Jon reached the horses with Grenn and Pyp in seconds from fleeing. They had been traveling for almost an hour as Jon sat silently on his garron, his brain trying to process the fact that Ghost was gone. He yanked back on the mouth of the horse and dismounted, glancing around the still cold forest. The quiet of the woods a gross distance from the continuously growing thoughts in his head.
Jon stood on the side of the stocky horse. 'Ghost is gone. He is gone. He's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone.' The tumultuous (what what!) thoughts washed through the dark haired boys like the waves on the iron islands, thundering loudly as they tore down everything in their way, eroded his sense of self preservation and crumbled his logic.
" I can't leave Ghost!"
"Its too late fer the wolf Jon! Its too late for Sam. We need to get back now," Pyp's voice squeaked at an unnaturally soprano tone, his eyes bulging in terror as he stared at his suddenly panicked friend.
'Sam...' Jon's brain slammed to a halt. He grabbed the reins of the garron and flung himself over the saddle and jerked the horse around roughly. The rust colored horse's nostrils flared in terror and confusion as he was kicked back toward the smell of death.
Somewhere in the back of Jon's mind he could hear Grenn and Pyp calling out to him. It did not matter. He drove the horse forward toward the cavern at break neck speed. Jon did not stop as he drove his leg into the beast's flanks and whipped him with the reins severely. The poor creature struggled with the thickness of the snow, his legs growing tired, his lungs straining to comply with his cruel masters wishes. The obsequious garron did not stop, not until he plummeted down the pit in the cavern, his legs and neck breaking as he slammed into the cold rock floor below.
The body of the horse smashed several of the death things into the cave floor as it landed. Jon had dismounted and rolled away from the horse as it began its suicide mission. He jumped up, fueled with a fevered rage he could not control, his lust for revenge dampening his fear of the Wights before him. Brandishing his sword, he struck their heads from their body's. He killed everything in his path. He did not distinguish the mewling craven wildlling captives from the ice-like Others. He would kill everything. He hacked at their limbs and smashed through their spines, the Valyrian steel cutting through the frozen dead and pink blood-filled flesh alike with ease.
Lord Snow stood back and surveyed the damage he had done on the enemy forces. Blood and gore mixed with the blue-black insides of the others in an obscene painting of carnage. There had been eight others with as many wildling captives, he had leveled them all. He turned silently, trying to locate the object of desires. His eye came to rest on the bloody pulsating mess the was Samwell Tarley. The fat man's face a disturbing caricature of what he once was.
Jon walked over to Sam, sheathing his sword and stared at the boy on the table in front of him. Sam had one eye opened and was watching Jon, blood dripping like a line of drool through the gaping wound that was now his mouth.
"Jon hellp mee..." the fat man's voice sounded like the rustling of dry leaves. He did not have much more time in this world. Jon would take advantage of what he had.
"Help you Sam?" whispered Jon close to Sam's ear. The fat boy quivered and attempted to nod, only causing more blood to spill down his body.
Jon pulled out the knife he kept in his belt. You could never have too many knives someone had once told him. He cut the bindings on Sam's head, arms and legs and motioned for Sam to try to get up.
Sam tried to move his body, it would not move. The only thing he could feel was the coldness and the darkness slowly descending on him. He cried out and reached to Jon. Jon came for him. Jon would help him. Jon would save him. It would all be alright again. They could go back to the way it was. Everything would be ok.
A knew pain lanced through Sam's chest as he looked down to see the hilt of Jon's dagger buried in his flesh stabbing into his heart. Confusion poured through him as he grasped at Jon's hands around the dagger and raised his eyes up to Jon's face.
Jon stared down at Sam's trembling body, the fat boys eyes locked on his.
"You were the worst mistake of my life." He slammed the dagger up into the mans chest roughly causing a gurgle of pain to slip from Sam's mouth.
Sam watched as his blood pumped out of his body over Jon's gloved hand. His body had grown cold, his eye-sight was fading. The only thing he could focus on was the intense betrayal he felt at the hands of the man he loved. He only ever wanted to make Jon happy. He would have given Jon anything he wanted. He would have died for him, but not like this. Not like this.
Glokta stood behind the small concealed door and watched as Jon came to free Sam. He was not worried. The Tarly man was far far from beyond saving, so he held his hand up to the wights behind him, urging them to stay quiet, commanding them to stay back.
His mouth twisted into a disgusting grin as the fates aided him in his path to mold Sam's death to mirror the tragic life he had lived. 'Ooo a lovers quarrel, how exciting!' He listened to Jon's harsh words as he jammed the dagger deeper into his lover's chest.
Glokta turned around, his new white shadow pacing beside him as he made his way out of the tunneled hallway, the wights behind him following subserviently. As he emerged from the tunnel, he came out into the cold brisk air of the North. It did not effect him at all. He rubbed his blue mottled hands together as he gazed out over the view before him. Legions of Others were clamored together in the snow-filled valley, awaiting the Rise of their new commander.
Glokta thought back to the dagger that had been neatly inserted into Sam's chest. 'Not long now..not long now at all and we will have our fearless leader...I tremble with anticipation' His grotesque smile creeped up on his horrid features once more.
Jon stared at the dieing body of his once friend with abhorrence and turned and walked away, leaving the man to die alone. 'No less then he deserves.'
Lord Snow continued his journey back to the wall slowly following the deep trenches he left with the garron on the way there. Sometime during the frozen night, a patrol of rangers found him and escorted him back to the wall. He told them of a rescue mission gone wrong. He told them how he went to save Sam but it was too late, the boy was already dead. He told of how he avenged his friend's death by killing the Wights that took his life.
The Nights Watch consoled him on the loss of his good friend Sam. They congratulated him on his revenge. He was what the night watch stood for, a man of unquestionable Loyalty to his brothers. He was a Hero. He was also a liar.