BLOODLINES ↠ JON SNOW

XVI. HOME

"This is madness." The Wildling woman stated, shaking her head with a smile playing on her lips.

Jon sighed, his breath hovering in the icy air. "Perhaps. But necessary madness."

Amodera grimaced, nodding to him before huddling into the warmth radiating off his chest. The Wildling glanced past him to the shivering shape of Gendry, unable to hold in her laugh. "I take it you've never been north before."

The man turned to her, two dark eyes peering out from a bundle of furs. "Never seen snow before." He mumbled, the sound trembling on the wind.

Tormund appeared next to him, a grin playing on his lips. "Beautiful, isn't it?  I can breathe again. Down south the air smells like pig shit."

Jon turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. "You've never been down south."

"We've been to Winterfell."

"That's the north." Jon replied incredulously. Amodera looked over at Tormund and shrugged; it was south to them at least.

《》

As the winds began to pick up, blurring the path before them, the party closed ranks -- for warmth as well as defence. One of the Wildlings Amodera knew as Isaiah went ahead to scout, becoming a hazy figure in the distant snow. Amodera looked up at him, before her eyes caught sight of something coming towards them. "What is that?" She cried out, her fingers curling across the pommel of her sword.

The group came to a halt; Tormund stepping forward to get a better look. "A bear." He stated, eyebrows furrowed. "Big fucker."

Amodera felt her stomach drop as the bear stopped a few hundred metres away, it's eyes glowing with a deathly azure glare. "Do bears have blue eyes?" Gendry questioned, panic catching in his throat.

"Isaiah!" Amodera yelled to the soldier, who turned abruptly and ran back towards the group. The Commander drew her sword when, out of nowhere, the bear appeared -- lunging out of the snow-choked wind and batting Isaiah out the way as if he was nothing but air. Amodera's breath caught in her throat, eyes widening at the savage beast drawing ever closer. And yet, despite what she had seen, only one thought rung in her head -- protect Jon.

The group sprinted over to where Isaiah's body had fallen, being greeted with nothing but a bloody corpse. Jon turned, looking over at Amodera silently, though his eyes said a thousand things -- are you alright, be safe, I love you. Amodera grabbed his hand, squeezing it softly before holing up her sword; the remaining group forming a circle.

Silence bore into their skulls; tension filling the cold air. But, within seconds, the bear appeared again -- breaking the circle as it plunged its fangs into another Wildling soldier. Jon sprinted forwards, slashing at the beast, before he swatted him aside like a fly. "Jon!" Amodera cried out, running over to where he laid in the snow.

"I'm okay," he groaned, as she wrapped her arm around him and pulled him upright. Amodera turned at the sight of fire, her gaze landing upon Thoros of Myr and Beric Dondarrion charging at the beast with their swords aflame. They pounced on it -- their blades setting the beast on fire with a single swipe.

Amodera pulled Jon onto his feet, as the creature took a final charge towards the man they called the Hound. She could see the fear in his eyes, as clear as a reflection in the clear ice lakes of Hardhome. Thoros stumbled forward, shoving the Hound from the creatures grasp as it turned and clamped it's sharp teeth around his sword. Amodera and Tormund ran forward, slicing at the beast, before it swiped at them with one giant paw -- throwing them across the ice.

Amodera watched in horror as the bear threw the sword aside, beginning to devour Thoros's unguarded stomach. His screams floated on the wind, like nails scratching at her ears. The Mormont man, Jorah, ran forward and stabbed the beast in its thick neck with a dagger. It turned and gave a final triumphant cry before falling still.

Jon and Beric pulled Thoros from beneath the beast -- his stomach ripped beneath the furs. Amodera walked over slowly, shaking her head. This had been a mistake, she'd know so from the start. Death was the only winner here.

"We have to get him back to Eastwatch." Jorah stated solemnly, looking around at the meagre remains of their raiding party.

"Flask." Thoros stated, to which Beric swiftly handed him the calf-skin flask tied to his hip. He looked up at Beric, pulling open the furs to reveal his mangled chest. "Go on."

Beric sat back, clenching his jaw, before taking his flaming sword and placing it atop Thoros chest. Amodera could smell the burning skin; a scent you grew all too familiar with when you were forced to burn your dead.

Beric removed his sword, tucking his friends furs across his chest once again. "Are you alright?"

"I just got bit by a dead bear." He stated through his clenched teeth.

"Aye, you did." Beric replied, unable to stop a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Funny old life."

Amodera turned, walking over to the corpses of the Wildlings that had died at the hands of the beast. Her people, who followed her into the depths of Hell, had died once again. But she didn't have the strength to be angry; the winds stripped everything away. A hand buried it's way into her own, as she glanced across to see Jon standing next to her. The two stood in silence, staring at the snow-covered horizon, knowing the impending doom they grew ever closer to.

《》

AUTHOR'S NOTE;
I know it's been a while, but here you go. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please comment what you thought c:

Now, I have a super important question for you all. As we all know, Game of Thrones season 8 won't air until summer next year, but I only have 4 chapters left before I've finished season 7.
My question is, would you guys prefer if I spaced the chapters out so you don't have to wait as long for part 3 (aka season 8) or do you want regular updates and have to wait about 5 months for the season 8 chapters?

Thank you for all your support and patience! - CAT c: