I spent a while asking around First Fork, getting to know the people, what they needed, and what they wanted. Grenwin wasn't present, nor were Jorni or Lorni, though I learned the names of the others living here and some things about them.

Their desires tended to boil down to the same three things, anything that made the cold less of a problem, things to defend themselves, and things to help with hunting. Some had asked for more specific things, like climbing gear, apparently wanting to climb the Wall and start fresh on the other side.

There was a seed of an idea in that, I felt. It would be nice to put the Wall between us and the Others.

Most shared the ambition of making something new in the South. They viewed the lands below the Wall as warm and green, somewhere to settle and make a better life for themselves. Some wanted to raid the kneelers, but most seemed to just want to live where food was plentiful and where they wouldn't freeze to death in the summers.

In the meantime, I could certainly provide shelter, tools, and weapons. Woodworking was proving useful once again as I used it to build a mental blueprint for a large gathering hall and communal residence. It had to be large enough to hold everyone in the village, as well as any visitors that might be present, and defensible enough to withstand any force short of the Others returning.

The stories of their weapons being cold enough to shatter steel and sharp enough to cut straight through a man made me think they'd probably be able to get through anything I could build. Even if it was an exaggeration, I'd prefer to overestimate their capabilities than underestimate them. If they came again, we could fall back on the pocket reality like we had last time, and I could hide in the river.

It was probably a good idea to attach a storage area to the building as well. I had no solutions for warming the ground enough to dig out a basement or anything underground, and even digging the holes for the supports would be stretching my capabilities. It would require starting fires over the spots, boiling and dumping water onto the earth several times over hours, and even then, I'd need to spend a while with a pickaxe breaking up the dirt.

I hoped that I'd be able to do that with saidar if I managed to teach myself how to control it while avoiding dying slowly and in agonizing pain. Unfortunately, that would likely take months. Conventional methods would have to work until I progressed to that point; I didn't have any other choice.

Setting aside the new hall concept, I mentally shelved it for the moment. It was a decent foundation and one I'd continue to develop, but I'd be better served putting together what everyone wanted first.

I ruminated on that as I ventured to the edge of the forest. At first, I tried making a wooden hatchet to cut down the limbs of some of the useful trees, then I remembered that my sword would likely work better. The length of it let me reach higher, necessary for some of the trees, and the blade cut through soft and hard woods alike without resistance. Momentarily, I wondered if whoever had forged it had imagined anyone putting it to use like this. It was a silly thought, and it set the tone as I went about collecting materials.

As I bundled and began dragging wood back to the village and into the portal, Herrick and a few others spotted me. He and Wyck came over, offering to help, and I gladly accepted their assistance. I could cut samples free while the men brought them back and deposited them just beyond the portal, stacking everything reasonably nicely. In return, I promised them the first pick of the tools I'd soon be making, as well as fulfilling any requests they had.

Once I felt we'd collected a decent starting stock, I had them help me put it all in the recycler. They'd clearly never seen anything like that small room, staring about at the pipes and the hatches and the terminal. I explained what it was and what it could do, and while it seemed to pass over Wyck's head at first, Herrick clearly understood the implications. He asked a torrent of questions, many of which I couldn't reasonably answer without spending hours explaining, and he eagerly absorbed the answers I could give. He vanished for a little while, returning with a hide-wrapped slab of meat. Elk, he said it was, and he put it in the recycler. I showed him how to order the machinery to make it anew, and he whooped happily as he withdrew the meat.

"We won't be going hungry anytime soon," he crowed to Wyck, shoving the meat in his face, "Not when we can make more food whenever we need!"

We ended up using the main room as a workshop, the men sticking around to fetch materials from the fabricator for me. I was grateful for the help; I didn't need it at this point, but I accepted it anyway.

The tools Herrick had given me were limited, but they soon proved sufficient to start producing better as I set to work. We spent a long while producing axes and hatchets, carving tools, chisels, calipers, saws, planes, spokeshaves, and every other hand tool Woodworking was telling me I might need for any potential project to come. The list was expansive, and the more I had available, the more I seemed to need. Once I had a full collection, I worked on putting together storage for it all, planks of elm dovetailed together to form sheets and dowels pounded into hand-drilled holes. Before long, I'd built myself a proper worktable that occupied the entirety of one wall. It had a tall back studded with pins to hang the many tools on, and I'd built a few stools, one for me and a couple for Wyck and Herrick to rest on between bursts of activity.

