𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

𝟚

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Torsten had never thought to find a stone castle on the far side of the Wall, but he had pictured some sort of motte and bailey with a wooden post and a timber tower keep. What they found instead was a midden heap, a pig sty, an empty sheepfold, and a windowless daub and wattle hall scarce worthy of the name. It was long and low, chinked together from logs and roofed with sod. The compound stood atop a rise too modest to name a hill, surrounded by an earthen embankment. On the southwest, he found an open gate flanked by a pair of animal skulls on high poles, a bear to one side, a ram to the other. Bits of flesh still clung to the bear skull, Torsten noted as he joined the line riding past.
Within, Jarmen Buckwell's scouts and men from Thoren Smallwood's van were setting up horse lines and struggling to raise tents. A host of piglets rooted about three huge sows in the sty. Nearby, a small girl pulled carrots from a garden, naked in the rain, while two women tied a pig for slaughter. The animal's squeals were high and horrible, almost human in their distress. Chett's hounds barked wildly in answer, snarling and snapping despite his curses, with a pair of Craster's dogs barking back. When they saw Ghost, some of the dogs broke off and ran, while others began to bay and growl. The direwolf ignored them, as did Torsten and Jon. "Well, thirty of us will be warm and dry." Torsten whispered to Jon once they'd gotten a good look at the hall.

"Perhaps as many as fifty." Jon nodded. The place was much too small to sleep two hundred men, so most would need to remain outside. The rain had turned half the compound yard to ankle deep puddles and the rest to sucking mud. Another gloomy night was in view. The Lord Commander had entrusted his mount to Edd. He was cleaning mud out of the horse's hooves as Torsten dismounted.

"I was born in a place like this. Later I fell on hard times." Edd explained, while Samwell and the rest of the brother's joined them.

"Are those girls?" Samwell asked, eyes basically bulging from their sockets.

"Craster's daughters." Torsten told the boy who continued to eagerly look around at them.

"I haven't seen a girl in six months." Torsten gagged at the way Samwell's eyes sparkled while looking at all the women around them.

"I'd keep not seeing them if I was you." Torsten told the fat boy.

"What? He doesn't like people messing with his daughters?" Samwell asked, Torsten let a dry laugh drift over the boys head.

"He doesn't like people messing with his wives." Torsten explained. "He marries his daughters, and on and on it goes." Samwell's face had scrunched into an unpleasant look.

"That's foul." Samwell said earning himself a sour taste in his mouth.

"It's beyond foul." Grenn added, looking just as disgusted as the others.

"All the other Wildlings for a hundred leagues have disappeared. Craster's still here, he must be doing something right." Edd said while Torsten's eyes only narrowed as he looked around at all the women.

"What happens to the boys?" He asked Edd.

"Hm?" Samwell muttered, now turning his attention back to Torsten instead of the women around them.

"He marries his daughters. What does he do with his sons?" Jon explained, understanding where Torsten was going.

"Do you see a single boy who isn't a man of the Night's Watch?" Torsten asked and Samwell could only shake his head.

"Well... no." Samwell replied when he realised Torsten was right.

"I wonder why that is." Torsten said while his brother's all shared looks, eager to find out what was going on.

"Lord Mormont's in the hall." Edd suddenly announced. "He said for the two of you to join him. Best leave the wolf, Jon. He looks hungry enough to eat one of Craster's children." He said.

"I'm hungry enough to eat one of Craster's children." Torsten muttered.

"Here, here." Edd agreed. "Go on, I'll see to your horses. If it's warm and dry inside, don't tell me, I wasn't asked in." He flicked a glob of wet mud from under a horseshoe. "Does this mud look like shit to you? Could it be that this whole hill is made of Craster's shit?" Torsten smiled.

"Well, I hear he's been here a long time." Torsten snorted.

"You cheer me not. Go see the Old Bear." Edd only shook his wet head.

"Ghost, stay." Jon commanded.
The door to Craster's Keep was made of two flaps of deer hide. Torsten shoved between them, stooping to pass under the low lintel. Two dozen of the chief rangers had preceded him, and were standing around the fire pit in the centre of the dirt floor while puddles collected about their boots. The hall stank of soot, dung, and wet dog. The air was heavy with smoke, yet somehow still damp. Rain leaked through the smoke hole in the roof. It was all a single room, with a sleeping loft above reached by a pair of splintery ladders.
Torsten remembered how he'd felt the day they had left the Wall, nervous as a maiden, but eager to glimpse the mysteries and wonders beyond each new horizon. And here was one of the wonders, gazing about the squalid, foul smelling hall. The acrid smoke was making his eyes water.

"A pity Pypar and Toad can't see all they're missing." Torsten whispered to Jon, making the older smile.
Craster sat above the fire, the only man to enjoy his own chair. Craster's sheepskin jerkin and cloak of sewn skins made a shabby contrast, but around one thick wrist was a heavy ring that had the glint of gold. He looked to be a powerful man, though well into the winter of his days now, his mane of hair grey going to white. A flat nose and a drooping mouth gave him a cruel look, and one of his ears was missing. "So this is a Wildling." Torsten whispered, more to himself than Jon, yet the older nodded none the less. Torsten remembered Old Nan's tale of the savage folk who drank blood from human skulls. Craster seemed to be drinking a thin yellow beer from a chipped stone cup. Perhaps he had not heard the stories.

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