Jon had little trouble following the trail Sam left. Gods, he thought to himself, even Maester Aemon could follow this trail easy enough. Ghost kept pace with him easily. Sam had a few hours head start at least, but Jon had little doubt about being able to catch him up soon enough. He wasn't on his way to the grove of Heart Trees like he originally thought. In fact, he didn't seem to have any destination in mind, nothing at least Jon Snow could think of that lay this way. After a few quick hours he found the scene where it happened. Sam's horse was down, obviously dead. Ghost padded over to him and sniffed around before shying away with a growl. Besides it's broken leg, it looked like some savage creature had eaten out its throat. All Sam's meager supplies lay scattered about, but no sign of the fat lordling. Jon heaved a sighed and dismounted, some vague notion about searching for clues running through his troubled mind.
A few minutes later he heard Pyp and Grenn finally ride up. "Don't bother waiting for us Lord Snow, no, we can take care of ourselves. Even an aurochs could follow that trail, and luckily I had Grenn here with me." Pyp chuckled, but they both came up short when they caught sight of the scene of bloody slaughter. Jon gave them a quick glance while taking his own mount. "There's not much to see, but Ghost seems to have caught Sam's scent from his cloak. Let's get a move on, I don't want to imagine what happened here or what might be happening to him." Ghost trotted off and they kicked their horses to follow.
Sam thought he was dead. Finally, he thought, I've been put out of my misery. No more longings for the forbidden Bastard of Stark to worry about. No more tolerating Ser Alliser's cruel japes. No more long, cold nights with nothing but hard bread and beans to feast on. Just let it all end. Why does death feel so achy? Sam peeked his eyes open, he could barely make out that he was in some deep cavern, bound hand and foot, thrown into the corner of some type of cell. Others were gathered around him - not The Others - just what appeared to be some wildlings and free folk. He sat up with a start, finally remembering his horse falling, landing nearly on top of the Wight and passing out from fear. He glances around, trying to take in the whole situation at once, got dizzy, and slumped back against a wall.
"Look, the fat crow is awake. Hey crow - will your brother's be out searching for you? Any chance we will be rescued before they turn us all?" The speaker was a young boy - really no more than 10 or 11. What looked to be his mother quickly grabbed him by the ear and pulled him away from Sam. "Your pardons, black brother, he's a willful child. We are all a bit frightened, just wondering if you know what they are up to? Why slaughter half of us and carry back the rest to this awful place? Any idea where we even are? Or what is to happen to us?"
Sam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Turn who what? What did he say?" The lady and the rest looked very troubled, but Sam just gazed at them with his little inquisitive piggy eyes, searching for the truth. "I don't know much, probably not any more than you. I thought I was dead... was hoping..." he trailed off, realizing he was thinking aloud. "What's this business about turning people? I thought Wights were just the dead brought back by The Others after being killed somehow? What is happening?" Sam was confused. He wishes Jon was here; Jon would know what to do and calm him, he always did.
Everyone was staring at him. He hated when people stared, he knew they were all thinking about how stupid and fat he was. His father always said so. A few seconds later the giant cell door clanked open, standing in its place was a huge foul, dead thing. It must have been a giant once, Sam thought. He stood at least nine feet tall, dressed up blue and grey and white rags. He didn't say a word, simply stared a few moments, then slowly raised his hand to point out a few people. One was the boy who had spoken up, another his fretful mother, who gave out a retched sob, one last a small wiry man who didn't look long for this world. The three didn't question, they meekly started following the creature out. He turned to go, but suddenly his eyes flared blue and he turned back, a grin seeming to split his face apart. He pointed once again, this time right at Sam. Lord Tarly would be ashamed, Sam thought to himself as his bladder let go and he soiled his smallclothes.
After around an hour following Ghost with hardly a stop, they came upon the entrance of some sort of cavern. The three dismounted and tied up their horses to a fallen oak not far away. "Ok... let's not be stupid and rush into anything. Gather up some wood, we can make a few torches." Jon pointed in a few likely spots and Grenn and Pyp walked off to gather some wood. Ghost seemed agitated, anxious to head down into the caves. Lord Snow spared him a glance before starting to unpack supplies from the mounts - most anything he could think that would be of help. 'This is really turning into one of those save the fairy princess stories Old Nan used to tell to Sansa' he thought to himself... but this time he was the prince, and Sam the fat, noble princess. How romantic, he chuckled to himself.
"What's so funny?" Pyp pipped up, returning with some branches. "Here's your fags Jon..." Grenn added, glancing askance at Pip and giving a none-so-subtle wink.
Jon paused a moment, "Right... uh.. let's go. I've gathered everything - rags for bandages, rope, what food is left... let's just go." They descended into the cavern, Ghost and Jon in the lead with his Valyrian steel and a torch, Pyp taking the middle with most of the supplies and Grenn the rear guard armed with a long spear. It was a bit slow going, trying to be as quiet as possible, with Green especially. But after a time, they finally saw some light ahead and snuffed their own torches. They got down onto their bellies to crawl the rest of the way, finally getting a decent view down into a bit of a pit, stairs off to one side for normal descents. "Off to the left," whispered Pyp. Jon glanced and saw some people being ushered into the pit, his lovely fat Sam among them. There were all sorts of strange infernal-looking devices scattered around the large pit, Gods along knew what they were all for. Way up above was a hole in the ground, or ceiling rather here thought Jon, open to the cold night sky.
"Looks like some sort of ritual or somethin? What you suppose they mean to do?" Grenn whispered to them. "Dunno, but we better not wait to find out... Sam's likely to die from fright if we don't do something quick." Jon whispered back. He scooted back from the ledge, gesturing the others to do the same, ready to formulate some type of plan. What would my father have done here? Or Uncle Benjen? Surely they would know what to do...
"Corrrrrrrrrrrrrrnnnnn" they all froze, they knew that damn bird. "Snnnnoooooooooowwwwww..." it echoed, and they realized it was coming down from above, flying down into the cavern from outside. They all glanced at each other, holding their breath. Then Ghost decided for them - he leapt off the edge down the steep slope into the pit, landing among the hostages and wights. Then all hell broke loose.