PROLOGUE

Will could not wait to see the formidability of the fortress named Winterfell, where Benjen Stark had once been raised and lived in.

Only a year prior, Will, being a good thief that he thought he was, sneaked into some lordling's camp trying to get some bread. When everything did not go as planned, Will was much eager to choose the Wall to live for the rest of his life (or had his hands chopped off). Yet being only fourteen, Will still kept in him a pocket full of heroic dreams like many other boys at his age did. He'd dreamt of becoming a hedge knight, with a squire or two together roaming a realm looking for big castles and services. He'd thought of participating in a joust, winning it and a certain lady's favour. Maybe my first joust will be at Winterfell. Will passed Winterfell on his way to the Wall back then, but only had a chance to behold its wonder afar.

"Had nineteen castles here at the Wall. Couldn't you see 'em?" Halder once asked him.

They are big enough, these castles, Will thought, but too low populated. And most of them are dead quiet.

How strong and fierce the Night's Watch had once been, it now was only a shadow of its past. Though the knowledge was never meant for a new recruit like Will to know, he learnt that only three castles at the moment of the nineteen were currently occupied; and even those ones were too grand for the number of men that guarded there. I want to see a real castle that is alive, with all the knights and ladies in attendance. And so did he swiftly volunteered for this voyage.

"We go south today to tell the people what we know," Benjen Stark told everyone on the morning of departure. It was not cold, with here and there proudly stood an evergreen. "For more than three decades now, there has not been a single invasion from beyond the Wall. And so our King and lords forget about those dangers. They forget the wildlings and they forget the Night's Watch. Yet troubled time has come again. We have seen, chased and captured a great deal of those free folks recently. They are coming south and they want something. And it's going to be hard for us with our supply right now, were those wildlings at our door. We need support from those southern lords and that is exactly why we're leaving today."

And so they went, not before suffering another speech from Lord Commander Mormont. The Old Bear also had Maester Aemon dispatched ravens to bring the new to every region of the realm. A full week had passed. They'd left the frozen air of the Wall for the cool chill below. As they went, green fields started to appear with farmers and their families, sheep with boy shepherds and even taverns with those wenches. These rare occasions were the only times that the brothers of the Night's Watch could feel the taste of summer. They passed Mole's Town unable to get a single drink (at Benjen's command) and Queenscrown, where some Targaryen queen had landed on the back of her fire-breathing dragon to visit the Night's Watch. They stopped at the Last Hearth, paid respect to the Lord Umber, a big and ferocious man with the loudest laugh Will'd ever heard. The Lord Umber greeted Benjen cheerfully, as befit the First Ranger of the Night's Watch and brother of his liege lord. He feasted them that same night, with a dozen of courses and wine from the Arbor. Their supply was restocked the next day, and continued to resume their travel. "Tell that goddamn brother of yours I'll come to see him soon!" the Greatjon roared at Benjen, rumbling with his voice and slammed his huge hand onto the First Ranger's arm, "We'll see you crows soon". Will didn't see Benjen raising that arm for the rest of the day. They also went across the Dreadfort, but Benjen refused to make a stop, reasoning that they already had a very ample amount of provision.

"Heard that there is bad blood between the Staks and Lords of the Dreadfort. Like a conflict way long time ago." Ferrell told Will that night, with his knife at his fingers picking out dirt.

When the day was almost done, Benjen signalled the column to stop and everyone came to a halt. The brothers gathered together, and positioned before the three leading men. In the middle stood Benjen Stark, First Ranger of the Night's Watch, the Black Wolf of Winterfell, tall and stout with a long and stern face. Will had never known Stark, but learnt that over the years he had led many rangings and captured hundreds of wildings. On his left was Eddison Tollett, chief steward, thin and grey-haired. Last stood Yoren, recruiter of the Night's Watch, big of head and small of belly. Will envied his job; the bastard got to travel everywhere.

"Tonight is the last night," Tollett informed. "Tomorrow we'll all sleep in feathered bed like a proper lord."

"Except Jeren, he belongs in a stable, with the lady horses." Pypar shouted, and the crowd exploded with laughter.

Stark stepped forward, and everyone silenced, "Yoren wanted to keep going, but I won't risk the danger. Travelling at night makes us vulnerable to ambush, no matter how close we are right now to Winterfell. Wildings are savage people, and they don't know fear. We must take cautions."

When no one argued, he went on. "I want the perimeter secured, the ground dug and trapped. I want guards all night, three each direction. I want everyone to stay alert. Let's make camps. And we'll resume tomorrow." And to his sides, "Yoren, Tollett, with me."

As part of the rangers, Will took charge of the outer defense. He went to the eastern side of the camp, accompanied by Pypar and Stu. Pyp was always joyful, while Stu quiet and not that talkative. They passed by a group of stewards, trying to raise camps. Another had already set up their wood, preparing fire and supper. Will felt his belly grumbling, unknowing if he was hungry or just excited for the morrow.

