YGRITTE

The ice cells were built into the Wall, and as such were cold as the Frostfangs many leagues north. They had given Ygritte a thin black wool blanket, but her furs had always kept her warm in the cold.

Her leg was feeling better. The old crow-the maester, Jon had called him-came in every day to change her bandages. She didn't fight him, as she knew he was helping her. I probably won't slit the old man's throat when we get out of 'ere. It was the only thing keeping her sane; the knowledge that Mance would come, sooner or later, and there were too few crows to stop him.

The only company Ygritte had were Big Boil and Lenn in the adjacent cells; Big Boil had been injured, and Lenn had been cornered and yielded. There was not much to talk about, except Big Boil complaining about his injured leg. At least 'e's finally shut up about that boil on 'is arse. The direwolf had apparently slashed it off his hind during Jon's escape.

She had seen Styr fall to his death, and all of his Thenns had been slain. The rest of the free folk that had climbed the Wall with her were dead as well. Grigg the Goat, who sought to visit the Isle of Faces one day. Stone Thumbs, one of the best climbers north of the Wall. Henk the Helm, whose most prized possession was a steel helmet he'd taken off a crow he'd killed when he was one and ten. Errok, one of the few raiders who could have come close to matching her skill with a bow. Good raiders, tough fighters, loyal friends, all dead. More loyal than that bastard. And yet, Jon could have easily gutted her, but he had spared her, again. She could not say whether he was merciful or cruel for letting her live.

The cell was only five by five feet; not enough room to stand up fully, and not enough room to lie down fully either. Sometimes she would sleep curled up in a corner, other days she would just sit against the walls and sleep like that. More often than not, she found herself moving about in what little room she had.

The first few days in the cell, none of her captors talked to her. They simply brought the prisoners food, slid it into the cell, and marched off. It was all cold, hard bread, with some cold ale as well and the occasional cold greens. Lenn had asked for meat once or twice, but no meat of any sort ever appeared.

The crows put the other two to work a couple days later, and a couple days after that, her leg was deemed healed enough for her to work. It was a welcome relief from the confines of her cell, but she was still under guard. Lenn told her that the first day, they had help gather the wildling and Thenn bodies and burn them. The villagers had protested they wanted to bury their own dead, but those were burned, too. Smart crows.

As soon as the dead were burned, they were set to helping the villagers in clearing rubble from the battle. Some crows would watch them at work, others would simply ignore them. No one touched her, but no one talked to her, either. She did as she was ordered grudgingly, her body still aching from wounds. One of the tougher looking crows, a rough-looking fat man with one arm, watched over them all. He bellowed out orders to everyone in the yard. When one of the others crows looked to be exposing himself to them, the big man had told him off so fiercely that he fled the yard. After that, none of them had tried to do anything to her, and if it looked like they might, one arm would stare them down. Some of the crows made still lewd remarks, but again, one look from the tough crow tended to shut them up.

At Mance's camp, there was always the risk of some man forcing himself on her, which is why she always carried a sharp knife. Here, though, she had no weapon. But the crows seemed almost intimated by her. Got no balls, this lot. And the one-armed crow had insisted they not be harmed. It was apparent he was the leader, yet he wasn't dressed in silk or fine furs or metal clothes like the stories she had heard about southern lords and knights. He ruled through will and strength. Almost like Mance.

She never saw Jon. Whether he was sulking at the top of the Wall, or merely hiding from her in one of the intact buildings, she could not say. She didn't bother asking about him, either. On the seventh day in her cell, a crow about Jon's age, with a broad neck and brown beard, brought them food. He deposited the other two's bread without a word, but after setting down the food in front her, he looked up at her and asked, "You're, uh, Ygritte?"

She snapped her gaze toward the crow, "Aye, who're you, crow?"

"Grenn." The crow responded, "You're Jon's…uh, friend, right?"

"Why?" She shot back, "What's he said about me, crow?"

The crow, Grenn took a step back, "Not much, he mentioned you a few times," he paused, "But he said you saved his life. Twice. That the other wildlings would have killed him if you hadn't stopped them." He paused again, "I guess I wanted to thank you, for helping him get back to us."

Ygritte grunted, "And you'd be wantin' me to spread my legs for you, like I did for 'im?"

Grenn looked almost puzzled. "No, not really." He smiled a little then, "He doesn't like talking about that to us at least. He almost felt, ashamed, really. I tried telling him that men of the Watch sneak off to Molestown all the time, but he got angry at that. He said...he said you were different."

"Molestown?"

"It was the one village just south of Castle Black, the one you-Well, the one you past on your way here."

