Dany, Jon, Arya and Edd sat in silence around the crackling fire. It was more than early, dawn was still hours away, and the ghostly moon haunted a blackened sky over the wood, quiet as a tomb. None seemed eager to try to find sleep again with their hostage seated among them, her hands bound.

Dany was alert, blood still pumping through her veins after the attack by the small group of wildlings. Even so, without the sunlight's sparse offerings, she was chilled to the bone. Jon wrapped his heavy cloak around her when he saw her shivering, and she stared at the flames, wishing she could surround herself with them and let their warmth caress her skin.

"Are there any more of you?" Jon asked the red haired girl, while he scanned the treeline, but she made no answer.

Arya studied her curiously. "You're a wildling?"

"I'm a woman of the free folk," said the redhead.

Arya perked up. "Is it true your women fight alongside your men?"

The wildling girl gave her a sly smile. "A free woman does what she will. I'm a spearwife myself."

"What's your name?" Jon asked.

"Ygritte," she answered, "and yours?"

He told her his name and the rest of theirs as well.

"That hawk a friend of yours?" Edd asked, tipping his head at a great ironwood tree where a hawk perched on a high branch. It looked like an ordinary bird, but the way it watched gave Dany an eerie feeling.

"Could be that he is," Ygritte said casually. "Whatever he is now, he hates you," she said to Jon. "And well he might. He was a man, before you killed him." Dany's skin prickled as she looked up at the hawk again.

"is that a skinchanger?" Arya blurted out.

"You ask a lot of questions for a kneeler," Ygritte remarked.

Arya narrowed her eyes at the hostage. "What's a kneeler?"

"What we call you southerners who live your lives under kings and lords," the wildling woman said.

Arya wrinkled her nose. "I'm not a southerner."

"Isn't Mance Rayder your king?" Dany asked her.

"We made Mance our leader and we can unmake him just the same," said Ygritte, "he'll take you if you like, if you want to know what it's like to truly be free."

Dany found the young woman had gone from intriguing to insufferable. "Where can we find this Mance Rayder that we might speak with him?"

Ygritte stared into the flames and said no more.

"Our best course is to fly over the Frostfangs," said Jon, "a large camp cannot hide well."

"If we do that," Edd replied, "we'll give ourselves away and be open to attack."

"We're not going to fight," said Dany, moving closer to the fire, "only to talk."

"If I'm understanding correctly," Edd said, "You're proposing we fly over the Frostfangs until we see the Wildling camp, touchdown and demand to speak with Mance Rayder. Then if he doesn't kill us or torture us for information, we're going to suggest a hypothetical truce we haven't quite sorted out yet."

Dany readjusted her hood to better warm her ears. "Your pessimism isn't as charming today as normal, Dolorous Edd." It was not the most well thought out plan but it wasn't as simple as sending a raven to arrange an audience with the King Beyond the Wall.

"I should be the one to speak with Mance," Jon stated. "It will be safer that way."

Expecting such a proposal, Dany kept her face even. "I'll agree to stay back if Edd goes with you." In truth, with the way her stomach was flipping, staying atop Dreamfyre sounded tempting.

"If anything should go wrong," Jon beseeched her, "you and Arya fly back to Castle Black at once." Dany nodded residedly, though in her heart she did not know if she could honor the promise. "Do you hear me, Arya?" Jon demanded of his little sister and she answered with a roll of her eyes.

Dany boiled water for tea while Jon and Edd packed up their meager camp. When it was done she handed a warm cup to the woman with the wild red curls. Ygritte took the cup, eyeing its contents before taking a sip.

"I don't know what I'd do without it in the morning," Dany told her, "I don't think I'll ever get used to the cold."

The wildling regarded her cautiously. "I thought all the dragons were long dead. Are there more in the south?"

"No, only Dreamfyre and Rhaegal ...and Viserion back at Castle Black," Dany replied. She sipped her tea, willing it to warm her bones. "They're scales are as warm as fresh baked bread. It will be better once we're in the air."

Ygritte eyed the dragons with trepidation. "You're expecting me to ride one of those things?"

Arya seated herself between them. "You should show more respect to something that could burn you to a crisp."

"They're perfectly safe so long as you're with me," Dany assured her.

