Cave's were once not a big thing to Jon Snow. He would find a cave deep in the woods in front of Winterfell castle, near the water the servants would carry in buckets, his family even had a shrine underground he called a cave when he was a little boy.

" Should we head back now, Lord Snow?" The crow who told Zant about their Copper Pennies bet asked.

" Who cares about a cave?" The crow who won the Copper Pennies said. " Everyone knows caves are just tombs for dead people and dirty rock. I say we leave it and never speak about it ever again. Right, Lord Snow?"

Jon felt something bristle against his hair on his chin. It wasn't the entire cold he felt the first time he entered the Wall and never stopped feeling in between training and sleep, it felt like his father's hand was pulling him to that cave. Jon walked forward.

" Lord Snow, don't go in there!" Zant was the only one trying to bring Jon back. Those three young crows were thinking of themselves, turning around and leaving Jon Snow. They weren't deserting the Night's Watch, but they were leaving a good man behind. To Zant that should be execution at the latest. " Jon Snow…Jon! Jon, get back here!"

When nothing Zant said seemed to call Jon back he ran after Jon. Zant wasn't feeling very brave going into that cave without any crow to help his vision. This reminded Zant how the little boy in him was always scared of pigs. Zant was dropped in a pigs pen owned by his third uncle Zlay and had a fear of pigs trying to eat him. It wasn't until Zant was thirteen that and killed his first pig that he had nothing to fear of pigs; pigs were eaten by humans, even poor humans without swords, shields, or helms.

The first step into the cave…Zant waved his sword as high as his arms could reach. Boys that followed him around, mocking him and feeding ghost stories into his brain, told him in caves bats with fangs made of spiders would bite him if he didn't check the ceiling. Zant's only fear was the cobwebs and silhouette of his own arms.

" Jon." Zant whispered quietly. If Jon was anywhere it would be standing in front of him. " Jon." Zant was worried and growing tired of whispering. His tribe don't keep their voices low like their climaxing. They speak loud and fierce. " JON! JON SNO—"

Zant stepped too far and feel down a dark hole. Zant was calm, counting the amount of time he was falling. Though most men were illiterate and couldn't read in his village or new what numbers were, Zant was taught by many and one was a retired Maester who delivered books to the town in hopes the ones who could read would write a book about their success and lineage.

" Eleven!"

Eleven was the number Zant counted aloud before his face hit his arm and his gut hit solid ground. His gut felt a heavy pain. Pain only felt from something large moving inside him: stones, whetstones, foreign knives, cloaks. The pain was vastly superior to the fall.

" J-Jon Snow…?"

" Over here, Zant."

Jon Snow finally acknowledged Zant's presence.

Zant would be happy if he wasn't so mad at Jon. How could he not listen to him and bring him down here? Lord Snow may be richer than Zant and far more handsome, stockier, swifter with a sword, loved by crows, but he was acting like one of Zant's villagers who tied a yarn string around his balls. Don't get Zant wrong. Zant was happy Jon Snow was alive but he didn't know if it was love for him or a curse Jon put on him.

" That was quite the fall we had," Zant laughed then murmured when Jon didn't answer him. " We should be able to climb the walls and the hole should still be open. If we use our feet and lock arms we could push ourselves up."

" Come over here."

What was so important Lord Snow didn't want to leave, thought Zant as he joined Jon in seeing what all the attention was about. Zant joined Jon's back…something burned his eyes. Zant's eyes were accustomed to look into bright light when breakfast was near so he could not get distracted by its glare. Whatever glare this light had was strong. It not only blinded a man like Zant but it nettled his perception.

Terrifying yellow eyes, mouth with more teeth than any Dire Wolf, big mouth, wings were big and head had wing sticking out, color was uncertain, and tail was sharper than a scythe. The most terrifying creature Zant's ever seen.

It was only a picture. Carvings on the walls. The picture was a dragon. The person who wrote it was either hoping for a dragon or lost his mentality—dragons don't exist in Westeros…their extinct. Zant's father told him just as his father's father told him. The carving of the dragon was unimportant…just the gold.

An entire wall made of gold and the last person died unable to take it. Pieces of the gold were stuck in the wall. A hammer was the only tool that could break this wall. Zant saw pieces of dragon talons, rings shaped like crowns, small statue pieces of dogs and horses, a giant coin piece, and a piece that could replace one of Zant's teeth if he ever lost one.

" Jon Snow…this is gold." Zant said. They made a great discovery and the only thing he could do was repeat what Jon already knew. A dumb question.

" Real gold…" Jon turned away, afraid of what the thought of this gold was doing to him.

" Should we tell the lord commandeers about this place?"

" No. If they know then the rest of the Night's Watch will know and it will make them all fight for their freedom. Freedom in the Night Watch is execution and sword through the heart. We must never speak of this to all the—"

Jon Snow grew quiet. He said nothing but his face all pale and green could tell you he was startled, maybe even a bit scared. Zant was scared too. A voice, like a banshee ushering its death bringing scream, reached inside Zant so deep he was starting to yell for it to stop! A scream like this means death.