Author's Note
I do not own Game of Thrones.
Jafer was awoken by Benjen's Stark's yell. He rolled, grabbed his sword, and stumbled from his tent. Othor, who was on watch, was already trying to open Stark's tent, but Jafer could see no Wildlings nor beasts in the dark.
"The fuck's he screaming for? He's gonna bring all the savages in the area down on us," Jafer hissed.
"My apologies," mumbled Stark, staggering from his tent as though figuring out his feet. "I… caught myself on my sword?" He said it like a question rather than a statement, as though unsure.
Jafer laughed. "What, and then you decided to scream like a little girl?" He shook his head. "Our First Ranger going mad in this cold?"
"First Ranger..?" Stark muttered, then shook his head. "It was a moment of weakness. Forgive me my interruption."
He was feeling especially highborn tonight. Jafer grinned. "Ach, forget it. Get your beauty sleep. We'll all need it for riding out in the morning."
"Where are we going?"
"Gods, did you hit your head as well? We're scouting what Wildlings are in this area. Royce said they've moved from their last camp."
"Of course. My thanks."
Othor shook his head as Stark retreated to the tent. "Reckon he's caught fever?"
"Nahh. This snow does shit to men."
In the morning, they found Stark looking at their food rations with disapproval.
"Is this all we have remaining?"
"Aye, and be thankful to the gods we've got this!"
"It won't last us longer than a few days."
"Plenty'o game out here, you know that well enough." Jafer frowned. "Say, you feeling well, Stark?"
"Perfectly," he muttered, rubbing at his neck.
"Only you were acting plenty queer last night too. You feeling the cold?"
"Aye, per'aps. Be better once I warm up." Stark turned to began disassembling his tent.
When he thought Jafer wasn't looking, he stopped, drew his dagger, looked at himself in the reflection, and then sheathed it again.
True enough, the camp where the Wildlings had last been was empty, leaving behind only trampled ground and the remains of a few wooden shelters.
Stark took a look around, though he was oddly quiet, demurring from their conversation while he checked the area.
"Doesn't look like they've left anything to signal where they went," he said.
"Aye, well. That's our job to figure out, ain't it?"
They scouted the area and those further north, searching the woodland, but it did appear all the Wildlings had cleared from the vicinity.
"Do we have any word on where they might have all gone?" Stark asked.
"Ach, they've probably all cleared off to join Rayder, ain't they?"
"Rayder?"
Jafer knocked his arm. "You really did hit your head! The feckin' King Beyond the Wall 'e's callin' 'imself!"
"Oh. Of course."
He spoke to Othor later, and they both came to the same conclusion. They'd have to return to the Wall early, to make sure the First Ranger had not incurred some head injury or memory lapse due to the cold out here.
The old Maester ought to know what was happening.
