Jon

Jon was woken by the sound of Ghost's howling. He shot up, looking around at the camp. The rest of his party was stirring too.

"Ghost, quiet," he said, ordering the wolf who was only a few feet away from him. But Ghost seemed to ignore him, and continued to howl.

He looked around and saw that the fire was dying, despite there being no shortage of firewood. It had been Ebben who was on watch for them that night, but Jon could see no sign of the torturer anywhere as he stood.

"Where's Ebben?" Stonesnake asked. "Did he go off looking for wildlings?"

"He wouldn't have gone without telling us, or alone," Qhorin said.

"Well he's not here," Stonesnake pointed out. "He must have gone somewhere. The fire's low, so he didn't leave to take a piss." Jon could feel the cold coming over them, colder than he had ever felt before. He bent down and tossed a few logs onto the fire.

"What are you doing lad?" asked Qhorin.

It was Dalbridge who answered. "Do you feel it? The cold?"

"What of it?"

"No wildling ever brought a cold like this."

It didn't take long for the Halfhand to realize what the squire was telling him. "The Others…"

"Aye," Dalbridge said. "You said you burned those corpses that came for Mormont at Castle Black, didn't you?"

Jon nodded. He had used oil and a sheet then though, and his hand still had the burns to prove it. Now they would be fighting with makeshift torches, and he had little confidence that they would fare well. But at least they would have some fire.

"Are they going to come for us?" Stonesnake asked.

Qhorin pondered the question for a moment, before he spotted tracks that must have been made by Ebben when he had left the camp. "We won't let them have the chance," he told them. "Once those sticks are ready, we'll track them."

Squire Dalbridge looked at him nervously, and Stonesnake did not look so confident either. The first time Jon had ever seen one of Qhorin's men unsure of a plan of his. It seemed to Jon that only Ghost approved of the plan, as he had finally stopped howling. Neither Dalbridge or Stonesnake raised questions though, and Jon did the same. Instead, they began to prepare.

Jon first put on the light ringmail that he had been given by Donal Noye before he had left Castle Black. It wasn't much, but it would offer at least a little protection. Then he found his sword belt that carried Longclaw and one of the Dragonglass daggers he had gathered at the Fist of the First Men. After that, he put on a second layer of furs to try and combat the frigid temperatures.

The other men did not take long to put on their armor either. Their armor was light, just like Jon's, and thus better suited for travel, though older and more worn from years of use. Both Squire Dalbridge and Stonesnake had put on another layer of furs over top like Jon as well, though the Halfhand didn't.

The fire had done its job well enough too. When they pulled the sticks from the fire, all were still burning, though all their flames were dying at least a little from the cold. Jon was not so sure their fires would be enough to kill any wights. He did what the others were doing, holding their sticks down instead of up, which helped some though.

It took a little longer for them to mount their horses, who were nervous around the fire, but they were eventually able to calm them. As they began to set off, Jon felt nervous. "Lead the way, Ghost," he said to his direwolf, pointing at Ebben's tracks in the snow. "Take us to him."

Ghost put his head down, and started to lead them, and Jon rode up first behind him, with the others coming after.

Their torches helped to light the way some, though it seemed Ebben had taken a path that was not too difficult. Only twice did Jon need to lower his head to avoid a branch, and the horses seemed to have no problems.

Within a few minutes they came to a clearing where the tracks started to change. Ebben had not been the only one, anymore. He had either joined with another group or had started to follow their tracks. Or been followed himself, a voice inside of Jon whispered.

"Do you see the other tracks?" Stonesnake asked. "Ebben wasn't alone out here."

"I see them," the Halfhand replied, as Jon looked back to see him paying a glance at the ground. "We'll keep going."

And so they did. Ghost continued to lead them back through the woods, though now Jon found himself wishing he would have a third arm that he would be able to keep on the hilt of his sword.

It felt like they rode through the heavy brush for another hour at least. Their torches had all died down to embers that failed to give off any light, and now each step brought the increasing fear that their horses might stumble and break a leg. But they pressed on anyway.

Just when they were about to reach another clearing, Ghost stopped, and started to bark. His view was blocked by the mass of brush and leaves, but it seemed that Dalbridge was able to see from behind him.

"Ebben?" the one time squire to King Jaehaerys II called.

The figure moved, and now Jon could see it. He was not able to recognize Ebben, or see much of it, but he did recognize its blue eyes. They weren't like normal eyes.

"He's a wight," Jon said, letting go of his reins and drawing his sword.

Before the Halfhand had a chance to order them to fall back, the wight started to attack them, rushing at them.

