Meera and Arya had been riding long and hard, looking for Jon. Theon had always irritated her but he deserved what he got. Robb was too easy and soft with him. Oh, she knew that he considered him to be a brother and friend, but that was the last thing he would ever be. Arya would easily name Jon a Stark rather than Theon if given the chance.

Jon was good. Honourable. Loyal. So much like father. In face, temperament, and eyes. Her father's eyes. My eyes.

"Do you think we can find him?" Meera said. She looked unsteady on her horse. But that was somewhat expected. The crannogmen lived in the swamplands of the Neck. They don't have any real need for horses. When Meera told her that Jon had barely been on a horse, she couldn't believe it. He rides like he was born to it. She didn't understand what exactly makes them so craven. Meera doesn't appear to be craven. Jojen though ... Something was awfully strange about him. He's been spending most of his time praying underneath the heart tree in the godswood. He reminds me of Father too somehow.

"I know we will"

"We don't have any clue as to where he could be though!"

"We will find him Meera!"

The wolf plagued his thoughts as he wandered around the area. Just what was she trying to tell me?

Suddenly, he heard something move. Jon began to hope and pray that the wolf was coming back; giving him an answer to its presence. Was there some meaning as to why the direwolf came to me?

"Who are you and what're ya doin'?" a thin wiry man said, coming from behind a large sentinel.

"My name is Jon. My horse took me here and ... it appears I'm lost"

"Well, you're in luck, lad. Name's Watt. And no one knows these part of the woods like I do."

"Do you mind telling me just where we are?" Jon asked as he kept walking alongside Watt.

"Well, we just past the Long Lake about a couple o' paces past. We keep at this pace, well, we should be headed toward the Last Hearth. Can't ever understand why anyone would build a keep so close to the northern mountains"

"Why? Why would they?"

"You're not from around these parts, aren't you lad? What'd you say you're name was?"

"Jon. Jon Snow" he said somberly.

"A Snow, eh? Never met a bastard before. You sure you're a Northman? Well, you've certainly got the look of one!" Watt japed.

"Not exactly. I grew up south as North would be. In the Neck"

"The Neck?! Ya mean to tell me that you grew up with them nasty bog-devils?!"

"OY! I did, and I consider them to be my family! The Reeds have always been my family!" Suddenly, his mind raced to Meera. Was she worried about me? She often worries too much.

A loud and strange guttural sound came howling about. Suddenly, a thick, blond-haired man, with watery eyes and a large curved scythe in his hand came crashing out from a bush.

"Who or what the hell is that?" Jon cried out.

"The Weeper. You good with that sword, boy?" Watt said in a panicked voice.

"Not exactly!"

"Then ... RUN!"

Jon then grabbed Watt by one of his hands and began to run as fast as his legs could carry him.

The Weeper continued with a guttural war cry and began to make haste.

"Are we any where close to any of the mountain clans or the Last Hearth?!" Jon cried out

"Don't know. Sure hope so!"

Suddenly, they tripped on something. Jon had never felt more petrified with fear in his entire life. He had been able to bring down a lizard-lion once but that was mostly by sheer luck. He didn't know what drove him in that moment but suddenly, he gripped the blunted blade he had on his back and swung hard. The blunted steel crashing the steel of the Weeper's scythe. The Weeper's fighting was clearly wild but Jon's wasn't. He had manage to avoid the Weeper's attacks, blocking any blows from his scythe. Then, he struck him across the face.

Before the man could react, an arrow suddenly flew by. He looked behind him and saw an old man, huge and powerful, with a ruddy face and a shaggy white beard. He has a stained white leather eye patch and a cloak made of a snow bear with its head as a hood.

"Get off of my lands, you wildling weepin whore!" the large grizzled man said.

The Weeper immediately heeded his plea and ran off.

"You alright lads?" the man asked.

"W-W-We're alright, Mors?"

Mors suddenly looked to Jon, looking dazed and confused. "And who are you supposed to be, eh, lad?"

"My name is Jon Snow."

"Mors Umber. Most men call me Crowfood. Well, I'll be giant's uncle! For a moment there, I thought you were Ned Stark! You look enough like him"

"Lord Eddard Stark is my father"

Crowfood then looked at him even more confused. "You have more of the Stark look than his own boy, I'll tell you that much. Bastard or not, any blood of the Stark's is welcome into our home. And bring Watt with ya. He looks like he's gonna piss himself again!"