Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or any of its characters. All original characters belong to me.

Ashton POV

Spending hours scaling the rock face to see the view from the top was always my favorite part of rock climbing.

Upon reaching the top, I paused to take a deep breath and take in the beautiful view; it was then that it happened.

A rock came loose, causing me to lose my footing; I slipped and scrambled to grab something, but only caught air.

As I began to fall, I finally grabbed the edge with my left hand but didn't have the leverage to pull myself up. Realizing I was about to fall, I regretted climbing up in the first place.

My final thought as I was falling was that at least I had reached the peak before I fell.

I woke up with the worst migraine I'd ever experienced; it felt as if someone had hit my head with a sledgehammer.

I sat up suddenly bombarded by memories of a short, harsh life.

The memories all seemed to be through the eyes of a small child, always cold and always hungry. I had never experienced such a visceral need for food. It felt as though my stomach was trying to digest itself.

I experienced flashes of pain and a bone-deep chill; it felt as if the cold were burning from within, and it was centered in my feet.

I also remember a harsh, coarse language that I had never heard before. I tried to block out the painful memories so l could focus on my surroundings.

As I opened my eyes, I looked around and noticed I was in a dark cave with very little lighting except for a firepit in the center. As I looked up, I saw a small opening near the top of the cave, through which some of the smoke escaped.

Feeling around myself, I noticed I was sitting on a large pelt, in a dark corner of the cave.

I tried sitting up, but clutched my head in pain as I felt around where it hurt. I felt a coarse cloth being used as bandages.

Bracing myself, I tried to stand again; this time, I ignored the pain and discomfort and stood through the pain.

After I gained my bearings, I slowly began to walk toward the fire, where four figures sat around it. Two of them were young adults, while the other two were a middle-aged woman and an ancient-looking crone who more closely resembled a pile of skin and bones than an actual human.

I noticed that the two young men had broad shoulders, strong arms, and faces that appeared weathered and scarred from frostbite.

The woman had a gont appearance, Lastly was the old crone.

When one of them noticed me and spoke, I was surprised apon hear a unown language I had never heard before. understand what they were saying .

as i tried to respond another wave of pain hit causing me to fall unconscious.

Upon awakening, I tried to stay calm and avoid breaking down, so I took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts from my mind.

After calming down to the best of my ability, I looked around to see if there were any hints that this was all a dream. When everything around me looked normal, I pinched my arm as hard as I could, feeling a sharp pain I knew this could not be a dream.

Trying not to freak out, I attempt to evaluate my situation.

I realize I am still in the strange cave.I feel along my head and notice there are no longer any bandages; so I guess that I have been asleep for a long time.

Looking around, I notice that it is just me and the old crone in the cave. Sitting by the fire, the crone is making clothes, using a bone shard for the needle and some weird-looking twine to stitch together some rough-looking pelts.

Sitting up, I ran my hands over my head, searching for any sore spots. Finding none, I stood up, nearly stumbling in the process due to the weakness I felt in my legs.

I examined my body and realized why I felt so weak; I was malnourished and a sickly pale color.

In my past life, I had a dark tan; however, in this body, I appear unnaturally pale as if I've never seen the light of the sun.

As I continued to inspect my body, I noticed something else. My shoulder-length black hair was oily and tangled, as it hadn't been properly combed or brushed in days.

Looking down, I examined what I was wearing—some sort of thin pelt in place of undergarments.

I then noticed my feet and nearly fainted in shock. The bottom half of my foot looked like it had been turned into stone, appearing as if it were made of some dark, unnatural material.

I stumbled back onto the pelt and reached down to touch it. It felt as cold as ice, but besides that, it felt like a normal foot.

When I touch them, they feel cold, but my feet do not feel cold; they feel quite comfortable.

I felt like I was going to start panicking if things didn't start making sense, so to combat the feeling I try to think rationally.

I tried to come up with some sort of theory; I discarded frostbite since my feet weren't a purplish color, and they didn't feel numb.

They looked and felt like normal feet, except for the fact that they were pitch-black and that cold seemed to radiate off of them.

It wasn't a natural cold. It seemed to seep into whatever they touched as I walked towards the fire. I noticed frost beginning to form on the ground where I stepped. Yet my feet didn't feel cold; in fact, my feet felt perfectly normal, if not a little less sensitive.

Unable to find a satisfactory explanation for my situation, I slowly walked towards the fire where the old crone was sitting, stitching together some pelts with a bone fragment as the needle and some weird-looking twine as the thread, to make some rough-looking clothes.

Sitting down I tried to get comfortable but I was unable to do so since I was sitting on a rough and uneven piece of wood, when I got as comfortable as I was going to get.

I began to think about what was going on, so I tried to arrange the facts and theories together. First, the last thing I remember before waking up here was falling. So I should either be dead or hospitalized, and I am not dead and this is not a dream, so those options are out.

My last theory was that I was reborn into this body when I died or I'm in a coma and this is a very realistic dream. But thinking back on that rush of memories, I'm guessing it's the ladder.

Thinking about what that would mean I tried to think up a game plan but there was a large problem with that, I had know idea where or when I was reborn.

So I tried to rack my brain trying to think of any key details that could help me figure out the things I have seen and observed. I then noticed some key details: my feet were black, The pelts, furs, the numbing cold, and the guttural language.

My thoughts solidified into an idea. In my favorite series, A Song of Ice in Fire, there was a clan of free folk beyond the wall called the hornfoots. They had blackened feet that were immune to the cold.

Meaning that the language I was hearing should be the old tongue with all of these revelations, I decided to go back to my pelts to lay down and regain strength for tomorrow I would need to make plans.

Author note this is my first time writing so mistakes are expected. This is a learning experience. Constructive criticism is welcome.