"Perfectly safe? They don't look safe," Ygritte said, then added offhandedly, "but I've seen worse I suppose. Mag the Mighty might not make much of them. He could pluck them right out of the sky and pull their wings off 'em like they were no more than flies."

"Who's Mag the Mighty?" Arya asked.

"A giant who fights for the free folk," said Ygritte.

A giant? Dany's heart gave a little start and she pondered their plan skeptically. No matter, she collected herself, if anything tried to lay a finger on her children they would sorely regret it. "In my experience," Dany replied dispassionately, "flies don't breathe fire."

If the girl was intimidated by Dany's remark, she didn't show it as she turned her sights to where Jon stood packing their things away into Rhaegal's saddlebags. "That one there, is he yours?"

"Yes," Dany said.

"Do all southern lords look like that?" Ygritte asked with childlike curiosity.

"No," Dany smiled and took another sip of tea, "they do not."

"Best you keep him close," Ygritte told her. "Girls would claw each other's eyes out to have him inside them."

"Seven hells," Arya grumbled before leaving in a huff. Dany cleared her throat to hide a laugh.

"What is it you want with Mance?" Ygritte asked, "have you come to hunt us down like the crows do?"

"We've no desire to harm anyone," Dany told her. "The dead are what bring us here… and the white walkers." Cold blue eyes and the promise of unending winter. "They're a greater threat to all of us than we are to each other." She thought of the Children fighting side by side with men. This wasn't so different. "I know an alliance must seem improbable, but I believe we will be able to give you and all of the Wildlings safe passage through the Wall."

Ygritte lifted her chin. "I know we aren't Wildlings, we're free folk. I know that you southerners threw up a wall and said all the land was yours, and whether you let us through or not, we'll be crossing all the same. If the dead take you after we've crossed, it won't be us that mourns you."

Dany raised an eyebrow at the ill-tempered girl. "There won't be time to mourn, of course, because in the unlikely event you cross without our aid and the dead get to us before you, our risen flesh will be marching after yours." The girl made no reply and Dany let the conversation die as she fought a fresh wave of sickness. She wasn't the one they would need to make an arrangement with.

When the sun finally rose, Dany could see a sparkling frost had covered the trees so that every branch stood out like a flower in a dazzling bouquet. The pale yellow sun that peaked through the clouds had done little to break up the cold, but it didn't matter because soon she'd be bathed in the heat of dragon scales.

The Wildling girl stood beside Edd with her hands bound, mouth hanging open, mystified by Rhaegal and Dreamfyre. She would ride with Jon and Arya. They'd searched her for weapons, but the thought was unsettling all the same. Arya had promised Dany in a whisper that she'd pitch the girl over the side if she tried anything funny.

Packed and ready to make their journey, Dany took a moment to pet Dreamfyre's snout and murmur sweet words to him. Jon joined her, and offered the black dragon his own affection.

Dany stepped closer and spoke in hushed tones. "Have you been able to see Aemon lately?" In all the excitement she'd forgotten to ask, and scolded herself harshly. Ghost was a blessing in so many ways, but she was most grateful to him for providing a window to her babe.

"Last night, and again this morning," said Jon.

She searched him for any sign that something could be wrong. "How was he?"

"Asleep last night," he said, then added with a wistful smile, "and a happy little thing this morning. He has your temperament."

Her shoulders relaxed but her heart was sore. "I'm glad to hear it."

Jon's eyes softened. "Dany, we can fly back to Castle Black today if that's what you want."

If they made their way back now, she could have Little Aemon back in her arms by early afternoon tomorrow, and then they'd definitely have nothing to show for their excursion beyond the wall. "Not yet," she said, though it pained her, "but soon."

Dany felt something soft and cold caress her cheek and she looked up to see a sprinkling of snowflakes billowing down from the clouds. "Ha! It's snowing!" she proclaimed, holding out her hand to let them land tenderly inside her gloved palm.

"Didn't I promise?" Jon said, smiling warmly at her while she watched the white flakes speckle his dark hair.

"Would you have me believe you're responsible for the weather?" she teased.

Jon's mouth turned down into a frown, his mind now far away from the snowfall. "We need to be careful out there. This is not the best laid of plans, and we don't know what to expect. At the first sign of danger, we take off."

Dany nodded in agreement and then Arya's raised voice cut through the air, "Let's get mov- Jon!"

