𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

"How many horses have we found?" Mance looked to Harma Dogshead.

"More'n a hundred." That huge women replied. "Less than two. There's more dead to the east, under the snow, hard t' know how many." Behind her stood her banner bearer, holding a pole with a dog's head on it, fresh enough to still be leaking blood.

"You should have never lied to me, lads." Said Mance.

"We know that." What could they say? The Wildling king studied his face.

"Who had the command here? And tell me true. Was it Rykker? Smallwood? Not Wythers, he's too feeble. Whose tent was this?" He'd said too much.

"You did not find his body?" Torsten asked.

"What fools these black crows be." Harma snorted, her disdain frosting from her nostrils.

"The next time you answer me with a question, I will give you to my Lord of Bones." Mance Rayder promised Torsten. He stepped closer. "Who led here?" One more step, thought Jon. Another foot. Jon moved his hand closer to Longclaw's hilt.

"Reach up for that bastard sword and I'll have your bastard head off before it clears the scabbard." Mance moved his attention towards Jon, who stood silently, observing, behind Torsten. "I am fast losing patience with you, crows." Said Mance.

"Say it." Tormund urged. "He's dead, whoever he was." His frown cracked the blood on his cheek. This is too hard, Torsten thought in despair. How do I play the turn cloak without becoming one? But the second step is always easier than the first.

"The Old Bear." Torsten said truthful.

"The old man?" Harma's tone said she did not believe him. "He came himself? Then who commands at Castle Black?"

"Bowen Marsh." This time Torsten answered at once. Mance laughed.

"If so, our war is won. Bowen knows a deal more about counting swords than he's ever known about using them." Said Mance.

"The Old Bear commanded." Said Torsten. "This place was high and strong, and he made it stronger. He dug pits and planted stakes, laid up food and water. He was ready for..."

"...Me?" Finished Mance Rayder. "Aye, he was. Had I been fool enough to storm this hill, I might have lost five men for every crow I slew and still counted myself lucky." His mouth grew hard. "But when the dead walk, walls and stakes and swords mean nothing. You cannot fight the dead, lads. No man knows that half so well as me." He gazed up at the darkening sky. "The crows may have helped us more than they know. I'd wondered why we'd suffered no attacks. But there's still a hundred leagues to go, and the cold is rising. Varamyr, send your wolves sniffing after the wights, I won't have them taking us unawares. My Lord of Bones, double all the patrols, and make certain every man has torch and flint. Styr, Jarl, you ride at first light."

"Mance." Rattleshirt said. "I want me some crow bones." Ygritte stepped in front of Jon.

"You can't kill a man for lying to protect them as was his brothers." She argued.

"They are still their brothers." Declared Styr.

"They're not." Insisted Ygritte. "He never killed me, like they told him. And he slew the Halfhand, we all saw." Torsten's breath misted the air. If we lie to him, he'll know, thought Torsten. He looked Mance Rayder in the eyes, opened and closed his burned hand.

"We wear the cloak you gave us." He said. Mance nodded.

"Torsten, you'll go with Tormund on the morrow, Jon you'll stand with me." Mance announced.

"Go where?" Said Torsten.

"Over the Wall. It's past time you proved your faith with something more than words, Snow." Tormund was not pleased, he could no longer trust Torsten.

"What do I want with a crow?" Tormund asked, and Torsten felt his chest tighten.

"He knows the Watch and he knows the Wall." Said Mance. "And he knows Castle Black better than any raider ever could, probably even better than any crow. You'll find a use for him, or you're a fool." Tormund scowled.

"His heart may still be black." Said Tormund.

"Then cut it out, and throw him over the Wall, see if crows can fly." Mance turned to Rattleshirt. Torsten's eyes lingered on Tormund's own.

"We're finally going to war, old friend." Tormund asked, the toothy smile on his cracked lips only growing all the more menacing.

"Hide near Castle Black. When I give the signal, hit them in the night. They've got a big old wall to hide behind, but it only guards the one side." Mance Rayder informed.

"We'll meet again." Tormund told the King beyond the Wall.

"Aye. If you do your job." Mance Rayder sniggered at the Giantsbane.

"Har!" Tormund laughed.

"How will we see your signal?" Orell questioned.

"Send your eagle above the Wall every night. When it's time, I'm going to light the biggest fire the North has ever seen." Mance paused to look back towards Rattleshirt. "My Lord of Bones, keep the column moving at all costs. If we reach the Wall before Mormont, we've won."

"They'll move." Rattleshirt's voice was thick and angry. Mance nodded, and walked away.
Varamyr's wolves and shadow cat followed behind. Torsten and Tormund were left with Jarl, Orell, and Rattleshirt. The two older Wildlings looked at Torsten with ill-concealed rancor.

"You heard, we ride at daybreak. Bring all the food you can, there'll be no time to hunt. And have your face seen to, crow. You look a bloody mess." Jarl sniggered, Rattleshirt's hand rested on his sword.

"I will." Said Torsten.
Atop the stones of the ringwall, Ghost hunched with white fur bristling. He made no sound, but his dark eyes spoke blood. The Lord of Bones moved his hand slowly away from his sword, backed off a step, and left them with a curse. When Jon's calls echoed through the ringwall, Ghost disappeared.

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