4 Months before the death of Jon Arryn

Stann

Stann was no longer sure how long he had been north of the Wall. It had taken the ranging ten days to get from the Wall to the hill where he had deserted. From there, Stann had traveled further north for eight days by himself, before the Old One had healed him and sent him headed back to the south. That had been somewhere in the vicinity of three weeks ago, and he was still roughly five days from the Wall.

In that time, Stann had discerned three reasons to explain why his return trip to the Wall would take more than a week longer than his journey from the Wall. First, there had been a snow storm a few days past, which had deepened the snow and slowed Flight's pace. Second, Old One or no Old One, Stann was not relishing the thought of arriving at the Wall after what he had done. He was not dragging his feet, but Stann was certainly not pushing to get to the Wall faster.

This naturally led into the third reason Stann's return journey was taking so much longer than his northward one: when Stann had been going north, he had been in a hurry. After Stann's escape, he had pushed Flight as hard as he could without killing the horse. In those eight days, Stann had been moving almost twice as fast as the ranging had been. On the return, Stann was moving south at the same pace Benjen had set headed north.

Not only was Stann following Benjen's example by emulating his speed of travel, Stann was also following the First Ranger's path back to the Wall. There were no physical signs to follow, because it had been days since the Rangers had come through here, a month since Stann had traveled through this part of the Haunted Forest. But if Stann remembered correctly, and Stann was gambling much that he did, the friendly keep at which the ranging had stayed should appear in a mile or two.

When the ranging had stayed with Craster on the way north, he had only allowed them a place to stay grudgingly. Craster knew better than to deny Benjen Stark food and shelter if he wanted to retain his status as a friend of the Watch.

Whatever the man's status, Stann did not trust him. No man had as many daughters as Craster did without there being sons as well. Seeing as how there were no men except Craster in his holding, Stann knew Craster must do something to the males. He didn't know what Craster did, but it was reason enough for Stann to stay away.

Stann's uneasiness led him to angle Flight's path a little more to the west. Up to this point, Stann had been headed due south, as best he could tell. By due south, Stann meant he was headed more south than east or west. Perhaps this too was a reason his journey was taking longer than it should have.

Sudden sounds from the woods to the left startled Stann, who gripped the pommel of his sword tightly. He slid the blade part way from its sheath, barring steel, but did not fully draw the weapon.

What had at first been staccato sounds soon turned into a long, slow, slow rustling of leaves and branches punctuated by the sound of twigs being snapped underfoot. Whatever was making this noise was no animal.

Nervous, Stann wheeled Flight into a quarter-turn and began guiding him to the northwest, the direction exactly opposite of where the sound was coming from, as best Stann could tell. He didn't push Flight into a gallop, lest the significant amount of noise alert the other to Stann's presence.

One thing Stann had not heard from whoever was behind him was the sound of voices. For this reason, Stann guessed there was only one person in the forest. Because of the sheer amount of noise being made, Stann guessed it wasn't an Old One or a White Walker either. This made the source of the noise either a Wildling or a Wight. A Wight could be avoided or outrun, and a Wildling could be chased off by a mounted member of the Night's Watch, assuming, of course, that Stann would not lose his nerve. Stann was a lot of things, and brave was not one of them.

Suddenly, the rustling increased in speed and intensity. Whatever was causing the noise had accelerated, and was heading directly toward Stann.

"They must have found Flight's tracks in the snow" Stann thought as he brought the horse to a gallop.

Quickly, he left the rustling back in the distance. But Stann didn't get very far before he saw something large race toward him from the corner of his eye before the world went dark.

Stann awoke tied to a pole with a very old and incredibly ugly man standing over him. Stann guessed the man had once been powerfully built, but age had weakened his frame, and the cold had apparently taken one of his ears. He wore a smile on his face that made Stann think of everything evil in the world. This impression was heightened by the cadre of scared and mistreated women standing behind him.

"What to do with a deserter from the Night's Watch?" the man mused to himself as he paced back and forth. "There are many people who would love to get their hands on you.

"For starters, old Benjen would love to have you back. Crows that desert to Mance always cause the Night's Watch so much grief. I may not know anything about the last three, but I do have you. But then, Mance would love to have you too. His Weeper is good at making dainty little Crows squawk all of their secrets, and Mance could certainly use some extra information about the Watch.

"And then, of course, the Night King wants you too, for some reason. I can't imagine why.

"But no matter who I give you to, it will take time for them to come and collect, and in the meanwhile you'll be sitting in my hold taking up my space and eating my food. Winter is coming, you know. Maybe I should just kill you and be done with it.

"What do you say, little Crow? What should I do with you?"

"The Night's King wants me?" Stann asked, confused and more than slightly terrified.

"The Night King? You actually want the Night King?" Craster laughed. Stann realized in horror that Craster had taken his question as a suggestion. "You've got bigger stones than I would have guessed. But the problem is, if I give you to the Night King, I won't get anything I don't already have. But if I gift you to someone else I can get something else, as long as the Night King doesn't find out. What do you think of that?"

Stann was silent, mind reeling.

Craster rewarded Stann's silence with a solid kick to the ribs.

"I asked what you thought of that?"

"I want Mance" Stann said quickly. He hoped it might take long enough for Mance to come retrieve him that the Old One would appear and rescue him.

"You want Mance, huh?" Craster questioned. Stann was rewarded for his honesty with another kick to the gut. "You conniving little bastard" he snickered. "You want the Night King to come find you here." Stann's protestation of innocence earned him a third kick. This time, Stann heard something crack. "I'm going to send you back to the Watch."

The man waddled over to one of his younger wives, whom he grabbed by the hair and dragged back over to where Stann was tied.

"You are going to go to the Wall and tell the Watch we have one of theirs. If you are not back in three weeks, I am going to start killing off your sisters, then your mother, then your daughters. Every day you're not back after three weeks, someone is going to die. Do you understand?"

She nodded furiously.

"Good" he said. "Now get!" Craster gave his daughter a good kick to get her on her way.

"Now you" he said, turning back to Stann, "as long as you're here, you are going to be quiet, cooperative, and you are going to keep your eyes off my wives." The last part came out as a growl. "Do you understand?"

"Yes" Stann said meekly.

The next kick caught Stann in the chin, and the world again faded to black.