Jon leapt down from his horse, holding Longclaw in his right hand, and his torch in the left, readying to fight.

Before the corpse was able to reach them, Ghost jumped onto him, taking the blue-eyed wight down. Jon could heard the sounds of the direwolf savaging the corpse as he and the others began to rush forward.

As Ghost was tearing at the wight's chest and gut with his claws and mouth, Jon noticed the wight was raising his arms, looking like he would try to strangle him, and so he struck first at the elbow, cleanly severing it with a single-blow.

It was Stonesnake who took off Ebben's head, which didn't stop the rest of the body, as Jon could feel the severed hand grabbing around his ankle. Both Qhorin and Dalbridge were trying to light it on fire, but it seemed their torches were too dim to ignite anything. Jon could see it was going to be fruitless, and started to hack away at the corpse.

"Help me destroy it!" he yelled at the rest. "We can't burn it."

They did as he ordered, helping him and Ghost as they tried to tear the corpse into pieces. Jon took the hand off of his leg and broke each one of the fingers that was still moving, before he took Longclaw and cut them all off.

Just as Jon was about to turn his attention to the head which was making strange, inhuman noises, he heard Dalbridge cry out in pain.

As Jon looked at the man, he saw a red blade jutting from his chest. He could see smoke coming from the wound, and the cold white figure behind him, that seemed to emit a glow in the darkness.

An Other.

The blade was pulled out of Dalbridge's chest, and the man collapsed.

Qhorin turned, swinging his blade hard and fast, but the Other was able to quickly block it. The force of the blow and the small bits of ice Jon could see forming on the blade proved too much, as the Other counted with an attack of its own, and the Halfhand raised it's blade to counter, only for the blade to break in half, the Other's sword continuing straight into the man's head, nearly splitting him in two.

Stonesnake whirled around, as Jon felt a sudden pain in his shoulder.

When he looked, he saw there was a white figure there too, having hit him on the shoulder with the blade. The Other made another strike at him, but Jon was able to raise his blade to meet it. The collision made a loud ringing noise, and nearly sent Jon sprawling backwards, but somehow he managed to stand his ground. The Other started to attack, making one strike after another. Jon managed to block every one of them, making the same horrible ringing noise each time. He was tired, and his shoulder throbbed with each blow he tried to land. In desperation, Jon felt his hand move to his belt, where the dragonglass dagger was.

Jon didn't know what instinct had taken over him, but he found himself grasp the dagger, as he tried to block each blow the Other tried to make, and suddenly, he threw it at the Other.

The blade struck the strange creature squarely in what Jon perceived to be a chest, and Jon watched, half in awe and half in horror as a loud crack echoed loudly, followed by an even louder scream. A wail almost, a final cry in pain by this dying creature, as it exploded into thousands of small shards of ice.

He managed to cover his eyes just in time, though he could feel the small shards cut him on his face where they struck, and when he finally looked, he saw they had cut his shirt too.

Jon knew he did not have time to celebrate his victory though. As he looked behind him, he could only hear Ghost's growls, at the Other who had killed the Halfhand and Dalbridge.

Stonesnake had been killed too, and for the first time, Jon saw Ghost sounding almost afraid, as the wolf was slowly backing away from the Other, losing ground.

Seeing the monster there, standing over the broken bodies of the men he had been traveling with filled Jon with a fit of rage. He did not know where the strength came from, but he managed to charge at the Other, making one vicious attack after another, forcing him to counter and parry.

The strength left him as quickly as it came though. Jon found himself losing ground with this one just as he had with the first, and he didn't know where the Dragonglass dagger he had thrown went. He figured perhaps it had shattered with the Other.

He tried in vain to find an opening, though he couldn't. At least Longclaw did not seem like it was possibly going to break as the Halfhand's sword had, or shatter as he saw must have happened to Stonesnake's sword.

His strength finally failed him, as the Other brought down his sword over Jon's left shoulder. He managed to block the blade away, but he dropped Longclaw in the process, and felt the sword fall into the snow next to him.

Jon fell to his knees, preparing himself, as the Other raised his head. He couldn't see Ghost at all, and when he looked, he saw that the horses had all fled. It wouldn't be long before the corpses animated either, he figured.

In the sky, the stars seemed to move, and suddenly Jon was no longer in that forest. He was in a castle. Jon did not know what this castle was, but it seemed strangely familiar to him.

A woman stood in front of him. She was beautiful, with dark black hair and haunting purple eyes. Only the lines around her eyes seemed to indicate anything about her age, showing she was nearing forty.

