Chapter Nine: The Wall
I'm out setting snares and hunting first thing in the morning. There's a deer out there and I want it. First I check near the lake in case it's gone there for a drink, but after slaking my own thirst, I follow a set of tracks that take me east again. Just north of my camp. It must've been quite familiar with the area and the fact that there were hungry humans inhabiting it, so it went up and around.
Well, I can do that too. Bow in hand, I track it down and spook it into heading south. If – when – I hit it, I don't want to have to drag it back a long way. As if the gigantic white tree with the red leaves and the gaping mouth isn't spooky enough to send it in the other direction…
I record it for Beetee, of course, but that thing gives me the creeps. As far away as I've gotten, I can still feel it watching me.
The deer keeps evading me. At least it's heading farther south. I know I'm close to the camp now, and I know I'm catching up. Today, the deer is mine; it's only a matter of time.
Spotting it again through the trees, I move soft and swift across the snow. It's meandering slowly south, turning its head and sniffing the air as if unsure. As I gingerly pull my bowstring back, its ear does a little twitch.
But I've got it. I know I've got it. No distractions this time. I calm myself with the gentlest breath. Narrow my eyes. Ready my fingers to set the arrow loose…
And that's when the stupid cat comes flying across the forest floor, bolting after a terrified rabbit that scampers right in front of my own prey's path. Sufficiently freaked out, the deer gives a start and moves to flee. Cursing under my breath, I act fast and adjust my aim, releasing the arrow. The deer falls.
I'd cheer, but I'm absolutely furious.
"You damn cat!" I snarl, chasing after him. Cats are fast, but so am I when I'm angry.
Buttercup skids across the snow, weaving through the trees with – admittedly – the same determination I had hunting that deer. He's an old cat, and sure he's been keeping up with me on this journey, but I'm still begrudgingly amazed he has it in him, this bizarre stamina. Maybe he knows that he's dead meat when I catch him.
Spare him for Prim, spare him for Prim, spare him for Prim, I have to keep chanting to myself in my head as a reminder. He's Prim's cat. Prim, Prim, Prim…
That doesn't mean I can't plan a little revenge. Once I get my hands on him, I swear…
I burst through the trees, emerging at the edge of the forest where the snow begins to thin out into trampled slush and dirt. Once the landscape is firm and flat, it doesn't take long for Buttercup to speed up and pounce upon his prey. I don't want to interrupt, so I clench my fists and take this moment to try and catch my breath.
Of course, when I raise my eyes, the sight in front of me steals it away again.
I'm trembling as I let my gaze climb ever higher, shuddered breaths finally coming out in broken puffs. My fingers fumble blindly with the microphone and camera in my haste to contact Beetee. He needs to see what I'm seeing. He needs to see it now.
"Beetee," I murmur, feeling unfathomably small. "I'm here."
The grandeur of the Wall simply cannot be overstated. My dreams as of late were correct in picturing it as a mountain of ice and snow, but they never could have done it justice. The glimpse I got of it the other night could not do it justice. It reaches hundreds of feet into the air and stretches across the horizon from east to west as far as I can possibly see. Glistening, sparkling in the sun as if it were made of diamonds and opals and moonstone. There's a gate in the near distance, but compared to the colossal fortress it's built into, it looks like the tiniest of mouse holes.
Beetee breathes out a rather colorful curse of disbelief. "Now that's a Wall…"
I fixate on the gate and glance up from that point. A lookout post protrudes from the top. It's a long way up, but I can see people standing there. Four of them in particular, like ants on a hill. Three are dark specks, one blacker than the others. The fourth is red like fire, and from their movements, I wonder if this person is looking directly at me. My suspicions heighten when the other three turn to look as well.
"It's Castle Black," I say with growing certainty, a particular decisiveness in the way I shift my quiver on my shoulder. "I'm going over there."
Stealing the rabbit from Buttercup, I stuff it and the cat in my game bag and start to march back to the camp site. Then I remember what else led me out here and bring the deer back with me. If I'm sent back here, then at least I'll have dinner waiting for me. If not, I can tell them where to find it. Grabbing my pack, I pull together my things, put on my mockingjay pin for luck, and head straight to the edge of the forest. Emerging from the trees once more, I stride across the former battlefield with a purpose. There's still carnage here and there; I make my way around it. I'm no longer trembling.
Buttercup yowls unhappily from inside the game bag, so I start singing to myself to either shut him up or drown him out. After days and hours of walking, I've waited too long for this and I'm not going to let him spoil my triumph.
My singing finally dies down at the sound of the gate rumbling. It rises slowly and noisily, revealing more men in black furs and cloaks wielding torches.
