow," Mormont reminded him. "Not a ranger."

"I fought and killed a wight. How many rangers can say that?"

"He's the one?" Qhorin's voice was laced with disbelief, and something that sounded dangerously similar to a touch of respect.

Jeor nodded. "Aye, you killed a wight. You also let an old man beat you bloody and take your sword."