At one point, Herrick had tried to put one of the new tools in the recycler, encountering the same error I'd run into earlier. I'd expected as much, though I told him I appreciated him trying anyway.

After, I turned my focus back toward everything the village had asked for. I built a crate the length of the arrows and with a width and depth enough to hold dozens, then began filling it with arrows after studying one Wyck lent me. They'd still need fletching, as I was entirely focused on producing the arrowheads and bare shafts. Soon, the crate was full, and I moved onto spare spearheads and shafts; I only produced two dozen of each. Next came a series of cudgels and quarterstaves. Then, I worked on a wide assortment of knives of varying lengths and styles, from large cleavers to small thumb-length blades meant for fine work. After came various furnishings, more stools, chairs, bedframes, storage trunks, and everything else that had been requested. Mattresses came next, boughs taken from a balsam fir stacked and tied together with lengths of hardwood to provide a soft and springy bed. Wyck and Herrick worked to move the furnishings out of the pocket reality as I started working on smaller single-person sleds.

I only made four of those, figuring that someone would say if more were needed.

Building more crates, I filled them with the rest of the tools I'd been asked for. Axes, knives, hammers, saws, everything else that I'd been asked for and of every other kind I could conceive. The reinforcement I applied to the wood more than made up for any material quality issues, thankfully.

The reinforcement effect seemed to stack with the masterwork quality, producing results far greater than I was expecting. I enjoyed adding all the little artistic flairs to everything, taking only a fraction of the time that work should have required. These tools would barely wear with use and would take a concerted effort to damage. They could use them for years before needing to replace them, very much a quality that seemed useful out here in the middle of nowhere.

I created a few instruments next, only a couple of flutes and a few sets of pipes, as well as a lute that Herrick had asked after. After I'd finished it, he'd taken it and held it close, thanking me profusely.

I would never have been able to do this without Masterwork. Without that single light and the ability it granted, everything here would be trash, a waste of good wood and our time. With it, every single item was a work of art. Practical, well-built, and each perfectly balanced. On every tool and weapon, I engraved my maker's mark, two small wings on either side of a slim tower set in a circle.

I'd gathered a bit of a crowd while I worked, I saw as I turned toward the portal. They stood around outside, trying to get a good look without getting in Wyck or Herrick's way. I noted Ygdis in the front, peering at me with sapphire eyes. Teagj was there as well, standing close to a slightly shorter man who'd introduced himself as Dagmoor earlier. Sigrid leaned over from behind them. They seemed as eager as they were wary, and they kept a respectful distance from the entrance.

Rising from the stool, I stretched my legs and back. Gesturing towards the crates of tools and weapons, I spoke loudly enough to be heard by those in the back of the small crowd.

"I've made these for you and everyone here. Take what you need before what you want, and if we run out of something you want, let me know and I'll make it."

Ygdis nodded to me and wasted no time in walking up and beginning to look through the crates. Sigrid joined her after a moment, followed by the rest. The mood in the little room turned lively as people looked through everything I'd made, picking out what they wanted. It felt festive, even. They crowded around me, barraging me with questions I barely had answers for, giving me thanks, and handing me small odds and ends. Soon, my belt pouches were filling with small nuggets of copper and tin, intricately carved knucklebones of deer and elk, and the boy Wint gave me a small stick twisted up into a ring without a word.

I was glad to see that they didn't fight over anything. There was some disbelief over the efficacy of wooden tools, but I was happy enough to demonstrate how well my axes split wood and kept their edges. Somehow, likely part of the enhancement effect, they had gained mass at the head, making them as easy to use as a good steel axe. Over the next hour, everyone in the village had a chance to go through the collection. Most seemed genuinely grateful, while a few others appeared to expect some sort of trick or jape at their expense, and only time would convince them otherwise. Teagj and Dagmoor were among that number, but I couldn't blame them for their skepticism.

