As the strange screeches faded into the twilight, Sam's eyes widened in disbelief. He recognized the dire wolf immediately. Ghost bristled at the Other. The Wight seemed unmoved at the wolf's large size and intimidating demeanor. He lifted his dead black hand in the air and gestured to some unknown in the shadows. The hope in Sam's eyes disappeared as he watched about 13 different wights appear from the shadows around the ring. The large wolf made a sound unlike any other that could have been heard from such a beast. It was between a sigh of resignation and a threatening growl. Sam glanced around him. There was no way out for the wolf. He looked up into the trees and thought he saw the shadows moving. As he glanced back down, there was a moment he would never forget. Time would slow for him and he would resign himself to a fate he never could have dreamed. He looked at Ghost as Ghost's red eye met his in desperation and jumped when the arrow pierced through that left eye. Before Ghost hit the ground, Sam could see an accusing look cross through the remaining red eye. It was done. His fate was sealed as Ghosts. Sam numbly looked in the direction of the arrow and saw the culprit crouching at the edge of the pit. His face was torn in such a way that he looked like he had a cruel grin crossing his features. The remnants of his clothes added to the mockery of the moment given they were the clothes of a man dressed in motley attire. The bells on his jester hat tinkled as he jumped down. Ser Piggy sagged back. He felt a coldness shove him forward to an ominous table with restraints and dried blood stains.
Jon wanted to scream and gasp as he watched the scene unfold, but Pyp and Grenn held him quietly. It all happened too fast for him. Ghost was gone. The beast was an extension of him. He was a part of Jon that Jon will never have again. Jon felt a quiet rage growing inside of him. It was a rage that would overtake the sadness of his being when the moment had excused itself from time, becoming only a memory to fuel Jon's revenge.
"C'mon Jon," Pyp whispered, "There is nothing for us to do here. We must go."
It had been going on for what seemed like hours. Probably it was only about 45 minutes now. Sam was feeling pain he never knew existed in parts he never knew belonged to him. The creature assigned to this task called himself Glokta. He shuffled everywhere he went and had a habit of cracking his back which he had informed Sam didn't matter anymore because he could no longer feel the pain that he had once felt. He was different from the other Wights in that he could actually speak. He seemed to go through remnants of emotion, but only of laughter and pleasure at the torture he was bestowing upon Sam. At first Sam had cried and begged as Glokta ripped his flesh in strips and handed it to the Others to feed upon. Eventually he could no longer even make a sound.
"You see Sam, those other cows will only be our feast as soon as we are done with you. You're different from them fatman. I can see the tortured soul inside of you. I can see your pain. That pain will help you help us. We intend to take the world. We intend to bring winter to all for it is coming, boy."
Glokta took a dull knife and ran it along Sam's cheek delicately. He continued on telling Sam the more pain he endured, the better he'd be as a leader. He sliced at Sam's cheek, pulling skin from bone and snacking on all the bits. At each whimper, Glokta would cock his head at Sam and ask if he had something he'd like to share with the class. Sam was going to be his masterpiece he said as he picked up some pliers.
"You know, I have never understood what nipples are for on men. It seems that no matter how many I remove, the gods are not taking the hint. What do you think Sam? Hmmmm? Anything to add to that?" Glokta teased as he pushed the pliers down to Sam's sternum and twisted with all the might of a cripple.
The nipple came off in a torn mess and in more than one try while Glokta laughed maniacally and proceeded to do it to the other one. By now, Tarley was a bloody mess. He was hardly recognizable as the massive man he once was. His eyes were growing more dead by the second and Glokta could see the glassy appearance.
"Oh nononono Ser Piggy. I have one more torture in store for you, ser. I think that you need to smile. You need to show those beautiful teeth of yours. I will never have a smile as beautiful as yours, fatman."
Glokta took a strange instrument which could be likened to pliers and began to carve into Sam's lips. Sam's eyes widened as he strained and strained against the bonds that held him, feeling the pain course through his entire face. He flinched as he watched Glokta pull his top lip off his face and slowly begin to eat it. He teased it with his tongue and nibbled at it until he finally just slid it into his mouth and swallowed. Author's note: That's what he said! How's that for sensual cannibalism! Glokta laughed merrily and proceeded with Sam's bottom lip. The result was the grin of eternity. Sam had slipped into unconsciousness during the entire process, leaving Glokta feeling as if his time with him had been a bit anti-climatic. No matter. He knew that the tortured soul within Sam would find it's way out and devour this sweet summer. He motioned to his hoard and told them to bleed Sam out so he could return to them and bring a winter storm.
"You may eat the other cows when you have finished," Glokta said.
Glokta chuckled to himself as he felt the large white beast push up against his leg. He patted his head as the arrow in the eye socket of the great dire wolf bounced merrily in tune with the destruction of life.