As Dany looked up, she saw a flash of blue lunging out of the sky from behind Jon. He gave a shocked and pained cry as the large dark bird attacked, a flurry of blue and grey feathers and a sharp kee-eee-arr before he fell to the ground. Dany fell beside them, filling her hands with it's flapping wings, finding them as delicate as they were strong.

Rhaegal's furious roar rumbled around then and the hawk left as swiftly as it came, darting back up to its high branch. It issued another sharp kee-eee-arr as it looked down on them.

"My eye," Jon sputtered, and her heart stopped at the sight of blood pooling through his fingers as he clutched his face. Her hand trembled as she pushed his aside and wiped the deep red blood away from his injured eye. She breathed a sigh of relief to find it intact, the laceration a deep gash through his eyebrow.

"It didn't get your eye," she assured him, her voice tight with alarm, "it's only blood."

Edd knelt next to Dany, getting a look at the wound himself. Arya came bustling beside them with Ygritte's bow taught in her hands, an arrow pointing at where the hawk was perched in the tree. It took off the moment she loosed the arrow, flying off into the distance unscathed.

"Why would a hawk do that?" she asked furiously.

"Skinchanger with a bloodlust most like," Edd answered.

"Orell his name was," Ygritte said solemnly, staring sadly at where the hawk had once perched.

Jon pulled himself to his feet with a growl. "Let's get moving. I want to find their camp while there's still plenty of daylight."

"Wait," Dany urged him, "that wound needs tending first."

Jon had no choice but to concede with blood still pooling from his brow, and he allowed her to wash away the blood, old and new, with fresh water. Edd showed Arya how to prepare the needle and she watched with rapt attention as the steward sewed up the angry tear. "Let's see Sansa do that with a needle," Arya remarked.

Jon's fingers trailed lightly over the freshly sewn wound. "Thank you, Edd," Jon said, "now let's go find this King Beyond the Wall."


The cold air helped sooth the throbbing gash above his brow. It was lucky he hadn't lost an eye or worse. He'd like to get his hands on that hellbird and roast it on a spit. Could the wildling man truly be inside his hawk after he'd been killed? It was strange to imagine living through his wolf's eyes after falling in battle.

He cast a glance over his shoulder to see Dany, Edd and Dreamfyre still behind them. She'd grown quiet over the past few days. Likely she ached for little Aemon. Jon missed him too. He'd be happy to bring her back to him if she weren't so bloody stubborn.

Arya was silent behind him, eyes peeled, taking in everything as they passed over the Frostfangs. Their red-haired hostage was silent too, and that was fine with him. He was eager to cut her loose the moment they landed.

As they flew over the valley of the Milkwater, a scattering of campfires and tents of hide and felted wool appeared below. Goats and sheep roamed the unstructured camp freely, and not just soldiers but women dancing and children running about. It seemed to stretch on forever, chaotic and defenseless. Any organized northern army would cut through them effortlessly.

He gaped in disbelief at what he saw next. Arya gasped behind him.

Massive creatures, more bearlike than human, could be seen riding mammoths just as wooly and hairy as them. They were at least twice the size of most grown men, with squashed faces and arms that hung down to their knees.

"Those are giants!" Arya cried.

"Riding mammoths…" said Jon.

"The last of the giants," Ygritte added bitterly, "thanks to you southerners and your wall."

Scores of men and women stopped in their tracks to look up at the dragons as they approached. A group of children bundled in furs stood together with reddened cheeks pointing up at the dragons and shouting in excitement. Landing outside the edge of the poorly organized camp, he and Arya dismounted quickly, and then he helped Ygritte climb down with her hands still bound.

"Tell Mance Rayder we'd like to speak with him, if you would, My Lady," he asked as he cut her bonds. She didn't answer before disappearing into the fast building crowd. He turned to Arya, "remember what I told you, little sister, when I agreed to take you with. Do as I say," and he commanded her to join Dany atop Dreamfyre, and to stay put.

Rhaegal and Dreamfyre moved restlessly as Jon and Edd stood between them, waiting for the King Beyond the Wall and watching for any signs of danger. Dreamfyre emitted a low warning growl, and a mother pulled her children away.

A man stepped forward from the crowd. For a helm he wore a cracked and yellowing skull, far bigger than the skull of a man. His armor was also covered in bones, loosely tied so that they rattled as he walked. Ygritte appeared again and stood beside him.