Before long, I was feeling overwhelmed and begged them off, leaving the crowded chamber and making my way around the edge of the village. I still, evidently, needed time to myself. Settling myself on a boulder just up the river trail, I spent some time resting and working on reaching out to saidar. I repeated the flower bud mental exercise over and over. It was touch and go, sometimes I'd feel something at the edge of my awareness, though most of the time there was simply nothing there. I had high hopes that once I could touch the One Power with consistency, I'd be able to start working on holding it. If I could do that, I hoped that meant I'd advanced enough to avoid dying.

I very, very much did not want to die, I found.

While I may have been an extreme outlier compared to the source material as far as my total potential strength in the Power and affinity for the five lesser powers went, I was still limited by the slow and steady natural growth rates that women had. Even if I'd been able to hold the Power, my strength this early in the process would be very low. It would increase the more I channeled, like a muscle being used, but it would likely be years before I reached my potential.

There were a few methods to speed that process up, though only one was any real option for me, and it was the most dangerous. The One Power was addictive; the more one holds, the more they'd want to hold greater and greater amounts. This made the prospect of forcing my growth, of holding as much as I could as long as I could, a high-risk, high-reward proposition. If I screwed up with that and drew too much of the Power through myself, I'd burn the ability right out of me, or even die outright.

The alternative methods all required the use of specific objects that used the Power, none of which I had on hand.

Truthfully, I couldn't think of any reasons for needing city-destroying levels of power sooner than later. I could just wait for things to take the natural course.

I returned to First Fork some time later. The central fire was high and roaring, and it seemed most everyone had gathered around it. Dinner was more stew, with unidentifiable chunks of meat among wild root vegetables and tubers. When I asked, Wyck told me it was rabbit. I'd never had rabbit before and it was warm and filling, and I had no objections to the flavor. They were already putting the salt to good use by the richness of the stew's flavor.

Afterward, there was time for singing and telling stories. Wyck had been showing off the pipes I gave him, and he played them very well. He was well-practiced and soon a few folks had begun to dance around the fire. Ygdis was one of those, coppery hair sent flying as she gracefully spun and it gleamed in the firelight.

The stories generally had free folk outwitting or outsmarting the Night's Watch or kneelers below the wall. They loved tales of cleverness overpowering strength in particular; the tale of Bael the Bard, a great King-Beyond-The-Wall, brought cheers and jeers in equal measure as Teagj and Dagmoor told them together. In some stories, he stole down below the wall to the castle Winterfell, where he entertained the lord who had wronged him and left with the lord's daughter. In others, he was a great raider, leading parties beyond the wall to pillage and loot.

It was a fascinating insight into their culture. Raiding, it seemed, was one of the few methods that the free folk had available to get materials they couldn't in the lands beyond the wall. Iron and steel, some foodstuffs, and occasionally women. That last was something I didn't greatly appreciate, but I was confident that an increase in living conditions would allow me to encourage alternatives.

The whole concept of a King-Beyond-the-Wall was closer to a war chief that led many people than the organized royalty of the south, it turned out. Anybody could say they were King or Queen, but they would have to prove themselves worthy of the title. It wasn't done lightly, Sigrid informed me when I asked her, but there weren't any restrictions on who could or couldn't declare themselves to be one.

"You could, you know," Sigrid said into my ear as we sat together by the fire, "You could prove yourself worth following if you wanted. I can see it in the way you walk."

I wasn't sure what to say to that, so I only gave her a pat on the shoulder and told her I'd think about it.

That was the situation with that Mance person I'd heard about. He had declared himself King-Beyond-the-Wall and was gathering the free folk, ostensibly to break through the Wal and resettle in the lands beyond. He still faced plenty of opposition, and others had declared themselves King or Queen in response. So far, nobody had killed the man, but it seemed only a matter of time before someone managed it.

The more I thought about it, the more I was considering declaring myself a leader of that sort. I had the skills and knowledge to make it work, and I genuinely wanted to help these people. They were impoverished, and their lack of resources had developed a culture revolving around pragmatism. Violent, yes, but that was partially due to large-scale cooperation was impossible when the Watch would come and kill everyone trying.

Herrick told a tale of the one city there had ever been in the lands beyond the wall, a place called Hardhome. Six hundred years ago it had been destroyed under dubious circumstances, and while some still lived there, it was reportedly cursed.

Symon, after effusively thanking me for the crutch and showing it off for everyone to see, was certain the Wall was built several thousand years ago, trapping the people who would become the free folk up here. In all that time, I sincerely doubted that Hardhome had been the only large-scale settlement in all that time. There had to have been others, destroyed and long forgotten.

