Chapter 1:

The moon was at half phase, hanging precariously over the horizon as if from a string, that at any moment would snap and send it connecting harshly with the world's edge. Cold wind, harsher in the far north than any other, bit with sharpened fangs at the dense fur cloaks donned by the Night's Watch. The black brothers hunched over the necks of their steeds, bracing against the force of the air. The cold left barely an impact on their progress; these men were long hardened by the gale, and sat within its fierce embrace with the ease of fish in water.

Jon gazed admirably at the patrol before him. Being new to the brotherhood himself, he still hated the tingle felt on the tip of his nose and the stiffness in his chilled fingers, but not wanting to seem week, kept his mouth clamped shut against complaints, instead focusing on keeping balance atop his horse, as the wind tugged left and right, trying with all its might to throw him. Ghost kept by his side, horse shifting nervously at his presence, red eyes pointed straight ahead, as though seeing through the harsh turbulence were the easiest task in the world.

The bastard Stark kept eyes strained on the perimeter of the forest around him, not wanting to waste this one chance on patrol. Being relegated to, as he considered, nothing more than a servant boy was not what he had planned as his future for serving the watch, but a place was a place, and if that was where the Watch needed him, then Jon would buck up with a few grumbles and do as told. He still intended to make most of his last trip beyond the wall, letting his mind wander with dreams of ranging through the hills, instead of just trailing the wall's perimeter to look in on a slight disturbance within the tree line. Voices drifted back from farther into the patrol group. Jon strained to hear the elder Watchmen's discussion.

"Damn newbies." One grumbled. "This is why we shouldn't put the greenies on the wall. There's nothing out here but snow and ice! They must have seen a tree branch rustling, and been so frightened they sent in a report! Disgrace!"

"Cram it, ya frozen coot." His heavily bearded friend snapped. "Ya bust be getting' on in yer years if ya can't handle a bit-o time in the breeze." He chuckled.

The first man shot his comrade a sneer before turning back to face the front.

Jon chuckled to himself in exasperation. The men of the wall may have been cold, sometimes intimidating, but all things were well taken in jest; the decree of all men of the Watch being brothers radiating firmly into all aspects of how they treated one another. Still… Jon could not deny a loneliness that filled a spot in his gut. The boy missed home. Missed the castle, his father, his real brothers, Arya, even Lady Stark. He'd gladly welcome the sight of her, even wearing one of her pointed looks she often left his way. Jon was having issues feeling any sort of a connection to the men around him. Most were criminals forced into a life they never asked for, not on decision for a better one, like he had. There was little common ground to be found outside of the new recruits he had befriended at training. But he forced thoughts away with a calm breath. Now was not the time. HE was of the Watch now. There was a place for him, and he would find it. The Watch was his family now. Everything would fall into place soon enough.

Ghost came to a sudden halt. Ears pricked and gazing with only wolf-like intensity at the bush to Jon's left. Jon pulled his horse up short.

"What is it?" He whispered eagerly.

Ghost gave one sniff. Then the silent dire wolf raced at full tilt into the woods.

"Hey!" Jon called out to the troop ahead of him. "Ghost has got something!" And without waiting for command, Jon Snow leapt off the path and into the heart of the growth, following the feeling form of his white companion.

After several feet of running, Jon guided his ride to a halt. The beast's sides were gasping heavily, and vapor breath left its nostrils in large puffs. The trees ahead of him were dense, too dense for his horse, but Jon had seen Ghost slip through into the undergrowth. Determined, Jon dismounted and tied his horse to a branch jutting at a low angle from one of the trees, and dashed off after his wolf.

The anxious desire to prove himself as a capable watchman drove his cold feet eagerly through the deep snow piled around him. He followed the light marks of Ghost's steps until he broke from the cover into a clearing, lit by the half-moon's light. Trees stood as black and guarding silhouette ringing the pure, untouched gathering of snow. Ghost stood ridged, nose pointed towards the far end of the clearing. Jon steps forward with a hunter's movements, striving not to alert anything within the cover. He leaned down and placed a gloved hand over the wolf's shoulder. He moved not an inch.

"What's out there, boy?"