"Are you Mance Rayder?" Jon asked him.

A woman's voice called out from the crowd. "You mistake the Lord of Bones for our king?" A pretty blonde came forward, "you southerners must not be half as clever as you think."

A tall man with red hair and a red beard joined the pretty blonde. "A southern boy and a crow. The boy has a look of a Stark. I'm not so fond o' Starks." Rhaegal grumbled behind them and Jon flexed his sword hand.

"What is it you want with Mance?" the blonde asked.

"I'd speak to him about it," Jon answered.

The crowd parted and a slender man of middling height appeared before them. His hair was long and grey, with only a hint of the brown color it used to be. A woman walked beside him, round and heavy with child. "Welcome to my camp dragonriders. I am Mance Rayder, and you are Ned Stark's bastard."

Jon was nonplussed. "How… could you know...?

"We've been in each other's company before," said Mance, "but that's a story for another time."

"We wish no harm…" Jon started.

"That is good news," Mance answered, "I'd rather not kill you before I've learned why you're here. Your lovely travelling companions are safe to climb down. Even my Dalla is here," he gestured to the pregnant woman beside him, "not that I could keep her away."

Dalla smiled shyly. "A free woman goes where she will, and I could not resist the sight of dragons."

Jon looked back at Dany, and gave her a subtle nod though it filled him with dread. His wife and sister left Dreamfyre's protection, Dany marching toward them with the confidence of a seasoned battle commander. He marveled at the way she could hold herself in the presence of their enemies.

"Unless I'm dreaming," Mance said to Dany, "you must be Daenerys Targaryen. I thought you were only a babe."

"You are correct, Your Grace," Dany said, "although you can see I am no longer a child."

Mance Rayder laughed and then his eyes had a faraway look. "Time passes far too quickly. And dragons are back in the world. It seems all that was old and gone is waking up." He shook his head and looked between Jon and Dany. "We'd been hearing tales of dragons in the North, and that Ned Stark's bastard had become a dragonlord, but I didn't expect to see you here. It's cold out here for southerners. You're my guests now, come share my fire and mead."

Jon and Dany exchanged looks. Guest rites were sacred, even north of the Wall. "You honor us," Jon said in acceptance, "but I must caution your people to keep their distance from our dragons. They're protective and don't much care for strangers."

"Lord of Bones," Mance called to the man with the giant's skull helm, "see to it that no one goes near the dragons. These southerners are my guests."

Jon kept a watchful eye on Arya as they walked through the camp, Dany held close on his arm. People observed them with quiet fascination, but maintained a respectful distance as they walked through the disorganized camp.

Mance Rayder's tent was pleasantly hot and smoky. His woman, Dalla, set to cooking hen over a brazier while they exchanged introductions. They learned the blonde woman was Dalla's sister, Val, and the man with hair that was kissed by fire was Tormund Giantsbane.

Mance poured mead for himself. "How did a Targaryen girl from Essos fall into the company of the Snow of Winterfell?"

Dany took a small sip from her cup before answering. "Fate brought us together, Your Grace, just as fate has brought us here now."

"No need for titles, lass," Mance told her, "they don't exist here."

Dany smiled politely. "Jon came to me in Essos when he learned his true name. From there, we sailed to Westeros with three stone dragon eggs, and now we have living breathing dragons. When the time is right, we will take back our throne and everything that was stolen from us… but for now, I've been having dreams that have brought us here."

Mance regarded her with an unreadable expression. "It's a hard thing to win a throne without an army."

"You're right," Jon agreed, "but our dragons grow bigger everyday."

"You want to conquer your enemies with fire," Val remarked, "but fire is a fickle thing. You never know which way the flame will go."

"Forgive me," Mance said, "I've been a poor host, allow me to entertain you with a song."

"That's half the reason you were invited here," Val said with a smirk, "so he could play for you."

Mance paid her no mind as he picked up a lute leaning against the wall behind him, and began to sing and play.

The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,

and her kisses were warmer than spring.

But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,

and its kiss was a terrible thing.

The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,

in a voice that was sweet as a peach,

But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,

and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.

As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,

and the taste of his blood on his tongue,

His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,

and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,

"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,

the Dornishman's taken my life,

But what does it matter, for all men must die,

and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!