It was the conditions of their survival that kept them from developing into a more settled community, I was sure. Agriculture this far north was almost impossible, so they subsisted on hunting and gathering. That needed more energy than waiting for plants to grow, and in this kind of environment, every calorie was precious.

Fortunately, I had the aeroponics bay that would begin supplying a serious amount of food in a few weeks, at the least. Even without it, all I needed was time to build up. I could provide a quality of living far in advance of anything globalized capitalism had ever achieved, while still maintaining a balance with the environment.

That seemed to be what the free folk truly desired. A home where they could live without fear of starvation, freezing to death, or assaults from other free folk and the Watch.

I needed to talk to someone about this. I begged off the festivities around the fire. Wandering through the village, I found Grenwin on the other side of the pale tree, spreading some sort of viscous liquid on a fresh pelt with her copper knife. I liked her, and she'd be straight with me on whether what I was thinking was a good idea. I made my way over to her, curious as to where she'd been all day.

"Hey, Grenwin?"

She turned her head to look at me without stopping her work, "What?"

"Can I talk to you about something I've been thinking about?"

"Aye."

I sat on the ground nearby and took some time to gather my jumbled thoughts before speaking.

"I can do a lot for the free folk. Make tools and weapons, build shelters, and much more besides. Teach everything I know, if they want."

"Uh-huh," she grunted without looking at me. Why was she being so cold?

Had I done something to upset her?

"I could get everyone below the Wall and help get everyone settled. Without lords or kings being involved, I mean."

Her head snapped up and her green eyes bored into mine. After a moment, she nodded, satisfied with whatever she saw.

"You aren't lying, are you." She sighed longingly, posture relaxing. "That's a distant dream, and no one's ever made it happen. Are you sure you can?"

"I'm sure," I nodded seriously. "But…" I grimaced, "I think I'd have to declare myself as one of those Queens-Beyond-the-Wall to get everyone together for it. I can't think of any other way to get people to listen to what I have to say, or to seriously consider what I have to offer them."

Grenwin's eyebrows rose and her mouth dropped open in surprise, her teeth white as the snow around us. A smile pulled her cheeks up towards her sparkling eyes. An incredulous peal burst from her and she heaved a wheezing guffaw. Her hands gripped her thighs as she pulled herself upright to bellow thunderous belly-laughs.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea. A flare of embarrassment burned in my chest, alongside an odd feeling I wasn't sure how to quantify. She might have been laughing at me, but it was nice to listen to. I felt my own lips curling up in a grin, my cheeks heating.

After a moment of laughter more, she pressed a hand to her forehead, looking up at the canopy of bloody hands above us.

"You could try! Gods, that's funny. You! You're small! Ha, this is a fine jape! I'll try it on Ygdis later, see how she likes it."

I felt vaguely insulted, though it couldn't dampen my bright mood. "I'm serious, Grenwin. It'd be the only way to prevent the southern lords from immediately coming down on us with an army. We could move this group now, probably, but how many get caught and crushed below the wall?"

She was quiet, thinking it through. Slowly, she sobered as she lowered her head to look me over.

"Most, I think." She gestured at me with her knife, "How can you lead if you don't even know how to fight? No, if you want to prove yourself, prove yourself against Taegj. Not with empty promises. Strength is respected among us."

Frowning, I opened my mouth to object that I'd made no false promises to anyone here. I took another second to consider, closing my mouth again as I thought. I doubted I could win a straight fight with the man, nor did I have any desire to harm him. He'd been supportive of me, in his way.

"What, like a fight to the death? He's not done anything to me that I'd want to kill the man. Surely, there are other ways of showing I mean what I say?"

Grenwin shook her head, "It's not about killing, it's about showing that you'll fight for what you want. If you fight for that, you show that you can fight for us. All o' us. Not just the Antler-men, or the Nightrunners, or the Hornfoots. All the free folk. Showing you have strength worth following, see?" Green eyes squinted at me, "You meant everyone, yes?"

"I… I did mean everyone," I said after a moment. I hadn't even been aware that there were more distinct groups out there. I saw now that I'd only assumed that these few were representative of everyone north of the Wall.