"Who are you?" asks one, young-faced despite his shoulder-length grey-brown hair. He squints at me, more pensive than distrusting. "A wildling? You don't look it, but…"
"I'm not," I say, although I still don't know what exactly a wildling is. "My name's Katniss Everdeen. I was sent by a man of the Night's Watch. Benjen Stark?"
His eyes grow a fraction wider. Briefly he turns and mouths something to his friends, then looks back at me with furrowed brows.
"Benjen Stark has been lost beyond the Wall for years," he tells me, his voice dripping with doubt.
"I saw him a few days ago, northwest of here," I respond matter-of-factly. "He saved my life, told me to go to Castle Black and get south of the Wall. Said he has a nephew here named Jon. I have a message for him."
The man hesitates, shares another look with the others, and gives a small nod. "We'll bring her in," he says. "Let her speak to Ser Alliser."
His companions gesture for me to come along, leading me into a cold, dark tunnel. I glance left and right as we pass through, feeling very much aware of the fact that I'm walking beneath several hundred feet of ice and snow. Soon the gate closes behind us, the torches now our only source of light in the crushing darkness.
At the other end of the tunnel is another gate, which is now rising as we approach. When we step out under the pale sky again, my new Night's Watch friend halts me and strides ahead, calling out to a commander.
I examine my new surroundings, the courtyard of what appears to be Castle Black. It smells of hay and sweat and smoke, something I'm sure will grow on me. There's a wooden staircase above my head. Lots of stone buildings and wooden stairs and platforms, all dusted in snow. Men are bustling about, some carrying building logs for another pyre, others practicing their swordsmanship as if this is their Training Center. A few of them stop what they're doing when they notice me. Nearby, a rhythmic clanging of hammer against anvil slows significantly.
Unnerved by their stares, I try to look scary and unapproachable. It's what I do best.
The grey-haired guy returns, bringing an older, harder-looking man with black eyes that gleam like a predator's at the sight of me. This must be the commander he was calling for.
"Haven't we brought enough wildlings through this gate?" he rasps, in a stony, frigid tone that holds no welcome for me. "Now we're letting them feed us lies?"
"Alright, what is a wildling?" I ask, keeping a cool mask to hide my exasperation. "I don't even know what that means."
"I'm sure you prefer the term free-folk," he sneers. "But 'round here, you're a wildling, girl. You belong north of the Wall."
"According to Benjen, I'm not," I respond evenly, maintaining eye contact. "He also said it was too dangerous for me out there. Said I needed to come south to Castle Black. Said to ask for his nephew Jon. That he'd keep me safe here."
The commander's mouth forms a paper-thin smile. "What else did Benjen Stark say to you?" he asks. His voice reminds me of a lizard mutt's hiss.
Buttercup gives a muffled growl from within my game bag. I elbow it from behind to shut him up.
"After he helped me during a run-in with the white walkers, he told me they can only be killed with fire and dragonglass," I answer. Maybe this bit of information will be worth something.
When he looks only mildly fazed, I rack my brains for something else.
"He said when he first saw me, he thought he'd seen a ghost," I tell him, and search the faces of the other men surrounding me. "Do I look like someone he used to know? Someone who's dead?"
A silence falls over us. Some of them study me pensively. Others exchange glances, and more turn expectantly to a man who looks older than most of them.
"His sister Lyanna," the man speaks up, as realization dawns. "She looks just like her."
Annoyance lingers on the commander's face, but after a pause, he turns to the grey-haired guy. "Well, go on, Tollett," he orders. "Fetch the bastard."
Without hesitation, Tollett rushes across the courtyard. "Jon!"
My eyes trail after him, curious, as he stops in front of some figures who are standing in front of a platform with a cage-like elevator. I catch a glimpse of black and red before he blocks them from view. Then I bring my attention back to the commander. He doesn't seem happy.
"There's a deer back at the abandoned camp in those woods," I say, gesturing over my shoulder. "I just took it down this morning. If your men want it, they're welcome to it."
"Oh, you're quite a little huntress, then, aren't you…" he responds dryly. He nods to some of his men, then glances towards Tollett again. His eyes flash with impatience as they lock on a target, and he raises his voice. "This girl claims to have seen your uncle!"
Following his gaze, I turn my head to meet this Jon, and recognition strikes me through the heart like a breathtaking winter wind. The boy with black curls, the man of the Night's Watch I saw mourning his lover just last night, advances towards me and not away this time, his grey eyes solemn yet alight with hope.
