THE NORTH BEYOND | JON SNOW

CHAPTER TEN.

Even when we had run more than I thought was possible with my frail figure, more than what my lungs could take, more than what my aching legs would allow, I still looked back. Still darted my eyes across the thick darkness that had descended at nightfall. Still huddled dangerously close to the burning embers of the fire, as if that would protect me. I needed Night. I needed to feel her fur, look into her eyes. I wondered where she was, if I was going to see her again, if she was eating properly. My turn at taking guard ended long ago but I didn't have the heart to wake either of the women sleeping by me. I tugged Red's bow closer to my chest. I always hated these, too much down to chance, no, give me a dagger to plunge into somebody's heart instead. The finality of it is oddly comforting for me. Burning is a luxury that we cannot afford, even the fire we didn't light fully, only enough to give off smoke to warm us.

When did all of this get so...fucked? When did I change from cherished and respected to despised and hunted? When did I end up on the run from pale blue eyed monsters, my own people, Craster, dogs, for fucks sake, dogs. From Craster's it was south to the Wall, I know that, but Red still doesn't have her boots and now we have a stray with us too. Another stomach, another person to look after, even more responsibility. Not to mention the crows that were still lingering around most likely, marching on their idiot crow feet in a war they can't even hope of winning. I saw their measly host, if you could call it a host, looked like what Mance would send out for patrols at night. A death sentence, that's what they'll get if they don't march back to their southron homes.

I muffle my racking coughs into my fur clad arm. I can't go much longer without making it south now. I'm ill, weak from hunger, hunted on all sides and the Wall is the only way out. I lie back, close to the warm smoke and look up. The sky is the darkest hue of blue, a pale crescent stands defiantly amid misty clouds. And then nothing. No stars. Just the vast abyss of that dark blue-almost black colour. Maybe the sky will be different on the other side. Maybe I'll never know if the sky is different. I turned to grab my bag.

Nothing.

I reached over further.

Nothing. I patted myself all over.

Nothing.

Fuck. Where the fuck is...Craster's. It must have fell in the confusion with the dogs. With the dogs prowling, how am I to get it? Better yet, Craster will probably use the scent on the bag to encourage the dogs to actively search for me.

There's no way for me to get over the Wall. It's all gone. I'm going to die, one way or another. If the cold doesn't take me, the sickness will, is that fails, the Others have a more sure hand, should I miraculously make it through that, the hounds from hell whose mouths are salivating with the sureness of their next kill can make quick work of my body, though there won't be much meat for them to feast on, I'm sure I'll supply plenty of bones to gnaw on for the coming months.

I lay back and stare up at the night without stars. The clouds had shifted and now the moon was covered by thick, heavy mist. The sky had darkened to black, and the air was slow and calm, the night eerily silent.

By the time I'd notched an arrow loose, blood was spurting from Helga's neck and Red was being lifted up.

"You never were any good with the bow, shoulda left that to her." Rattleshirt sneered, when my arrow missed narrowly. "Looks like I'll be takin' three o' the traitors to Mance tonight. And this time," he leaned in real close, I could the soft clatter of bones touching as he bent, "you won't be escaping from me."