I could also see how picking a fight made sense, looking at things from her perspective. The free folk would only willingly follow leaders who could make good on their promises, and it was entirely voluntary on their part. They might not like Taegj, but he was strong enough to lead them, and that was all that mattered. I didn't relish the idea of fighting the man over a power struggle. It felt wrong, but that was through the lens of my cultural expectations. I wasn't thinking of recruiting more people like me, I was thinking of recruiting the free folk, and I would need to play by their rules.

Nodding to her, I added, "I think I understand. Will you still teach me how to fight? I've got the will, but not the skill."

She looked me over again before meeting my eyes. A frown pulled at her lips and her brows furrowed.

"I don't much like the idea of teaching you just to watch you kill yourself." She watched me for a moment before breathing out a sigh, "I see you're bound to try with or without my help. Fine, I'll teach you."

I beamed a grin at her. "Thank you! I'll do whatever you say!"

Her expression softened, cheeks still red with amusement. "Well, how about you help me finish tanning these hides? There's not much light left in the day, but if we're quick there'll still be enough to start your training."

I nodded, helping her as she needed. The paste was a mixture of brains, acorn water, egg yolks, and fat, and it needed to be spread across the whole pelt to be effective.

It was tedious work, but that just made it all the more relaxing. It was nice to do something the slow way, setting up a process that would take a while to pay off instead of wildly rushing into a task. After we finished, she pulled me over some distance away from the village. The sun was setting, casting the snowy hollow in a dusky light.

Grenwin walked around me as she gave me a look over. Whatever she saw, it didn't give her much confidence. Striding closer, she pressed a hand to my shoulder and shoved lightly. She blinked and shoved harder and I stumbled backward a pace.

"Strangely strong for how small you are. Hm, you'd be best keeping your distance when fighting. That blade o' yours has plenty of length to it, but I cannot teach you how to wield it. You know how to use a spear?"

"Strong? Thanks. I don't know how to wield this thing either." I gave the hilt a pat with my hand and shook my head, "No, I've never used a spear. I know you poke with them, but that's about it."

"Poking is one thing, yes," Grenwin deadpanned. "You may also slash with the blade or use the haft as a staff. A good spear will see you through the worst. You'd want a belt knife as well, if someone gets past the spear you're not likely to have the time to draw that sword."

A chuckle fell past my lips. "I had a knife earlier, but I gave it to Ygdis. Okay, how long should the spear and knife be? I can make them tomorrow."

She stepped forward, taking my arms and holding them out to the sides. Then, she took my hands, curling my fingers into fists, and put them out ahead of me, about two-thirds of a meter apart.

Eventually, she nodded, "The spear, when you stand it next to you straight, the point should be about here." She held a hand a full meter over my head.

"The knife should have a blade about this long." She demonstrated with her hands, "You want it to be straight and have some heft to it." Taking one of my hands, she rolled it into a fist as though holding the knife. "You want the handle to be about twice as long as your hand here, and if you can, one of those fancy hand guards between the grip and the blade, as the kneelers have."

I nodded as I put together the designs in my head.

"I can do that. Does the spearhead need to be a certain size or have anything special on it?"

She considered, tapping her chin. "Blade 'bout as long as your forearm and winged," she traced an elongated ellipse with a point in the air. "And you'll want it sharp the whole length. You can slash with it as easily as you stab."

"Alright, I think I can do that." Mentally updating the plans, I beamed a smile at her, "Thank you, Grenwin. I appreciate your help."

She shook her head, "Don't thank me yet." She grinned, "I'm gonna beat you blue till you learn how to fight like a proper Ice Wife."

Looking up at her, she towered over me and seemed nearly a wall of muscle. For a moment, I was genuinely intimidated by the look in her eye. I could tell she meant it. I refused to quail before her, though, setting my jaw and meeting her eyes.

"I'll just have to learn fast then," I said, putting as much confidence in my tone as I could.

Her grin turned sinister, "That's what they all say." Then, she laughed warmly, clapping me on the shoulder. "I'm japing, don't you worry. I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty face of yours."

I felt my cheeks heating. How long had it been since anyone had said something like that to me? Long enough that it was honestly nice to hear. Sure, Teagj had offhandedly called me pretty, but it felt different coming from her. Genuine, even.

Her smile widened at my reaction and she tousled my hair, eyes glittering with amusement.