"Uncle Benjen?" he asks. Demands, even, though he's not harsh but desperate as he hastens across the courtyard. "You saw him – where is he?"
We're now face to face, and I know I have to be careful about my words. After what I witnessed yesterday, I don't want to give him another reason to grieve. I can't let his hopes be dashed. But looking into his eyes, darker and even more intense than his uncle's, I feel my resolve crumbling to a pathetic murmur. "He can't come back just yet."
Those Seam-grey eyes fill with worry and endless questions. If he asks too many, I fear I won't be able to answer. "But he's alive?"
Like that one.
I swallow hard, steeling my nerves. "He was up and riding the last time I saw him," I tell him truthfully. "That was five days ago. He came to my rescue when I was surrounded by white walkers. Then he sent me here, to get beyond the Wall and find you. He wanted you to know he's still out there, fighting."
Jon's features relax. There's still worry, of course, but he breathes out a sigh of relief and turns to Tollett with a small smile. His friend doesn't seem the smiling type, but he does look happy for him.
The commander, on the other hand, doesn't share in their joy.
"You believe every word of that, do you?" he sneers at Jon. "A pretty girl comes south of the Wall claiming a ranger who hasn't returned to Castle Black in years is alive and well out there by himself, and you eat it up like a cube of sugar from the palm of her hand. Are we to believe she's not a wildling just because she has the face of a dead girl? She might've been the one who killed him."
"What, three, four years ago?" Tollett scoffs. "She's just a girl, Ser Alliser. She can't be older than eighteen."
"Even their girls start killing young," Ser Alliser intones.
"She doesn't dress like a wildling," another man says.
"Stolen clothes," Ser Alliser counters. "Off some highborn girl."
"That she met beyond the Wall?" asks another brave soul. "She doesn't dress like any highborn I've ever met."
"And you've met many highborns, have you?" Ser Alliser flings back at him. His beady eyes shift back to me, glinting with suspicion. "Well, if you're not from beyond the Wall, then where do you come from?"
I open my mouth to answer, but how can I? My name is Katniss Everdeen. My home is District Twelve…
There is no District Twelve. It doesn't even exist here…
"She is from neither north of the Wall nor south of it," comes a silky feminine voice from behind Jon and Ser Alliser. They turn in surprise, parting to reveal an auburn-haired woman dressed in red.
She stares at me, smiling, and I recognize the feel of her piercing red gaze. She's the same fire ant who was watching me from the top of the Wall.
"Let her pass, Ser Alliser," she continues. "It was the Lord of Light who brought her here."
And then, from safely tucked inside my ear: "The name's Beetee, actually."
It's all I can do not to break into a grin. I manage to purse my lips and transform my restrained snicker into a sigh of relief.
Ser Alliser's face sours, clearly not wanting to take any order from this woman. But then his focus shifts to the person who appears next to her – a tall, humorless, somewhat regal-looking man who looks like he could call for his execution with a snap of his fingers at the slightest hint of disrespect – and his expression cools. He sends Jon and me a look of poorly veiled distaste before storming away.
"She's under your care now, Lord Snow," he proclaims without looking back. "You couldn't protect your first wildling whore, let's hope you do a better job with this one."
The "Lord Snow" part briefly throws me for a loop, bouncing around uncomprehendingly in my head, then the rest registers as a mix of rage and grief smolders in Jon's eyes and he almost lunges for blood. Tollett's reflexes are fast enough to stop him, holding him back by the shoulders.
As he mutters something to Jon, I gaze past them to the woman in the wine-red dress. She smiles at me again – no, it's more of a knowing smirk – before turning gracefully away to walk with the stern middle-aged man beside her.
For some reason, she deeply unnerves me. I'm grateful that she vouched for me, however much I hate to owe people. But then I remember how she did it. What she said.
She is from neither north of the Wall nor south of it.
This makes no sense, but it's also true. How does she know…? What does she know?
Jon turns back to me with an apologetic smile, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Ser Alliser Thorne," he tells me. "He's acting Lord Commander of the Night's Watch."
"And, let me guess, one of your oldest and dearest friends," I quip.
He actually laughs, with a soft shake of his head. His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Not quite," he admits, and looks more closely at me. "What's your name?"
"Katniss Everdeen," I say, only a little distracted by the scars that run vertically from eyebrow to cheek.
Of course, the scars do nothing to mar his objectively attractive features. If anything, they add to his appeal. With his dark curly hair, serious eyes, subtle scars, and slight beard, he has an air of personified winter about him. Fierce, severe, and beautiful, almost like a wolf.
Then he opens his mouth and says the only three words that could shatter all of that.
"I'm Jon Snow."