The land was a vast enclosed space. The trees were tall and covered in frost that gathered from the cold winds. Birds would fly out of the tree and head south for warmth. The snow was lightly falling from the sky above. The only sound was one of wind.

Senses remained high on the north side of the wall. The smell of a fresh frozen stream was all that was there. A warm hand touched the frost covered bark. The frost slowly melted only to be frosted over once the hand parted. The frosted trees and snow fall made it hard for the Wildling hunter to see the sky above and the land before him. It all blended in.

Papias sat there quietly waiting for a slight sound that was separated from the rest. His focus would stay directly on the odd. He looked up in the sky for a bird that flew to low. His gaze would move too all corners around him for a deer or elk that would attempt to break the ice for fresh cold water. He had been there for three hours waiting for anything he could bring home to Mance Rayder and the rest of his Wildling folk. As he sat there he kept his senses high. There were many dangers beyond the wall. The crows from castle black, Craster and his men and the most dangerous of all. They are said to be legend but far from it. Papias had seen one; his men have been attacked by them. They were no friends. They were the Others.

Before he could be haunted by memory, Papias heard suddle footsteps. He turned his head slowly to see a male buck digging at the snow. Papias leaned over onto his right knee. He pulled out his long bow that was half the size of him when he stood up. He set it into position. Papias then slowly pulled an arrow from his pack that rested on his back. He placed the arrow into position with the bow and pulled it back quietly. He sat there for a moment as the animal took its final drink. He then released his grip on the arrow and it went flying past his face. The arrow hit the animal in the side of the jugular. It squealed then fell to the ground.

Papias leaped from behind the bushes and ran over to the animal. He looked down upon the wounded animal. He placed the bow down and held the animals head in his hands. The buck took heavy breaths as it glared into the eyes of its predator. Papias glared down upon it. He slowly brought out his dagger and brought it closer to the animal.

"I promise, you're meat and fur will go to no waste," Papias said. He then stuck the dagger into the buck's neck and slowly cut it. It wasn't long before the animal was no longer breathing. Papias gave a sigh and began to pack up the animal in his rope.

When the animal was well secured in the rope, Papias tested the tug. He then held the other end over his shoulder and turned in the direction of his Wildling camp. His gaze kept to the ground as he pulled the buck through the snow. A chilling strong and horrifying wind came and blew across his face. Papias stopped in his tracks and turned his head in the direction the wind came from. Standing by a tree was a dark figure. He stood up firmly and glared at it. The figure didn't move. When Papias eyes adjusted he saw what it was. A tall, wrinkled man. One that had half his face rotted away stood there glaring. It was one of the Others. His gaze turned to the other side to see another one. He glared at them. They glared back. They watched him for a moment longer before disappearing into pale forest. Papias let out a sigh then continued on.

Memories began to return. It was his thirteenth hunt. He was traveling alongside a group of elven wildings. They were his friends. The biting wind was nothing for them. They were following the trail of a herd of deer. On their travel they lost the tracks. They seemed to have completely disappeared. The trace of them was completely gone. In the rage and argument between the hunters a vast sound was heard. A terrifying and trembling one. They came fast and they came swiftly. Papias closed his eyes in the horror to avoid the sight of his own death. But when he opened them the bodies laid cold around him. The Others stood all around them in a circle. Papias was scared and saw his life coming to an end. The Others had a different idea in mind. They let him live, only to be haunted by the memory.

Papias soon arrived at the wildling camp. As he dragged his catch through the snow, four little heads popped out from behind a log. They slowly rose. Four children ran around and jumped for joy at the sight of him. He smiled and gave out a laugh as he looked at them. He continued on through the camp. The four children running and skipping around him.

When he got to Mance Rayder's tent he dropped his catch. Two of the wildling men came and grabbed it. It was a large buck and the men were pleased to receive it. Papias smiled as the men gave him a tap on the back. He turned his gaze to see Esmour Browne. One of the wildlings greatest hunters and a legend to the wildlings. He's in his mid-fifties and has a limp that he got from fighting one of the Crows. He won the battle but suffered a major injury that now he can no longer hunt or fight.

"Papias! How did you're hunt go?" Esmour asked as he reached the boy.

"It was good. I found a four year old buck. A big one," Papias smiled. Esmour through his head back and chuckled. His grey eyes now covered by his top and bottom eyelid. Esmour's giant hand came up and rested on the side of Papias' shoulder as they entered the tent.

Inside, Mance Rayder had a small fire and his bed. He looked through a map and chewed on his bottom lip. Papias and Esmour's smile disappeared. Something was on Rayder's mind. The two men took a few steps forward and stood in front of Rayder. Rayder slowly raised his eyes and saw his two most trusted men.

"My son and my hand, what do you have for me?" Mance asked. Papias licked his lips. He had something on his mind that he wanted to ask Mance some time ago. Esmour knew and had planned to speak with Rayder alongside Papias.

"I request to advance my hunter position to warrior and travel with you to the other side of the wall," Papias requested as his hands began to become clammy. Mance glared at him.

"Request denied. You stay a hunter for your people," Rayder responded as he looked back down at his map. Papias gulped back. He looked over at Esmour. Esmour's gaze was on the ground. Papias looked back at Rayder and stormed out with anger and sadness.

When Papias left the tent, Esmour looked at Rayder. Rayder dropped his gaze and sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He then turned and leaned against the table. Esmour made his way to Rayder's side.

"You have yet to tell the boy the truth. His family, his honor, his home," Esmour stated. Rayder looked forward at nothing.

"I am Papias' family, his honor is with the Wildlings and his home is here," Rayder replied.

"His family is the Delnatte's royal house, his honor lies beyond the wall and his home lies where his family was chased too, Dreadfort. That is his home and that is where he belongs," Esmour said firmly as he leaned in closer to Mance. Mance pulled away quickly and shriveled up his face with anger.

"He is sixteen years old and a hunter for the wildlings! He is my son and nothing more! He is prince beyond the wall not prince of the Delnatte's! Bring this up again and I will feed you to the cold corpses that haunt Papias' mind!" Rayder snapped before storming out of the tent. Esmour let out a sigh and rubbed his shriveled hands.