I was compelled to look away from her. I wasn't sure why, but at that moment, it was all I could do.

"What else can you teach me till I have those weapons made?"

Grenwin tapped the side of my head, "Many think that all fighting is throwing themselves at someone and overpowering them. Sometimes, they manage to survive from raw strength or speed. You, though, you need to be smart about it." She stepped back, "You're not unarmed, even without weapons. Hands, feet, arms, legs, you can use them all. How would you take me down without that sword o' yours?"

I looked her over, trying to remember the mishmash of information I'd picked up about the human body and faint self-defense lessons.

Pointing at her throat, "I'd try and hit you hard under the chin or in the nose. If I had a rock handy, I'd use that." Motioning lower, "Or kick you in the groin?"

She smiled, cheeks pulling up as she nodded. "A good start. You know how to get out o' a hold?"

I shook my head, "I don't think so?"

She stepped forward, "A common method some use is to take their arms and trap your neck, like this." She demonstrated, stepping around to my side and putting me in a headlock under one arm. She was strong, strong enough that I genuinely doubted I could get free. "How do you get out of this?"

For a moment, I was somewhere else, being held by someone whose grip felt like iron around my arms. I looked down and saw red-lacquered fingernails on the ends of long fingers digging furrows into my flesh. Forcing the memory away, I grunted, gently tapping the back of her knee with a booted foot. "Kick here," I tried to say. She was very strong, and it was hard to move my jaw enough to speak.

She released me and I stumbled forward, breathing heavily.

"There, or just above the ankle. Your hands and arms are still free like that, but you won't have a good angle to strike. Have you had to fight before?"

Shaking my head, I couldn't look at her directly. I chose to stare at her shoulder instead.

"No, but I used to live in a place where information was freely available. Unarmed fighting for sport was pretty popular, and there were a lot of people who would explain how and why different things worked."

Intrigued by the notion, she asked, "Fighting for sport? That sounds a good time. So, you watched people fight often?"

"Sometimes? There were a few kinds, wrestling, boxing, but the most brutal was always the MMA competitions."

"Boxing? Ememay?"

"Oh, boxing is where two fighters wear padded gloves and try to punch each other into submission. MMA is an acronym that stands for mixed martial arts, so you had people from all sorts of fighting schools competing."

She seemed almost to have stars in her eyes, she was so interested. "Yea? What's a school?"

I blinked, not expecting that question. "A place of learning, or a broad… Uhm, kind of learning? In this case, I mean the kind of learning, because there were many many different kinds of fighting that people had studied."

"Oh. So that is how you learned this much about fighting?"

I nodded, "I never participated or studied it seriously, but I was interested in it for a while and picked up a few small things."

Grenwin chuckled. Had I said something funny?

"That explains much, then. Here, let me show you a few more ways to break out o' a hold like that before we run out of light."

For the next hour, she made true to her promise. She encouraged me to be as brutal as I could; if it ever came down to them or me, I should always do everything possible to make sure I win. Grenwin was an excellent mentor, I felt, and I wasn't surprised when she said she'd been teaching Ygdis as well. She even floated the idea of having the two of us fight against each other. From the way Ygdis had danced, I felt she was going to wipe the floor with me. Still, I agreed to the idea. Grenwin wanted to help and I'd already promised to listen to her.

Afterward, we sat together in the fading light on a snow-covered log and talked about life here in the frozen north.

"What are those white trees, really?" I asked her, pointing up at the tree at the center of the village. "I can't make heads or tails of them."

Grenwin hummed, a deep rumble emanating from the base of her throat as she considered. "Those are weirwoods. That one is a heart tree. You can tell from the carving."

"What's the difference between a weirwood and a heart tree? Is their wood useful for anything?"

"The gods dwell within the weirwoods," Grenwin said quietly. "It is said the ancient Singers carved the first heart trees so the gods might see through their eyes and speak through their mouths. Men have carved faces of our own, too. You can tell one from the other by checking the skin of the face and the features. If it is smooth as the rest of the bark, or if it is not a human face, then it was sung into being. If the skin is rough, then it was carved by men. Both are sacred. As for the uses…"

She trailed off, tapping fingers against her thigh. "Weirwood is strong, flexible, and does not rot. My clan mother wields a weirwood bow that has been passed from mother to daughter for ten thousand years, and it is still as fearsome a weapon as it ever was."

