Soft ground beneath her paws. A chill within the air. A whisper of ending summers and coming winters. A whispers of a whisper she once knew. She rose her head and howled, long and longing. Her pack joined in, a hundred howls rising, a terrifying tribute to the stars.

She started to run. Run, run, run. Even though she knew that running couldn't cease her fears, it could at least dim them. Dim them down until only a lost memory. Or so she thought. For a time the feeling was gone, she concentrated on hunting. All of them as one, one being, one wolf. As they feasted the chill caught her again. Through her thick fur, it cut. She shivered, looking around, sniffing the air. Nothing but fresh blood and pine and wolf. A faint scent of men-cubs. And steel claws. But nothing close, nothing that would harm them. She wanted to start eating again when she felt it.

Clear like the moon, cold like snow, hot like fire. Even though she had surrounded herself with hundredths of wolfs, she still sensed her brothers. Her real brothers. Those, she had played and fought with. Run around. And howled. And hunted game. The ones she grew up with. Her brothers… once they had been one more. But her sister was gone. The same night she was cast away. She hadn't thought of them in years. Yet here they were, clear like they had seen each other hours prior. As if she just had gone out on a run and returned home.

She rose her ears, waiting, listening. One of her brothers… one…

The she-wolf snarled and showed her teeth. Her wolf-pack looked at her, who was she growling at? There was nothing but cold air and pine and blood.

Hundreds and hundreds of miles away the air was even colder, the air was full of wood and earth and men and children. The wolf snarled though, just like his sister did a thousand dreams away. Something else mingled with the known scents. Something sweet and dead and even colder than the air itself.

A moment later he saw what he had already smelled. Dead walking. Running. Attacking them. He growled and ripped the first dead into pieces, feeling it still move between his fangs. He knew such by now, those walking dead. The female man-cub grabbed her steel claw but thought other. She twirled around, shaking the male man-cub.

"Bran! Bran! Wake up!" A second of silence. He had the second dead thing between his yaws, shredding it to pieces while backing away from the moving hand. It may not catch his throat, else it may strangle him to death.

"Hodor!" the female man-cup screamed. "Hodor, we have to get out!"

A child used its fire-light beside him, burning the dead things coming for them. A wall of fire hiding them roared up. Protecting them. He knew those by now. Children could work such things. But he knew better than to rest. The smell colder than the air came closer. He backed away a paw, then another. A growl left his body. Deep and cold and… fearful.

"Bran! You have to warg into Hodor! We need him!"

The wall of fire disappeared as the thing colder than air, colder than ice, walked through it. Its smell was… he hadn't ever smelled it. It was no human, no dead, just colder than ice, dark and bad and something else. Something he had never smelled and hoped to never smell. The thing didn't wear a steel claw like men, but a spear made of… it was no ice. It looked like such, but his senses told him otherwise. It was more than anything this world could ever hope. It was death forged into a weapon.

The child threw its spear and the thing colder than ice shattered. Sprang into a thousand pieces like the ice it may have been once. After it, however, more dead followed. He could smell dead everywhere. They were digging through the earth above them.

"Hodor!" He threw a glance. The big man had gotten up, grabbed Bran and placed him on his sled. They had traveled like that when they came here years ago.

"Come, Summer!" the female man-cup yelled and an instant later he was by her side. More of those things were coming, those things colder than ice. Some many paws along the way he stopped. He watched while the big man, the female man-cup and Bran made their way, running towards a way out of this earth-cave. They could get out. They would survive. But not unless…

"Summer!" he heard his name, but this time he didn't follow her voice. He knew what they didn't. Too many dead. They wouldn't make it. They wouldn't be able to leave this place. So Summer turned around, teeth bared and snarling, jumping into the wall of dead following them. He ripped one of those apart, while the others ripped him to pieces. He could feel how their claws and jaws dug into his fur, his flesh, his all. The pain was short and hot and gone.

Like in a distant memory a howling wolf.

After he was gone she remained. Floated. She couldn't see. Couldn't smell. Couldn't feel. There was nothing. Nothing at all. Nothing was soothing after the pain of dying. Nothing could be endured. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, in this state of not being. Maybe it was just a second, maybe hours, maybe days or years or even winters.

Suddenly, the state of nothing changed. She felt like flying. On dark wings (which brought dark words) a memory. Yes. That was a memory. But no. Not right now. Out of white nothing, forms appeared. White nothing changed into white snow. A wall took forms and matter. A wall stood high and still, shining light blue like stars. She could see people walking on top of it. She could hear the waves of an ocean. A wall… a sea…

The wall.

The sea.

Eastwatch by the Sea.

The wall cracked like thunder. One huge crack, ripping the ice structure into two pieces, which had protected Westeros since generations. The entire proud of the Nightswatch. The wall, which guarded the realms of men. Another crack, loud like the world's end. Then a thousand tiny tears and rifts and rips. It sounded like the first autumn storm. First rain after a draught. First hail of the winter. Winds howling. For a long moment, the world grew still. No sound.

Until a huge piece of ice came crashing down.

A girl jolted from her sleep, looking around bewildered. She was panting as if she ran. Ran for her life. Her entire body was drenched in sweat. Cold sweat. For a long moment, she didn't understand where she was. Who she was. Her mind was filled with what she had seen, smelled, tasted, felt. She was breathing ragged. Fear. So much fear. It couldn't be put into words. She had died. She…

She finally calmed down. What had she thought? A girl was no one. She was no wolf. She was no Arry and she was no Arya Stark. She couldn't be someone anymore.

Someone… the memory of that dream after she had been ripped to pieces trickled back into her being. Like acid. Cold and killing until every other thought was gone.

Four words remained, which made up her entire existence.

The wall will fall.