𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

𝟚

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Outside, the rain seemed to have slackened. Tents had gone up all over the compound. Torsten could see the tops of others under the tree. Edd was feeding the horses. "Give the Wildlings an axe, why not?" He pointed out Mormont's weapon, a short hafted battle axe with gold scrollwork inlaid on the black steel blade. "He'll give it back, I vow. Buried in the Old Bear's skull, like as not. Why not give him all our axes, and our swords as well? I mislike the way they clank and rattle as we ride. We'd travel faster without them, straight to hell's door. Does it rain in hell, I wonder? Perhaps Craster would like a nice hat instead." Torsten smiled at Edd's words.

"He wants an axe. And wine as well." Torsten said.

"See, the Old Bear's clever. If we get the Wildling well and truly drunk, perhaps he'll only cut off an ear when he tries to slay us with that axe. I have two ears but only one head." Edd began and Torsten couldn't help but smile. "Do you know the difference between a Wildling who's a friend to the Watch and one who's not?" Asked the dour squire. "Our enemies leave our bodies for the crows and the wolves. Our friends bury us in secret graves. I wonder how long that bear's been nailed up on that gate, and what Craster had there before we came hallooning." Edd looked at the axe doubtfully, the rain running down his long face. "Is it dry in there?" He asked.

"Drier than out here." Torsten answered, shifting his weight from one boot to the other.

"If I lurk about after, not too close to the fire, belike they'll take no note of me till the morrow. The ones under his roof will be the first he murders, but at least we'll die dry." Torsten had to laugh.

"Craster's one man. We're two hundred. I doubt he'll murder anyone." Torsten said.

"You cheer me." Said Edd, sounding utterly morose. "And besides, there's much to be said for a good sharp axe. I'd hate to be murdered with a maul. I saw a man hit in the brow with a maul once. Scarcely split the skin at all, but his head turned mushy and swelled up big as a gourd, only purply-red. A comely man, but he died ugly. It's good that we're not giving them mauls." Edd walked away shaking his head, his sodden black cloak shedding rain behind him.

Torsten got the horses fed before he stopped to think of his own supper. He was wondering where to find Jon when he heard a shout of fear. He sprinted around the hall towards the cry, the earth sucking at his boots. One of Craster's women was backed up against the mud spattered wall of the keep. "Keep away!" She was shouting at Ghost. The direwolf had a rabbit in his mouth and another dead bloody one on the ground before him. "You keep away!" She shrieked again. "Get it away m'lord." She pleaded.

"I'm no lord, he won't hurt you." Torsten knew at once what had happened, a wooden hutch, its slats shattered, laying on its side in the wet grass. "He must have been hungry. We haven't seen much game." Torsten whistled. The direwolf bolted down the rabbit, crunching the small bones between his teeth. "Ghost, to me." The direwolf padded over to him. The women regarded him with nervous eyes. She was younger than he'd thought at first. A girl of seventeen or eighteen years, he judged, dark hair plastered across a gaunt face by the falling rain, her bare feet muddy to the ankles. The body under the sewn skins was showing in the early turns of pregnancy, "Are you one of Craster's daughters?" He asked, she put her hand over her belly.

"Wife now." Edging away from the wolf, she knelt mournfully beside the broken hutch. "I was going to breed them rabbits. There's no sheep left." She sighed.

"The Watch will make good for them. I'll talk to Lord Mormont on the morrow." Torsten had no coin of his own, or he would have offered it to her... though he was not sure what good a few coppers or even a silver piece would do her beyond the Wall. Torsten hadn't once met the women's eyes and he didn't plan to.
Jon stood silently behind Torsten, he'd been drawn there by the screams. Torsten's hand dropped from Ghost's head as the direwolf padded over towards Jon.

"M'lord." The girl spoke upon Jon's arrival, she wiped her hands on her skirt.

"I'm no lord." Jon said, same as Torsten. But others had come crowding around, drawn by the woman's scream and the crash of the rabbit hutch.

"Don't you believe him, girl." Called out Lark the Sisterman, a ranger mean as cur. "That one's Lord Snow himself." He laughed.

"Bastard of Winterfell, and brother to Kings." Mocked Chett, who'd left his hounds to see what the commotion was about.

"That wolf's looking at you hungry, girl." Lark said. Torsten was not amused.

"You're scaring her." He snapped.

"Warning her, more like." Chett's grin was as ugly as the boils that covered most of his face.

"We're not to talk to you." The girl suddenly remembered. She bolted, ran. Lark made a grab for the second rabbit, but Ghost was quicker. When he bared his teeth, the Sisterman slipped in the mud and went down on his bony butt. The others laughed. The direwolf took the rabbit in his mouth and brought it to Jon.

"There was no call to scare the girl." Torsten told them.

"We'll hear no scold from you, bastard." Chett snarled. "You may be the Lord Commander's pet, but you're not the Lord Commander and you wouldn't talk so bloody bold without your little lover and his monster always about." Torsten only shook his head at his brother's words.

"I'll not fight a brother while we're beyond the Wall." Torsten said, his voice cooler than he felt. Lark got to one knee.

"He's afraid of you, Chett. On the Sisters, we have a name for them like him." Lark's gargling laugh made Torsten's eyes roll into the back of his head.

"I know all the names. Save your breath." Torsten walked away, Jon and Ghost at his side. The rain had dwindled to a thin drizzle by the time he reached the gate. Dusk would be on them soon, followed by another wet dark dismal night. The clouds would hide moon and stars and Mormont's Torch, turning the woods black as pitch.

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