Jon leaned forward himself, straining into the darkness. Branches fluttered in reaction to movement, and a figure lifted its head from the darkness. Jon saw nothing but bright, golden eyes. They burned like coins from the shadows, and felt strangely beckoning and warm. As if asking Jon to approach.

He took an unconscious step forward. A sudden burst of noise drove the eyes away in fright as the rest of the watch pounded out through the canopy and into the clearing.

"Jon-!" the leader, whose name he had yet to learn, panted out heavily. "What- huff- is the meaning of this? Never run off from a patrol!"

Startled out of his captivated reverie, Jon stood with head bowed, shame and realization at the carelessness of his actions already flooding through his body without needing to be told.

"I'm sorry, sir. I saw that Ghost had caught hold of something's scent, and lost myself in the excitement."

His faced didn't soften an inch as he rose above Jon's submissive form. Clear annoyance and exhaustion written in the lines of his skin. He had little patience for the newly initiated at this point.

"That is of no matter. We have no clue as to what could be lurking here. Even if what alerted the guard were to be nothing more than a foraging squirrel, the woods are still full of other dangers. Ones no one should be anxious to meet."

Jon kept eye contact with the ground, knowing all faults before they even left the patrol leader's grizzled face. The words he spoke took root in Jon's mind, and brought forth memories of Old Nan, gathering the children to recount tales of the old days. Of magic creatures running wild, dragons sailing the skies, the cold, walking beasts to the north, even animals who could speak as humans. He smiled lightly despite himself, still missing his old life terribly. His down cast eyes caught the trees around him. Surely the commander was referring to wild animals, like dire wolves, or bears, or night cats; not dragons or creatures made of snow. Stories were just stories. Nothing like that could exist today. Not with so much magic gone from the world.

During his chastising, the group had forgotten about Ghost, who's body perked up again as the rustling started once more from the bushes. The guard's reaction was immediate. They turned as one, tightening into a loose circle with swords drawn. Jon searched the woods. The rustling had picked up, now circulating throughout the undergrowth. His eyes caught flashes of quick forms moving gracefully about the ferns and branches. He heard the others curse in frustration around him, and Jon caught on to the reason. The dexterous bodies were stirring up all the foliage around them, creating uncertainty as to where they would strike from. This left the Watch with nowhere to focus their attention, no way of knowing from which direction to guard.

Suddenly, they stopped. And the forest stood undeniably still. Jon felt nervous sweat trickle down his neck. Ghost had not moved an inch. The guard clenched their swords in a death grip, eyes shifting left to right.

Then the world exploded into noise.

Growls that shook the earth permeated all around, as heavy furred bodies leapt from hiding and flung themselves upon the group. Confusion burst, and startled Watchmen swung at any large forms they could see. But the figures were undaunted. They flung and crushed the fighters like weak children, scattering them in all directions, disarming biting and clawing until they collapsed one by one. Jon watched as he struggled to fight with amazed terror. The beasts were slipping their teeth through the openings of their coverings, through sleeves and necklines, going past the armor to get at sensitive weak points.

These are no beasts. They're fighting smart! The realization came just as another one burst from the blind spot in his peripherals, sinking fangs deep into his shoulder, tearing through cloth and fur like a sword through wet paper.

Jon groaned in pain, though something still felt off. Instead of just a biting sting, there was a tingle spreading through his body. The beast clenched tight around his shoulder, teeth almost meeting teeth, and held Jon down as the shivers and tingles spread to the rest of his body. Vision blackened at the sides, and the world narrowed until his only focus was on those eyes. Warm and golden, oddly calming. Jon caught look of a narrow face, wide black nose, and sharp ears sitting from curved points at the top of a broad head. His vision narrowed again, close to nothing, and the last thought he managed.

Wolf

A piece of consciousness came back for him but a few moments later. He felt snow parting at his back, the hood of his fur cloak grasped in a tight grip dragging him deeper into the woods. The sounds and cries of his new brothers fading into the background. And just in the distance before him, Ghost following at a slow pace. The wolf. He had stood there, at the edge of the wood, watching. Ghost always leapt to his defense, swiping and snapping at all those who sought him harm. But through that whole fight, he hadn't done a single thing.