"M-mother?" That was who he assumed she was, and he wondered if this meant he was dead.

"Jon," she said, a tear glistening from her eye. She raised her hand to touch his face. "I… I'm sorry… I'm sorry it has to be like this."

"What…"

"You and your sister deserved better from me," the woman said softly. Her voice was filled with grief and sorrow, but never wavered. "I shouldn't have given you up… But this is the price I have to pay."

"Where are we?" When Jon looked around, he thought this room was familiar. He might have dreamt of it once or twice. "How are we here."

"We're not really here," she told him. "You're beyond the Wall, and I'm far far away. This was the only way I could come to you."

"Who are you?" Jon already knew the answer.

"My mother named me Ashara," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "She named your sister too, but she didn't name you. It was your uncle that named you."

"My… My uncle?" She couldn't have been talking about Uncle Benjen. Jon had always been told it was for Jon Arryn he had been named for. "What do you mean?"

"Your uncle," she said with a nod, lifting her head to meet him. "Lord Eddard."

"My father-"

"Brandon was your father…"

"Why did fa-" Jon stopped to correct himself. "Why did Lord Eddard-"

"-Lie?" She finished. "To protect us… To protect our family. It was the only way." She opened her arms with a sad look on her face. "I'm sorry child… I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. A-and… And now…" Her voice finally broke.

"I'm going to die." Jon was not scared by death.

She nodded, wiping away more tears from his eyes. "The gods are taking you away… To punish me for giving you up." His mother stepped forward, and wrapped her arms around him. "I… I've been watching you… You and Allyria… All this time." She let go of him. "I… I love you Jon," she whispered. "Always remember that."

All at once, the vision faded. The stars stopped moving, and Jon was still in the Haunted Forest.

But the Other was no longer in front of him, and he was not alone either. He heard the awful sound of the Other's sword clashing with someone else. Not so far off, in the clearing, Jon saw a strange figure that had not been there before, dueling with the glowing white creature.

The two danced back and forth, the man managing to strike at the monster.

The stranger was holding their own the Other, but Jon knew sooner or later, he would need help. He found Longclaw on the ground, and picked it up, struggling back to his feet, and started over to the clearing.

There was a cut on his leg that he hadn't noticed before, and he limped more than he walked. But he didn't take long to reach the clearing, where he spotted Ghost too, trying to aid the stranger, though the Other seemed to regard him as little more than a nuisance.

Jon stayed quiet, careful not to announce his presence, and stumbled forward. The stranger seemed to take notice of him, and made sure to keep the Other's back to him. Each step sent a new wave of pain into his leg, but when he was less than five paces away, Jon raised Longclaw and charged again.

The Other turned, and was able to block Jon's swing, but that only left it vulnerable to the stranger's attack. Their sword was suddenly jutting out from the Other, which let out an awful cry just like when Jon had thrown the dagger into it, but it did not shatter. As the stranger pulled out their sword, Jon brought down Longclaw, slicing the icy creature's arm off at the shoulder.

The Other fell to the ground, the snow undisturbed under the fiend's corpse.

The mysterious figure who had saved him stepped forward. It was a dark and moonless night, but he could dimly make out his figure.

Not his figure, Jon suddenly realized. Her figure.

It was a woman, only a little more than two inches shorter than him. Her green eyes seemed to shine in the moonlight, which illuminated her fair skin. She was slender and shapely, with long legs and her sword was hanging from her belt.

"T-thank you," Jon said nervously, not knowing what else to say. She was not dressed like a wildling or a northerner. In fact, he struggled to recall if he had seen anyone ever wearing something like what she was wearing, though it didn't quite appear to be warm enough. With how easily she had been able to fight off the Others, he did not think he would be able to fight her off.

The woman crouched down to study the corpse of the fallen creature, touching it carefully. "I've never seen anything like this before," she said. "Have you?"

"I've heard stories, and I've fought creatures like them." Jon said. He didn't know how else to describe the wights they had faced at Castle Black to her.

"But you never faced one of these until tonight," she said. "What do you call them on this world?"

"O-Others," Jon answered. On this world? "We call them the Others."

She nodded. "And what are you called?"

"Jon Snow," he told her, trying to sound confident. He was not sure if the woman was making him nervous, or his vision.

"Where are you from?"

"Winterfell," he said with some uncertainty. He didn't even know who he really was anymore.

"Winterfell…" she mused, sounding as though she did not know what it was.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Ciri. I'm Ciri of Cintra."

Author Notes:

Hehehehehehehe