"How did you like my song?" Mance asked after his last chord faded away.

"You're a fair singer, Mance Rayder," Dany told him, "but I'm surprised to hear a familiar tune so far north. Would you share a song of the free folk?"

"Do you know the Last of the Giants?" Mance asked, and the moment Dany shook her head no, he began to pluck at the strings of his lute once again. "Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth."

Val grinned brightly. "The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth," she sang back.

Tormund raised his glass. "Oh the smallfolk have stolen my forests, they've stolen my rivers and hills." Dalla joined them and then all of their hosts were singing.

And the've built a great wall through my valleys,

and fished all the fish from my rills.

In stone halls they burn their great fires,

in stone halls they forge their sharp spears.

Whilst I walk alone in the mountains,

with no true companion but tears.

They hunt me with dogs in the daylight,

they hunt me with torches by night.

For these men who are small can never stand tall,

whilst giants still walk in the light.

Oooooooh, I am the LAST of the giants,

so learn well the words of my song.

For when I am gone the singing will fade,

and the silence shall last long and long.

When they'd finished their song, Dany wiped tears from her eyes. "A beautiful song. I liked it much better."

"I think I might like this one," Val said, gesturing to Dany, "she has good taste, and it's a free woman who can ride a dragon. Perhaps she'll teach me. The world would be much sweeter to a woman who rides a dragon."

Dany laughed heartily. "Would that I could. Then I'd fill the sky with a fleet of women warriors."

Dalla served them each half a hen and joined them while they ate. Dany asked Dalla about her pregnancy, learning this would be their first child, and she told Dalla of little Aemon back at Castle Black.

Mance set his sights on Jon and Arya. "I've still to tell you how it is I know you Stark children by sight." He told them a tale that left him and Arya bewildered and amused. Of how he crossed over the Wall with his lute and travelled to Winterfell when King Robert made his royal visit. How he seated himself among them in the great hall with the freeriders and bards, eating and drinking, and enjoying the songs played in the hall that night. He caught sight of all of the Stark children and their young wolf pups.

"If father would have found out…" Arya started and then halted her words.

"He'd have taken my head," Mance finished her sentence, "though after I'd taken meat and mead from his table, I was protected by guest rites… just as you are now." He finished his cup and then his expression turned serious. "Now, tell me why you've come."

"Daenerys has been plagued by dreams of the army of the dead," said Jon, "we believe they will march on the Wall."

Mance eyed him dubiously. "The Wall was built thousands of years ago to protect you southerners from what's behind it. What makes you believe it won't stand now?"

Dany turned her attention to their conversation. "If you can cross over the Wall for a night in Winterfell or if you believe your army can overrun Castle Black, what's to stop a horde of dead men?"

"It only makes sense," Jon said, "that the free folk and the Watch, and the North should join together against a common enemy."

"You don't want our numbers to swell the army of the dead," Mance replied flatly.

"We don't want your people to die," Dany declared passionately.

"You don't care for the free folk," Mance said simply, "that's not why you've come. What are you offering?"

"Safe passage through the Wall," Jon offered.

"And how will you grant that?" Mance asked. "You're no crow, certainly not their commander."

"I've every reason to believe Alliser Thorne will be the 998th Commander of the Night's Watch," said Jon, "and he'll let you cross if I ask him to."

Mance studied Jon thoughtfully. "And if that were to happen, what is it you would expect in return?"

"An alliance against the army of the dead," Dany interjected.

The look Mance gave Dany was almost regretful. "You cannot fight the dead, Daenerys Targaryen. No one knows that so well as us. When the dead walk swords and spears mean nothing."

"That's not entirely true," Jon told him. "I killed a white walker myself with Valyrian steel, and my friend Sam, killed one with a dragon glass dagger."

"And Sam's a bloody craven," Edd added, reminding Jon the steward was there.

"We also have three dragons," said Dany.

Mance gave her a stony expression. "I've no doubt you and those beasts could burn much of the dead, but it might not be as simple as you think. If you tried to use them to stop us, many of our number would die, yes, but we'd keep coming all the same. The army of the dead has giants, the same as mine… and their reach is long."

Jon pulled out a dragonglass dagger from his person. Tormund and Val stood at once, drawing weapons of their own, ready to protect their king. Jon put up his hands, and when they were satisfied they returned to their seats. Jon handed Mance Rayder the dagger hilt first. "For you."