"You been at the Watch for a while, Stu. Ever been to Winterfell?" Pyp asked.

"Haven't"

"Too bad"

"Have you, Pyp?" Will asked, looking around for a spot to dig. The day was not over yet, with the last of its cake still being consumed by the mountain. Still, it was getting cold and night might be creeping out sooner than he thought. Better had those fire out as soon as possible.

"Same as Stu, but I've heard lots of stories. I heard about Lord Stark's beautiful daughter, with hair as pretty as autumn leaves and smile as shining as morning bright. I also heard about their godswood at Winterfell, half as big but twice as holy compared to ours."

"Where you heard from?" Stu questioned, suddenly.

"Dareon, of course."

Dareon had been a singer before he got sent to the Wall for screwing with some lord's daughter. He'd been everywhere and seen everything. Every night at the dining hall, every brother would surround Dareon, eating and listening to his stories. Sometimes, he also sang. His voice was so high and sweet that Will felt the Wall shuttered its tears. He can get any maidenhood with that kind of voice, Will thought. Dareon had also been eager to sign up for this trip, but the Old Bear refused him, fearing any trouble that the singer might cause if put too close to any woman.

Stu had already started digging while Pyp was still looking for his spade. Stu was huge and strong, an experienced ranger. No one knew his crime for which he was sent to the Wall. He simply refused to tell anybody. When led to Mormont, he begged for ranger and eventually was assigned one. At his first ranging, it was told that he was the first to reach the wildling camp, killing four of them before his brothers came to assistance. Will had seen him training alone at night, and knew that this freak of a man could be deadly with any weapon. Pyp was more of a clown, always cracking humour. He was two year earlier than Will, yet never had a ranging. Ser Alliser Thorne, the Master-at-Arms, noted the sharpness of Pyp's eyes, and thus gave him the defense on top of the Wall. Pyp always complained how cold it was up there.

They were blessed with dinner later than expected. Hours after they were done digging their area and filling those holes with shortened arrows, Ulmer brought them soups with bread crumbs and few carrots, if luckily a piece of bacon now and then. At least they had all the fire needed to keep them warm. The food that Lord Umber gave was hardly enough for twenty fine fully-grown, hungry, and spit-dropping barbarians like them. Will had it with courtesy, while Stu finished it in one go. Pyp did his eating and taking at the same time, like usual.

"…he tried to avoid my sight, but it was daylight, you know. So I took out my bow and a single arrow before putting its head right through the bastard's belly. We took him in, but he died because of infection some days later. My arrow was dirty, I tell 'ya, but not poisonous. Poison is a woman's work."

"Aemon didn't clean it good, I guess. He's aged." Stu said, lying on his back.

"Tell that to the old man himself! His eyesight is better than all of us. He has taken care of every single wound that we have, for almost 60 years. 60 fucking years! That man can heal, Stu."

"Then it was you who didn't clean your shit good, Pypar." Stu shrugged, his eyes started to close.

Will laughed, "I'll take the first watch."

Will looked around. At the southern post were Ferrell and Albett, still up with another who was already asleep so Will couldn't tell his name. Only Jax stood watch at the western side now, his two companions clearly sleeping. "'Sup, Willy?" Jax shouted, and Will waved back. Will could hear Stiv Who-Digs-Deep's snore up from the north, rolling beside him Todder the Toddler, notable for his small size. Will couldn't see who the third brother was. All the stewards were apparently sleeping now. Tollett's and Yoren's camps were dark, but light still came out of Stark's. Maybe wolves do not sleep at night, Will wondered. Maybe it's time they hunt.

Long ago, these surrounding woods were fully inhabited by the wolves, Dareon once told everyone. They roamed the area, pushing away human presence. Direwolves were the kings of all. Lions couldn't defeat them. Tiger couldn't throw them down. Lords of the Wood, they are called. Years later, when the Andals came and set their civilization, they chopped down most of the wood and built their strongholds. The wolves drew back to the deeper corners of their territory and have resided there ever since. Sometimes, they still wandered back to the open woods, looking for prey and blood. Men still got attacked viciously, or worse killed by them. Will wondered if any of those animals were out there right now. Otherwise, the night was silence. Will thought he could hear Dareon's singing back at the Wall. Darkness still walked the land, with its howling windy instrument. Will found himself yawning; it'd been a long day after all. As soon as Pyp woke up and complained about his dream of being crushed beneath the collapse of Winterfell, Will immediately switched his place and went to close his eyes. Winterfell, he remembered his last thought.

