The first four hundred words a prologue from Sabishii-Kitsune about what this story is about. I'm sorry it's late updating but it was really hard editing what I wrote for this chapter. Please read and review.
XxX
Faster, faster, faster, faster.
The cold wind cuts across her face. Legs moving quickly even with the hindrance of a skirt, coat, thick roots and low branches.
Her breaths are coming in short puff as its becoming harder to breathe with the wind pushing strongly and defiantly against her body and face. Crushing and shrinking her lungs with her legs going numb and skin freezing and prickling.
A branch snags her coat, momentarily choking her with the sudden halt before she panics and moves in frenzy.
She pushes forward and away from the branches, sparing no glance for the clothing. No time for that, they're coming for you.
Run.
His grey eyes is cold and unforgiving.
"Where is it?"
His voice is brimming hot with anger, his hands warm with the intent to strangle her pretty neck if she keeps to be defiant against him.
Silence.
He leans in close; the scent of blood and greed strong in his skin and breath as he breath flames across her skin.
"I'll ask again. Where. Is. It?"
She can see the clearing, a blinding white of hope at the end. Waiting for her.
With a burst, she pushes herself forward and lets herself be engulfed.
Safe.
She squints against the light, lets herself catch all the oxygen she needs, clutches the few coins in her hands tighter-drawing a few more blood.
Safe.
Exhaling a determined and resolute breath; carefully she opens her palms, looking down thoughtfully on the golden coins that is slightly covered with her blood.
The blow came hard and swift.
"You little whore!"
She keeps defiant.
"A whore I may be, ser. But you won't get a word out of m-"
She tugs the pouch of coins out of her gown and then pours a handful into her palm.
Its time.
They were pretty, shiny and cold.
But it was not for humans, it was time to rid of it from the conscience of humans.
She lifts her freezing hand and throws them across and deep into the sea.
Rustle.
She digs her hand into the pouch, grabbing another handful-mindful of her heart beating faster.
Rustle.
One more. One more and all the suffering will be over. Safe.
Rustle.
She throws the whole pouch into the sea, a heavy weight lifting from her heart and shoulders.
A gasp leaves her throat as she turns around, finding an impatient death waiting patiently.
XxX
It was dark and as the cold wind chilled most of the crows to the bone, they were sitting on logs by a campfire and eating gruel. The elder crows had told them these crows were their family. Yet, it didn't feel like family; it didn't feel like a family should, welcoming and warm. This was just cold and unjust people.
" Foul shit," one of the crow's cursed putting his plate on the snow. " I'm tired of being cold and I'm tired of this food. When will the Night's Watch feed us something decent?"
" I wouldn't push my luck on what the Night's Watch feed us," another crow said. " I hear in the hot regions, the regions where raider's and raper's use swords like we've never seen and water is scarce, they feed on the leg's of their own men. The oldest they chop off both feet. The younger but more worthless members they slowly cut off a finger or a toe for food. They're the birds of the land, the vultures."
Zant is sharpening his sword with a whetstone. Morgn and him are staring at each other like two people who want to murder the other. Letting out a slow breath, Zant closes his eyes, sticking into the pockets of his pants that his family gave him. With his eyes closed, he begins to think, seeing a girl appear. She's blurred, but he can tell she's smiling
" The woman loves me; I don't share her love," a crow said talking about a woman or whore back in a brothel. " Little Finger doesn't know but one of his whores is going to have my child. A new whore I might add. If she thinks I'm paying for the bastard she has another thing-"
Morgn stands over the crow and glares at him. When those crows see his face they jump in surprise. " I find your escapade as amusing as killing a rat. Do you know what separates this...you know what from you?" The man shakes his head. Morgn shows him his big knife. " I never see a reason to kill one. You on the other hand can taste Bloodbringer while he carves my cities flag on your lip."
Jon journey through the woods. He hears the sound of howling he thinks may be another one of those ghostly people back in his room. Someone touches him. Jon turns around and sees Zant standing behind him.
" I'm sorry for being a complete imbecile in front of you, Lord Snow, but I need someone who isn't making tales of all the fun they had before entering the Night's Watch."
" It's just Jon. Jon Snow. I'm not a lord and we're not at war, so there's no reason to call me Lord Snow." Jon looks at Zant's sword. There's engraving in it. " How did they let you have that?"
" I paid everyone one thousand Gold Dragons to keep it. Killing crow's isn't how I live. But if crow's want to kill me, I'll see them dead before they get too me!" He takes out his sword and gives it to Jon. " It's okay," Jon says. " I don't need to see your sword." Zant sheaths.
" Why are you here? You live in a palace. Whatever crime you committed your father could probably pay for it."
" You think I'm rich, Jon Snow? You think I'm a prince, Jon Snow? Well I'm not a prince, Jon Snow. I'm poor. Those Gold Dragons didn't belong to me. I stole them from passed out drunk people and I came to the Night's Watch without wrath, crimes, or murder."