"Oh, interesting. Does that—"

My response was curtailed by a duo of lights being taken from a passing constellation.

Oh, wow.

The smaller of the pair contained an incredible store of knowledge regarding nanotechnology. It took a long moment to appreciate the depth of this light, granting everything from the theoretical understanding of nanoscale alloys to the practical engineering of autonomous nanomachines. Wherever this had come from, it was far ahead of anything I was familiar with. Sure, there had been small-scale nanotechnological breakthroughs in the early '20s, but they were still far from practical use. I was awestruck by the sheer breadth of it all. There were few limits to what purpose-built nanomachine colonies could achieve.

They were surprisingly dangerous, however. They had to be carefully maintained and controlled, or else they would go out of control. There wasn't any risk of a grey goo scenario, and if any cropped up, it would be easily handled with a bit of fire. Nanomachines could only operate properly in specific environments and could be damaged or disrupted by anything from high temperatures to energetic fields. The biggest danger I saw came from the potential for medical nanites to malfunction and enact cascading alterations and mutations in vivo. Thankfully, the risk was essentially nonexistent when used properly with adequate equipment. However, if someone were to come into contact with inactive medical nanites and they were to somehow be activated outside of a controlled environment, the results would be horrific.

The second light was four times as large as the first and just as interesting. It granted me the ability to extract nanotechnology from external sources and store it within myself, as well as absolute control over any nanotech or nanotech-derived equipment within my immediate vicinity.

More importantly, it had loaded my body with trillions of nanites. They were useless on their own, blank slates with no programming, but the control ability had somehow forced them into medical routines. Even now, I had a vague awareness of everything they were doing within my own body, tuning it to peak human ability. They seemed to be producing material from nowhere, casually violating the law of conservation of mass. I watched through instinctive status reports as they somehow pulled sugars, proteins, and fats from nothing to supply my cells with nutrients.

These trillions of tiny machines were more than capable of healing me from even the most grievous wounds, given time. The severity and complexity of an injury mattered; a bruise could be repaired in seconds, an arm regrown in minutes, and brain injuries could take anywhere from almost instant to days to fix. Neural networks were incredibly complex and the nanites would need prior information to restore them accurately if they were damaged. The nanocolony in my body was constantly analyzing my mental state, decentralizing my memories and providing an incredibly robust backup in case my brain was damaged.

I could heal others with this, too, and do more besides. Physical alterations could take place in minutes and infectious illnesses could be swept aside in moments. It was stunning how quickly they could work. Even aging could be reversed without any long-term consequences, given time to work.

If I could put together the right equipment to contain a small colony, I could even extract some of the blank nanites and reprogram them for almost any task. I had thought that the fabricator was the greatest thing I could have been given, but with these, I could make so much more. I envisioned communal nanofabricators that would serve anyone who needed them, trash bins that would convert waste into airborne medicines, and factories to produce the varied materials my ecotech required; the possibilities seemed endless.

A nudge to my shoulder drew me out of my thoughts. Grenwin's face was close to mine, and green eyes were looking at me with brows drawn in concern.

"What is it? Are you well?"

"I'm fine, just…" I didn't know how to explain it, but looking into her eyes, I felt the need to be truthful. I wanted her to understand, I found. "I'm getting better over time, I think."

She cocked her head, "Better over time?"

I frowned, looking at my hands. "Every so often, something happens and I get something. Knowledge, abilities, skills, even that shelter."

Blinking slowly at me, Grenwin's face turned confused, "What do you mean?"

How to explain?

"I woke up in the snow outside… Han's Ford? Yeah, I woke up there in the middle of the night, the night before yesterday."

Confused, she grabbed my hand, examining it before clutching it close.

"Not cold, and you don't have those blue eyes. I don't understand?"

"I don't think I'm able to describe it well. There's a space in my mind that's like the night sky, full of lights. Sometimes, the lights move and come close enough that I can take some, and each light has something that I get when I take it. The sword was one of them, and so was the magic hall, and there's more besides. So much more."

Grenwin nodded slowly, motioning for me to continue, her eyes wide in confusion.

"So, sometimes they're really big and have a lot of implications. I just caught a couple of lights that… It's complicated, but I can heal myself and others."

