BLOODLINES ↠ JON SNOW

XVII. WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

XVII. WHEN THE DEAD COME KNOCKING

COLD WIND WHISPERED AROUND THEM, SENDING WARNINGS OF WHAT LAY AHEAD. Amodera had lived through those winds; she'd been raised in them -- but it didn't make them any less biting. With every step they took further north, the winds grew harsher, the snows grew deeper, and the feeling of danger lingering on the horizon grew ever more severe. Alas, they pushed on, ignoring the cries of nature. If they were to win against the dead, they needed to win over the living.

"Glad to be home?" Jon questioned dryly, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips in an attempt to lighten her mood.

She couldn't help the hint of a smile weaving its way across her face at the sight of his own. "Not exactly."

Tormund, who had been scouting ahead of the group, prowled back over to them, a finger upon his lips to symbol for their silence. A frown formed upon Amodera's face as she watched him, before the feeling of dread in her stomach began to stir. They were here.

The pair followed Tormund to the ledge ahead of them, praying for the gods to be on their side. In the valley beneath them, a group of Wights marched silently behind a White Walker. Amodera bit the inside of her cheek, eyebrows furrowed as she watched the group, before sinking back down behind the rocks. "Where are the rest of them?"

"Wait long enough and we'll find out." Tormund replied, his voice filled with warning.

Amodera turned to Jon, arching an eyebrow. It was dangerous, but it was all they had. Better to face a group than to face them all. Jon nodding, moving from the position back to the rest of the raiding party. They set their plan in motion, working as quickly as the cold would let them. Then, all they had to do was wait.

The fire they'd started enticed the White Walker as planned, bringing it and the Wights further into the valley. As it began looking around, Jon turned to the group -- gifting them a single nod before running out to face their enemy. Amodera pulled her sword from it's sheath, running out just seconds behind him as the rest of their raiding party followed. Jon lunged at the White Walker as the rest of them attacked the Wights. Running next to him, Amodera blocked a blow from the White Walker before it hit Jon -- gifting him a cocky smile before spinning round and splitting in two a Wight about to attack her back. Jon swung his sword as she did, catching the Walker off-guard as he slammed his sword through its chest. As the creature turned to ice and smashed to pieces, the Wights around them too fell to the ground. Only one remained, blue eyes glaring as they circled it. Tormund threw his weapon to the floor; smacking the creature across the face until it fell down. Ser Jorah and the Hound pounced on the creature before it let out a deafening shriek of protest. As they worked to silence it, Amodera looked over at Jon -- whose eyes were wide as they searched the area. He met her gaze, being greeted with the same look of concern as his own. It hadn't just been a shriek of protest; it had been a warning call.

Swarms of pallid clouds formed on the horizon, inching towards them like a tsunami. Amodera had seen this before, at Hardhome, and it sent chills through her very bones. As she met Jon's soft, mahogany eyes, she felt the same undeniable fear radiate from him; the fear she felt deep inside herself.

Jon turned to Gendry hastily, knowing what it would cost them if they delayed. "Run back to Eastwatch. Get a raven to Daenerys; tell her what's happened."

"I'm not leaving you." Gendry replied, shaking his head swiftly.

"You're the fastest. Go, now!" Gendry hesistated before nodding, running back the way they had came. Jon turned back, looking around desperately for anywhere for them to escape.