Mance examined the blade. "Many thanks. I'm sure I'll have cause to see if it works. We will march on the Wall, and we'll be reaching the other side one way or another. Perhaps we'll meet at Castle Black, and I'll sing you another song."


They returned to Dreamfyre and Rhaegal relieved to find them untroubled and even more relieved to find that no curious onlookers had been harmed. Deciding to fly back into the foothills of the Frostfangs, they would set up camp early to determine their next course.

Dany's stomach had settled as the day progressed, their time with the free folk enlivening her. They'd been unsuccessful in coming to an agreement with Mance Rayder but that would have been an unreasonable expectation after a single meeting. At least they'd shared each other's company, and what was diplomacy if not the building of relationships?

When they'd set out, the late afternoon sun had still been high in the sky with a scattering of white clouds. Snow was falling again, as it had that morning, light and easy frosty kisses upon her cheeks. However, as they drew over the Frostfangs once again, dark storm clouds gathered in the icy reflection of the great lake below, and the wind began to whip. The airy and gentle snowflakes grew fat and heavy, pelting her face now as she struggled to see. The world around her turned white.

"We have to land!" she heard Edd call behind her. She thought she heard Jon call her name. She could just make out Rhaegal's form ahead and followed as they descended, hoping Dreamfyre's eyes could penetrate through snow better than hers.

The landing was harder than she'd anticipated and she lurched forward in her seat while Dreamfyre screeched. It was hard to make out their surroundings, and when Jon, Rhaegal and Arya were nowhere to be seen, her heart began to race.

Dany slid down Dreamfyre's wing, nearly losing her balance on the icy ground. "Jon!" she cried out into the white void.

"Dany!" she heard him call back.

Edd took her by the arm. "This way," he told her, "I know where we are."

They plodded toward the sound of Jon's voice, Dreamfyre keeping pace, testy from the surprise blizzard. The air turned brutally cold, the biting wind nipped her cheeks and her feet were going numb. When she was able to see Jon, he was arms length away, and he pulled her in a rush into the mouth of a cave. Arya was seated at a meager fire at the deepest part and Dany made her way there forthwith.

The cave sheltered them from the wind, the dragons providing further protection laying in its mouth. Her toes began to sting as she sat near the fire, but undoubtedly that was better than numb.

Jon and Edd joined them, the four of them huddled together, the wind outside a witch's shriek.

As the storm raged outside, Dany began to feel more afraid than cold. "Is this what it was like when the dead came, Edd?"

Dolorous Edd's face was more grim than usual. "Aye," he said, "but I suspect we won't be the target tonight."

Arya sat up alert, eyes shifting around the small cave. "I think I hear screaming."

"That's just the wind," Jon said.

"If the dead are out there, all of those people are going to die. Children and babies… we have to go back."

"We could barely see out there," said Jon.

"We saw well enough," Dany replied, "we can find our way back to their camp."

Jon grimaced. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"What choice do we have?" said Dany.

"Alright," Jon said resignedly, "but we have to wait for the wind to die down some or we'll be no use to anyone."

They stayed quietly by the fire, watching the white tempest rage outside the cave. When the winds lost some of their power, and the sky seemed to lighten, Jon rose to his feet. "You'll come with me, Arya," he ordered, throwing Longclaw back over his shoulder.

"Best we stick together then," Edd said, fastening his cloak and grabbing his sword.

Jon helped Dany to her feet and straightened her cloak. "You're too damned brave, Daenerys," he told her somberly, "don't do anything reckless up there." He drew her in and kissed her deep and quick before making his way to the dragons. "Keep your head down and hold tight," he told Arya.


Jon's stomach was in knots. He was sure this was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and if they survived, he promised himself he would start objecting to these acts of suicidal heroism. Thankfully, the wind had died down enough and the visibility was slightly improved. He still struggled to see far ahead of him, but at least he was sure they'd not smash into the face of a mountain.

As they neared the camp, the sounds of a raging battle could be heard. Hair-raising screams, shouts and the crash of steel rose up. As they flew down the slope, men, women and children could be seen, running for their lives, far below like ants scattering after their home's been destroyed. His heart pounded in his ears when he first saw the dead, quick and relentless, an unstoppable horde, swarming any man or woman brave or desperate enough to stand their ground.