"Heal? Like a woods witch?"

I shook my head, "I dunno about that. Do you want me to try healing you to prove it?"

She smirked, humoring me. Pulling her sleeve up, she turned her arm over and pointed out a patch of rough skin. It looked like an old burn, as though someone had taken a heated rod and rolled it across her inner arm. I hoped this had been from an accident and not something intentionally done to her.

"Try, then."

Using the nanites on someone else was very similar to using them on myself. It took very little time before enough of them had passed through the skin on my hand and into hers that her body was saturated with them, and I received an incredible amount of information. More than the burn, her skull had been fractured when she'd been young and had healed over, her right arm had been broken in three places before being set improperly, and there were a series of long scars running down the length of her back, as though someone had routinely cut her with a knife. My blood chilled as I interpreted the injuries; the more I looked, the more it seemed she'd been the victim of horrific abuse when she'd been just a child.

I set the nanites to generally heal and they began to work. Overseeing the process, I noted they followed my intent flawlessly. They weren't automated themselves; rather, the micromachines were driven by my control ability. It meant that they were completely safe and effective, as long as I was present, at least. In moments, Grenwin's old wounds and scarring had been repaired, the long-term effects of malnutrition treated as though it had never been, and even the skin on her face had cleared up of old acne scarring.

I withdrew the nanites as soon as they were done, releasing her hand.

She took a deep breath, studying the smooth skin where the burn had been, then stood and stretched. Turning to me, she appeared quite pleased.

"I've not been this limber in years! All the aches are gone!"

Rotating her arms, she rubbed her shoulder, where it had once been dislocated and repositioned badly. "No pain! Hah!" She laughed disbelievingly, pulling up her sleeves and examining the flawless skin on her other arm.

"I can't believe it. You healed me o' my scars? All o' them?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I can heal myself too, from injuries that would kill anyone else. Looks like I'll be keeping my stuff after all." I grinned at her.

Grenwin studied her arms for a long while more, expression closed off and posture suddenly unreadable to me. Was she angry? Should I not have done that? I wouldn't put them back, even if I knew how, and anxiety curled in my belly.

"I've never heard o' anything like this before. Not in any o' the stories, or myths, or legends." She raised her eyes to meet mine, "You keep getting more things like this?"

I nodded again. "I'm sorry if you didn't want the rest of your scars gone. I, uhm, I acted without thinking. The lights, they seem inconsistent, but I've gathered several in the last couple of days. It might slow down, or it might not, I don't know."

She kneeled next to where I was sitting in the snow, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. She didn't look angry like I thought she might be; she seemed excited.

"Explains why you want to claim yourself Queen-Beyond-the-Wall. If I could do what you could, I'd be the greatest Queen there has ever been!"

I shrugged, "Maybe? I don't want to do it out of a desire for power, I just want to make as many people safe and happy as I can. I think it would be good to get as many of the free folk below the wall as we can, then settle somewhere nice and establish ourselves as a force that the southerners can't just destroy on a whim. After that, I think I'd probably step back unless people wanted me to stay in charge."

She looked into my eyes, "Hard to imagine a life below the Wall. If you can make it happen, the free folk would follow you until another proved themselves better."

I nodded, refusing to blink.

"I promise to do my best to make it happen."

Grenwin shrugged at that, "Sure. We'll just have to see if you can or not."

"So, what else can you tell me about the heart trees?"

We talked for a few hours into the night, going over a good deal of the culture of the free folk.

Eventually, the conversation turned to a man named Mance Rayder, a King-Beyond-the-Wall. She thought Mance had been the best hope they had for escaping the Others alive, something she had a unique insight into. The way she told it, the rest of First Fork seemed to think that Mance was merely another strong leader, and they wanted to see if he succeeded before going to join him.

Eventually, fatigue caught up with me and I asked if I might be able to sleep under her roof again. Grenwin grinned and said she'd allow it, for now. She pulled me up to my feet and led me back to her hut. After stripping my boots and trousers, hanging up the belt, and propping up the sword, I snuggled back into my pile of furs. While I was starting to feel a little gross, considering I hadn't had a real bath in days, I felt satisfied with the course of the day.

Exhausted and listening to Grenwin's snoring in the background, I fell asleep before I knew it.