The ambush started as soon as the last tent had been raised. Two arrows struck at Max's two eyes as he shrieked a gruesome pain and fell down on his back. "Shit! We're under ATTACK!" Stiv screamed, before another arrow thrust through his throat. Todd quickly raised his shield, and after a brief moment found his voice, "Assemble! Assemble, all you bastards!" Will saw Benjen Stark on his horse, pulled up his own shield; Yoren and Toillett also mounted on his side.

"Ferrell, Grenn, run as fast as you can. The first Winterfell outrider you see, you tell them what happens. You hear me?" Stark said.

"Aye! We will." Grenn said, then galloped with his brother.

"All you, retreat! Retreat together! Get your shield up high! Form a three-quarter circle facing the north and slowly retreat to Winterfell." Ben commanded the rest of the group.

Will heard Stu murmured "Fuck!" before mounting his mare. Will promptly followed him with Pyp, assembling a defensive flank of the party. Albett ran up to Todd and helped him hold off the attack; Will could see dozens of arrowheads sticking out at the back of Todd's shield right now. It wasn't long before the first arrow caught Will's as well. Benjen rode in the middle with the stewards, who awkwardly drew out their swords. Fuck, these bastards can't even hold a weapon properly.

"I say after Lord Stark's soldiers 're here. We go after those wildling fucks!" Jax bellowed, an arrow protruded from his left hand.

"Too dangerous," Benjen said, recoiled after an arrow penetrated through his shield. "They know these wood. We don't."

"Inform Lord Stark, I say." Yoren spoke. "Let him send his guards. Let him command the Glovers and the Umbers to send their guards, too. They know their wolfswood. Let them root these wildlings out, I say."

Looking back over his head, Will saw wildlings running down on them from the North, quivers on their hands. Some wore a helmet, some just a feathered hat. Some wore none at all. There were a few of them on the sides as well, but not as many. They advanced in such a disorder that displayed no discipline at all. Will looked up, but saw none hiding on the trees. These wildlings must be either very bold, or very stupid because they were so close to Winterfell, the strongest fortified structure of the North. The wildlings kept their distance, not daring to engage. As the black brothers got closer to Winterfell, the free folks seemed to retreat. A hundred yard further, Will did not see any more of their shadow.

That was when Benjen Stark's horse went down. An arrow went through the creature's neck and Will heard its final agonizing neigh. Around fifteen wildlings came at them, running on foot with swords, axes and spears. "Fuck! How…how is this possible?" Toillett stammered, his face a green mask. Having disentangling himself from his dead ride, Benjen withdrew his sword and cut through the first wildling's flesh that came at him. Yoren followed right after Stark, with most of the stewards behind him. Will lowered his shield to draw his sword, but found himself falling down at well. Uproars from two sides of the Night's Watch band came exploding in his ears. Will looked around, and saw more wildlings from the flanks. "Run! Run to Winterfell!" Benjen cried out, before jumping on Toillett's mare, together they run toward the wildlings. Will heard a slash, and saw Albett's head flying, his eyes still rolling.

Will tried to get on Pyp's horse, but the poor thing got shot as well. Pyp jumped right on Stu's, whose rider threw a dagger right between a wildling's eyes. And they ran.

Will looked straight, and saw Benjen cutting through the free folks, already found his way out.

Will looked to the right, and saw Jax eating a full morningstar right at his mouth.

Will looked back, and saw Todd running past him. Was it true that nobody cared about a dwarf?

Will looked to his left, and he saw the leader of this raiding party.

He was huge, thick and wore a band behind his blond hair. And on his hand waved a long deadly scythe. The man walked slowly toward Will, toying his weapon and stopped when only a few yards remained between them. "Wintefell!" Will cried out, but before he managed to lift his sword, the scythe already came at him. And it came fast at Will, but the black brother reacted well. He ducked a swing of the scythe, and slashed at the wildling leader, who avoided it. Will parried a hack, but as soon lost his shield. He cut at his foe ferociously with his two hands firmly gripped on his sword, and for the moment the wilding stepped back. "Night's Watch!" he bellowed, "Robert!" Will lashed right straight, but the wildling quickly moved to the left and Will felt something exploded on his leg. The wildling got his scythe through Will's thigh, and blood eagerly poured out as soon as he removed it. Will uttered a scream of pain before getting down on one knee, losing sense of his grip. "Fuck you!" Will shrieked "I swear to God I…."

The wildling struck his weapon again, this time clean through Will's throat. Red blood squirted out of his mouth, his sound stuttered. His eyes blinked a red tear, hands waving forward trying to take hold of whatever was sticking in his throat. The wildling lifted his scythe up slowly, and on the same rhythm Will shakily got on his feet, his shirt dyed a color of crimson. Will jerked suddenly backward when the wildling violently swung back his scythe, out of Will's neck. He landed on his back; blood sprayed atop his face. As he looked up to the sky, hands covering a hole in his throat, trying somehow to stop the bleeding, he saw a big castle with its towers touching the sky, flying on top a banner of a direwolf.