The dead were a mangy mob, naked bones and gaping eye sockets that glowed blue, whips of dry hair still flowing from sparse patches of scalp. Some carried rusted swords, remnants of armor still adorning what was left of their bodies. Even in the blistering cold he could smell them, stale death like a mixture of crypt and the dungeons of Harrenhal.

Surveying the violence below, he took a breath to determine where best to aim to avoid washing the innocent in flames. He set his sights on a fast moving pack of wights. "Dracarys!" he bellowed so loudly it stung his lungs, and the dead went up in the bright flames like dry kindling.

A twin orange flame burned in his peripheral. Dreamfyre flying closer to the ground than Jon liked. Suddenly, a dead giant appeared in the seething horde below. Black hair matching the deep black holes where it's eyes once were. Rhaegal darted higher before it could reach him with its five great finger bones, and soon, it too was bathed in flame.

Flying back and forth, they burned the throngs of wights which seemed to come from a never-ending source. Some of the creatures he saw he'd never have imagined. A massive white snow bear with bright blue eyes, a hunk of flesh dug out of his side revealing his rotting rib cage. Dead horses and stags, shadow cats and ice spiders. All rotting flesh vitalized with burning blue eyes.

The free folk were no longer in sight, and he could only hope they'd given them enough time to break away. The dead kept coming without end, running right into the dragon's inferno, unaware and unafraid. They couldn't stop them all, and many streamed past them, stalking after the living now running through the pass on foot. No, they could not burn them all. They needed to retreat with the camp, and burn the dead that still followed.

Dany was out of earshot, but he could see her atop Dreamfyre in the distance. Jon urged Rhaegal toward her when the beast suddenly halted midair. Directly below them, the multitude of dead parted, giving a wide berth to the human-like creature below. It stared up at Jon with calm curiosity. LIttle of it's features were discernible below a dark night sky, but Jon was certain it wasn't dead.

"JON!" Ayra shouted behind him.

Another giant had appeared below them, this one nothing but a great hulking skeleton. Narrowly, Rhaegal dodged away before it could take hold of his wing, and then Dany's voice called "Dracarys!" loud and clear and the great dead giant crumpled down awash in orange flame.

"Follow me!" he cried to her, and he turned Rhaegal sharpley back towards the camp, lighting up the patches of the foul and murderous dead running below.

When they found the free folk again, the black night sky was fading to a lighter purple hue. A scattering of fires had been lit, survivors huddled around them for warmth. They landed in a clearing on the edge of the camp, and Jon dismounted and helped Ayra climb down.

She was unusually quiet and he tilted her chin up and studied her face. "Are you alright, little sister?" She stared at him a moment too long before she nodded. A dark smudge of soot was on her pale cheek and he wiped it away."You're safe now," he promised her, "I won't let anything happen to you."

"Did you see him?" Arya asked, "the strange man?"

"Yes", he admitted, "a white walker I suspect." Whatever the creature was, it had left him feeling shaken too. "Let's find a fire to warm ourselves by. Things will seem better once the sun's up."

Dany rushed toward him and he wrapped her in a tight embrace. "I thought that giant was going to take you," she told him shakily.

"It didn't stand a chance," he said, brushing her hair back from her face, "with you there to save me." She pressed her head against his shoulder, and Edd came into view. "How are you faring, Edd?"

The steward looked around the camp while he considered. "Better than I did after my first encounter with the dead. Either I'm improving or their worsening."

Mance Rayder approached them, flanked by Tormund and the Lord of Bones. "You have our thanks, dragonriders. No doubt many more lives would have been lost tonight without your help. Please share my fire. We'll rest a few hours before we move on."

"What of Dalla and Val?" Dany asked.

"Dalla and her sister are safe," Mance answered, "finding rest, as we all should."

The four of them stretched out their bedrolls beside a roaring fire, Dany was warm and soft beside him, and he was grateful to the old gods for their mercy.

As the camp quieted, the sounds of wailing and crying of the bereft and injured pierced through what remained of night. Even in the dark he could see Arya staring up at the sky.

Dany took his little sister's hand, and Arya did not pull away. A few moments later, Arya closed her eyes, and when he felt Dany's breathing fall into a gentle rhythm, he allowed himself to find rest as well.