"Why do they sneak off there?"

"Because of the girls."

"I thought you crows weren't allowed t'fuck girls."

"Well, the men go anyway. The officers don't mind that much; we just can't have a wife or children."

"Did Jon ever go there?"

"Never. Still hasn't been. One of the girls, Zei, offered to warm him up, but he refused her."

For some reason, she asked, "How's 'is leg?"

"It's still healing. Maester Aemon says it'll be at least another fortnight before it'll be fully healed." The crow started to walk away, but then turned back to her, "I need to go now. Do you want me to tell Jon anything?"

Her voice was flat, "No."

"Are you sure?" Grenn asked.

"Aye, I'm sure, crow." She shot back.

"Well, Jon says he hopes you're doing well." The crow turned and hurried away. Ygritte waited until he was gone before she started eating.

The two days that followed were uneventful. There was more rubble to be cleared, and more shivering at night. Finally, on the morning of the third day, if it were the morning hours, Jon finally showed his face, along with the fat crow lord from the yard.

"You!" She demanded, furious, "What do you want, crow?!"

"Ygritte," Jon began, "Calm down-"

"'Calm down?!'" She slammed her hands against the bars of her cell, rattling them as she gripped the cold metal, "Let me out of 'ere, Jon Snow. Or if you're still livin' when Mance comes, 'e'll skin you alive!" Jon gently put his hands on Ygritte's clenched around the bars, but she pulled away violently at his touch.

"Was she always like this?" The fat crow asked.

"No," Jon replied, "Not when we were alone."

The fat crow scoffed, "If you think I'll let you in the cell alone with her-

"That's not what I meant." Jon answered, sadly, "She was always fierce, a good fighter. But that's not the only thing that drew me to you." He was talking only to her now, "Ygritte, I'm sorry that we've had to put you in here. I can get you out after-"

"Out?!" Ygritte spat, "You know nothin', Jon Snow. I wouldn't be 'ere, trapped in this cell, if it weren't for you!" She rattled the bars again.

"You wouldn't be alive if it weren't for him." The fat crow said, "I didn't really see the use in three more mouths to feed, but Jon insisted. Now, Mance is coming. We need to know what he's got planned-"

"So you can kill more o' the Free Folk?" Ygritte scoffed, "You can't save your Wall. You can't stop us, and even if you could..." She paused, shivering. They wouldn't believe her if she told the crows about them: the blue-eyed demons of the cold, or the dead men in the night. Jon knew about the dead, but did he know of their masters?

"What? You don't have the Horn. What should we fear?" Jon asked.

She frowned, "The cold winds are risin', Jon Snow. You might want t'let the Free Folk pass in peace."

"Why?" Donal snorted.

He doesn't know. "Do you know what lies in the north, crow, the far north?"

Donal shrugged, "The Haunted Forest, the Frostfangs, more snow, and that is all."

Jon was sharper, "That's not what she means."

"Aye," Ygritte nodded, "Wait till you see the dead rise." The fat crow turned pale.

"What do you mean?" Donal demanded, "Are you saying Mance has some sorcery?!" Ygritte didn't bother to respond. And I thought Jon was soft in the 'ead. If the Free Folk could control the wights, why would they be running from them?

"If you want t'live, you'll let us pass. Or else, when winter comes, see 'ow long your lot'll last 'gainst the dead, and their masters." Both Jon and Donal turned pale.

There weren't many visits after that. Perhaps she had scared Jon off.

One morning, if it was morning, she thought she faintly heard two horn blasts outside. After that, the crows seldom came, not even to give the prisoners food. She asked what was happening when someone did finally come with food a few days later, but he hurried away without answering. The next day, another crow did come with food. When she asked him, he replied with only one word; "Mance."

A few days after she thought she heard the two horn blasts, the crows dragged two more prisoners into the cell. She was groggy with sleep when she heard the sound of boots, and saw a couple men with torches. Behind them were several men dragging prisoners: one a wildling, but the other was another crow. The wildling was moved past him, but at her cell, they stopped with the crow prisoner.

"Should we throw the traitor in with his whore?" One of the crows asked.

"Aye," A steely voice responded, "He can fuck her all he likes, then we'll hang them both." With that, the man in black was flung into the cell. As soon as the other crows had left, Ygritte looked at her new companion, and took a sharp breath.

"Jon?" She asked, surprised. He looked up at her.

"Ygritte, I'm sorry."

"Jon, what happened?"

"Some men from the Watch came." He explained, "They think I'm a traitor." He sounded disbelieving.

A couple days later, they came for Jon.