The wind seemed colder north of The Wall. It was as though the land remembered the vicious Winter that had nearly fallen upon all of Westeros. The chill in the air was the kind that hurts your face, the kind that often claimed fingertips, or toes. Normally, Jon would be more concerned about such things, but he found himself lost in thought as he sat upon his horse as it trotted through the freshly fallen snow. Jon had felt the burning pain of loss so much in his life, and it still somehow surprised him that it never got any easier. In fact, the older he grew, the more his losses seemed to distress him.
Sentenced to serve the Night's Watch as punishment, Jon was satisfied with the escape King's Landing. He was deeply aggrieved by his mistakes over the last months, and placed most of he blame upon himself. How could he have been so oblivious to it all? Did he miss all the signs because he was once again blinded by love? Perhaps being here was best for him. He could live out his life independently as one of the Free Folk. He had no obligations here. Nothing to guard. Nothing to protect. It was the most free he had felt in a decade, though this fact brought him little relief. Jon's mind returned once again to his memory of Dany laying lifeless in his arms, a look of hurt and betrayal on her face. She trusted him. She loved him…and he loved her. Love was something that Jon knew little about. He thought he understood it, but now it seemed it was not meant for him, and perhaps exile was what he deserved.
Jon was abruptly brought back to reality with a stiff pat on the shoulder. Jon turned slightly, catching sight of the wild red beard and somewhat crazed expression of Tormund.
"You 'ome in there, Jon Snow?" he asked him in gruff voice, a slight smirk forming on his lips.
Jon looked back ahead of him, his expression still wrought with uneasiness. "Yeah, I'm fine." he replied. He gave his horse a small kick to speed up a bit, partly to make himself more attention, and partly to get away from Tormund, who he knew would soon start trying to 'cheer him up' by telling one of his strange stories. He was not in the mood to entertain it.
Jon recalled being described by Catelyn Stark as 'a broody boy, with little to say', and he supposed that she was probably right. Perhaps had he spoken up more often he would be somewhere else right now. Somewhere where the air didn't hurt his skin. Jon had learned a long time ago though, that ruminating on what could have been was futile. One had to learn to live with the decisions they made, even if they were the wrong ones.
Returning his attention now to what was going on around him, Jon scanned the group riding and walking alongside him. The group seemed much smaller than it had been before, though spirits seemed high. Jon could hear the sound of pots and pans rattling as they clunked against the sides of horses, held on by only whatever string or material people could find. There was little left at the wall as it were. The damage to the wall had been extensive when it was breeched, and repairing it seemed futile now that the very thing the wall was intended to keep out no longer posed a threat.
Children, still full of energy, pranced around laughing and singing. Jon couldn't help but smile a bit as a small girl held an older boy at length with a wooden sword. It reminded him of Arya, and how far she'd come. From needles to Needle, Arya was a skilled fighter and Jon was proud of her. Without her, it was impossible to know how much longer the Battle of Ice and Fire would have gone on.
The group around him was no bigger than a few hundred, many of whom were women and children. Many of the men had died in battle, though the stubborn ones like Tormund remained. The group seemed lively. The children had been hidden away from the horrors of the war, and many of the women as well. The remaining men had started in on whatever ale they had managed to salvage, trying to forget the war as well as the cold. It seemed to be working, as many of them seemed in good spirits as they spun yarns to the children and each other about heroic feats they had supposedly carried out. Jon couldn't verify any of them, nor did he care to.
Once again, Jon gave his horse a sharp kick, and its speed increased accordingly. Jon had heard enough of the loosely accurate stories of battle and wanted some distance from the group. They were crossing into the forest now, and although the trees seemed to shelter from light, they did little to cut down on the sharp winds that seemed to find their way through the maze of trees.
