This Night and All Nights to Come

Chapter 7


Fredor hated Sam's questions.

After what seemed like hours, he had finally gotten him to stop talking, shortly after they abandoned their horses. But now the silence around them was deafening. The wind did not even howl as it constantly did up on the Wall and the air around them was stiff and thick and cold. The crunch of packed snow underneath the boys' feet was the only solace they had from their grim thoughts. The wood was dense and though it was early in the day, the light from the sun barely shown through the barren branches.

"What is this?" Sam asked breathlessly. Fredor rolled his eyes while the two other boys looked at Sam as he studied the bottom of his shoe and then the ground. They did the same. Underneath the freshly fallen snow, a frozen layer of blood stained the permafrost where the boys stood. Fredor saw nothing but white in his step, so he shuffled through the snow. When he came across the sanguine ground, he let out a small gasp and took a step back.

He cleared his hoarse throat. "I'm sure it was just wildlings," he finally said to his companions. Fredor looked at Cliff and the eldest boy nodded his head softly.

"But... but Jon is gone," Sam told them, as if they did not already know. The four black brothers stared at each other. Sam's comment would have gone ignored if they did not know why they had gone out into the wood in the first place.

"It's just wildlings, Sam." But Pyp's voice wavered, unnerving him even more. "Random skirmishes."

"But Jon. Is. Gone." Sam repeated as though his comment went unheard the first time. Everything was still for a moment. The boy was too emotional, Fredor mused. His first thought when he found Jon missing again was to send a raven to Winterfell. And who would receive it? Fredor asked him that morn. The cripple or the baby? No, we will look for him ourselves.

Cliff walked to a nearby tree and scraped a piece of charred bark off of it. The black cinders came off easily and he rubbed his fingers together to rid them of the ash.

"If he were here and if he were dead, we would have found his body," he explained. "Wildlings only take their own dead home."

Fredor patted Sam on the back. "See, there is nothing to be worried about. Jon can take care of himself."

Pyp nodded in agreeance but Sam sighed and shook his head. "Then why are we out here looking for him?"

Fredor really hated Sam's questions.

o0oOo0oOo0o

Sairette tried to stand up to her full height as she talked to her brother. He was tall, very tall, which was the one thing that he had inherited from their father. Still, he stared down at her, unimpressed and seemingly bored with her argument.

"I would have the fighting ended, Lieto! I would see peace between our people and his!"

"Peace, sister? Peace?" Lieto turned and took a few steps as if he couldn't stand still, then looked back to Sairette. "There will never be peace!" he growled and cut his hand through the air to emphasize his point.

"I saw how the men looked at him for guidance," Sairette said. "You were there. Through him we could do it! We could end this."

"Who said he would even want peace? He is not like us!"

"And all the better for it!" Sairette yelled. She immediately caught herself and then sighed, regretting what she just said. "Talk to father about it," she pleaded. "You have his ear. Please, brother. He thinks my words mere ramblings of a child."

"You are a child," he hissed. "A child with an agenda -"

"An agenda?" she narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure out his meaning.

"- I knew it. As soon as you threw yourself on him. As if you ever cringed from death," Lieto muttered. "And even if I did talk to him, what could the Vilkas do? He is a warrior. He has no head for politics."

"This is not about politics. This is about survival! We can not fight two wars! The plainsmen from the east, I see, but the Watchers - it is needless."

"Death is necessary, sister," Lieto said, then turned once more to leave. Before he could, Sairette gently grabbed his arm to stop him. He looked at her curiously.

"And one day you will be the one leading our men to their deaths," Sairette explained, grieved by this inevitable fact. Lieto should never be the Vilkas.

"I will do what is needed until I get what I want," Lieto told her. "If I do become the Vilkas before that, then so be it."

The girl let go off his arm and shook her head. "You shame this family."

"And you, being a dog's whore," he yelled, gesturing to the room opposite the wall from them. "That is not shameful?"

Without thinking, Sairette struck her brother as hard as she could, leaving a red print on his white skin and scratches along his cheek. Lieto put his hand to his face. The contact of his fingers against the wounds stung, but he wasn't bleeding. He worked to calm himself as Sairette shrunk back from his gaze. There was always a calm before the storm.

"They will come looking for him, Sairette." His hand closed around the girl's throat as he brought his face close to hers. "They will come here and we will see what peace they bring."