OF CLAWS & BEAKS ( jon snow.. )

001 ━ blowing the horn three times..

          "NIGHT GATHERS, AND NOW MY WATCH BEGINS." The eerie presence of the Wall loomed somewhere far behind the thicket of the haunted forest they had walked with their escort of rangers to the clearing of nine weirwoods. 

The night was upon them, embracing the the ominous hum of this unusual land, taking away from it all of the smallest reassembly Jon had found with the Wolfswood around Winterfell. He missed those woods, that keep, more than he would like to admit and fortunately, his mouth was as much of a mouthful with his vows as was Sam's. That night, before the eyes of the Old Gods and amidst their tenderly sifted snowflakes, storming their slowed rain, Jon Snow and Samwell Tarly would become men of the Night's Watch. 

"It shall not end until my death," both boys spoke at the same time, with the same seriousness and passion, though at least one of them had had considerable doubts about whether or not he truly belonged under oaths of this nature, under the commands of such people. But then, in a slap of realization between Dareon and Sam's reasoning with him, he had reminiscence that he wouldn't have truly belonged anywhere else.

"I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post," they spoke on two nuances the vows. Sam was mourning a life he'll never have, while Jon was looked on proudly at the face of the tree, thinking noth of any of the words standing for all he was giving up on. Though so different in their demeanor, both boys felt watched, surrounded by the ancient forces that purged these lands for times so far away they seemed impossible to phantom. The Old Gods were witnesses to these vows. 

"I am the sword in the darkness." The rangers behind them shifted in their posture and the creak of the leather hit against their sword sheaths. "I am the watcher on the walls." Picking up, the winds dusted through the falling snow and whistled terrible screams against the icy heights of the Wall. 

"I am the fire that burns against the cold," and the torch carried by one of their escorts flickered in response, "the light that brings the dawn," auburn kissed the white wood between its cracks of crimson, "the horn that wakes the sleepers," in the distance, a horn's blow had sounded so very ghostly, making the escorting rangers turn their heads to the side, "the shield that guards the realms of men," Sam and Jon had ended nonetheless. "I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come."

It was done.

"You knelt as boys," one of the rangers spoke, halfheartedly weary of the sound of a horn. To his knowledge, no one was expected to return that day, not even Benjen's horse, bearing the marks of saddening news so early in their morning. But then again, Dromen was hardly attunened to all which happened or was supposed to happen at Castle Black. Chewing on spit, he sighed, looking down with mournful pride at another pair of young lads swearing away their lives. Their destiny now belonged to these odd woods, threading dreams and nightmares alike. "Rise now as men of the Night's-"

A second horn blow froze his words into his throat. Sam flinched. No matter how heavy his movements, he was up on his feet before Jon even assimilated what his friend was about to blurt out in the squeamish terror, "Wildlings!"

"Impossible," Dromen's usual partner in trips north of the Wall, Brack, tensed up through a sneer. He was reaching, quite naturally, for the sword, when a third horn blow quivered the night and froze the men in their clearing.

One blow was for rangers returning. Two for wildlings.

Sam paled, "Isn't three for White Walkers?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jon snapped at him, though his eyes were drawn to look back at the darkness surrounding the weirwoods. He wasted no time in whistling for Ghost, his direwolf, previously so thrilled about running in the cold wilderness, to return.