Though Jon had been north of The Wall before, it felt different. With no plans or goals in mind, Jon felt somewhat uneasy and wondered what, if any, other horrors awaited them as they continued north. To say the thought of lingering White Walkers hadn't crossed his mind would be a lie. With all wars there were stragglers, right? The only thing that brought Jon any content in that regard was the fact that he, and a number of others, still had weapons composed of Dragon Glass, one of the few things known for certain to kill White Walkers.
Once more, Jon's thoughts were interrupted by another scruffy voice.
"Tad nervous thar, aye Jon Snow?" the man said. Jon recognized the voice to be that of Toremyr, an older man with an unrivalled axe-throwing accuracy from distances one would say to be untrue had they not seen it with their own eyes.
Jon was briefly confused, but became quickly aware of his hand that was gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. He let it go. "Never hurts to be prepared, Toremyr." Jon said.
Toremyr gave a hearty laugh, "Ye worry tae much, Jon Snow. Have some ale, tak your mind aff things." he said as he thrust the leather waterskin he held into Jon's chest. Jon, not expecting it was pushed back slightly unsteadily by it, which made Toremyr laugh once more. Jon took the waterskin from him and put it to his mouth, taking in a large gulp of the liquid inside. As with most Free Folk spirits, it was far from smooth, and felt corrosive as it slid down your throat. Knowing this however, did not stop Jon from coughing with a mix of shock and disgust at the potency of the drink.
Unsurprisingly, Toremyr's guff belly laugh filled the air around them. "Ye keep tha' one, Jon Snow. 'Ave tae git used tae it some time." Toremyr told him in a cheery voice before speeding up his horse, off to bother someone else.
Jon's face was still in a grimace as he shoved the cork into the top of the waterskin to seal it closed. He'd get used to it later.
Nightfall didn't seem long to fall upon them. They were now surrounded by thick forest, with little to see as a fresh layer of snow sifted gently through the trees, settling on the ground. The falling snow almost looked magical as the children pranced about insisting the slowly falling snow were fairies.
Jon gently pulled his horse to a stop, turning to face Toremyr who was near behind him. "We should stop here. It will soon be too dark to carry on any further." Jon said. He figured they could maybe get another mile in, but people who were walking began to look tired, and there was a clearing here between the trees they could set up camp in for the night. It was a good a time to stop as any.
Toremyr took no time to consider Jon's suggestion before hopping off his horse. "Alrigh' then." he said as he grabbed some bags he had attached to his horse, tossing them on the ground. Everyone else seemed to understand the plan, and they began unpacking things to make shelter, and cook what little food they had scavenged from The Wall. Jon looked around at the group of people for a moment before getting off his own horse and moving to help with setting up camp. Here, Jon was not a King, nor a Warden, nor a Targaryen. He was just Jon here. How ironic it was that for the first time he was happy to be just Jon.
Before long, the camp was erected and things were getting quieter as children began to fall asleep, exhausted from the day's walk. Though everyone certainly did not eat their fill, all of them got something and it was enough to tide them over at least for the night and next morning. They would have to find a source of food soon, or risk starvation since they were now much too far from any supply.
As full darkness fell upon them, their only light was the few dwindling embers of fires and a sky full of stars. Jon stood from where he sat beside one of the fires. "I'll take first watch." he said, picking up his sword and securing it to his waist.
"Thar's nothing out thar, Jon Snow." Toremyr said, waving a hand at him dismissively. His speech was slurred now that the ale had gotten the better of him, "The White Walkers is all dead an' thats na animals for miles. Sit doon 'n rest, would ye?" he said.
Jon shook his head, "It would be silly not to have someone on lookout, I'll take first shift." he said as he pulled himself onto his horse. As he rode away he heard Toremyr speak exasperated, "Bloody 'ell, this one." Jon ignored the grunts of agreement from those nearby.
Jon trotted past them on his horse and stopped just before passing the last of the makeshift shelters. He turned his horse to face the group, who met him with confused looks. "I'll be on watch. We'll need volunteers." He said simply before turning again and heading off to scout their perimeter. People would step up, or they wouldn't. Either way, Jon Snow would stand guard until light came once again.