After her conversation with Gilly, Caitie set off to find Jon so she could apologize, though she dreaded the idea of it. After spending more than half a year with him, she could safely say that he enjoyed being right about as much as she did. Which meant, of course, that he would be smug for the rest of the night, even if he tried not to show it.

Still, this was something Caitie needed to do, and putting it off would only make it that much harder. With a sigh, she started towards the Watch's fire—a large, deep pit sitting just in front of the door to the inside—where she figured he'd be having supper with the others. When she got there, however, the only one of her friends in sight was Edd, sitting hunched over on a bench, his face just barely avoiding getting licked by the flames as he dug into his supper.

"Where's Jon?" she asked.

Edd gestured towards the keep, though he didn't take his eyes off the stew he was inhaling. "With the lord commander."

Caitie sighed and sat herself down beside Edd. As much as she might want to, she couldn't barge in on a conversation that included the lord commander. She'd have to wait to speak with Jon.

In the meantime, she'd warm herself up and try to get some food in her, in spite of how it tasted.

"Ale?" Edd asked, handing her a cup.

Caitie took it appreciatively and gulped the ale down. She regretted it the moment the ale touched her lips. Unlike her usual reaction, the taste of it made her cough violently until her ribs ached. Edd chortled and thumped her on the back as she sputtered.

"What the hell is that? It's even worse than the ale at Castle Black," she said once she finished choking on her drink.

"Aye. This is the stuff Craster didn't want."

"I can see why." It didn't stop her from taking another tentative sip. After the day she'd had, Caitie needed it.

She and Edd fell into a companionable silence. As they sat, watching the flames, Caitie sipped as much of the ale as she could stomach and thought of home—both of Norwood and Castle Black.

The quiet did not last long. Through the flames, Caitie saw two people sit down on the bench opposite to hers and Edd's. When they began speaking to each other, she had to suppress a groan. The first of the men was Rast, and that would have been bad enough. But the second made Rast look like a puppy.

Karl Tanner.

If Jon and Sam were the best the Night's Watch had to offer, then Karl Tanner was the worst. He was sadistic and unremorseful. His face, framed by cropped black hair, never seemed to portray anything other than cruel humor, and his eyes were squinty, making him look perpetually suspicious.

"I'd fuck them," Tanner was saying as they sat themselves down. "Don't matter to me their daddy's broken them in."

Caitie tensed.

"Don't do anything stupid," Edd said quietly.

But he didn't understand. She wasn't tensing from anger—although she was angry. She was tensing from fear.

Rast was, to put it mildly, an utter moron. The likelihood of him being smart enough to figure her out was slim, at best, and he couldn't hope to defeat her in a fair fight. Karl Tanner, on the other hand… He knew what he was doing when it came to a blade, nor was he stupid. Caitie knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would rape her if he ever found out the truth, and she didn't know if she could stop should he try.

"I'd take the short blonde one," Rast said.

Tanner glared coldly. "You can have her after me."

She heard Edd snort quietly in disgust. "Brothers of the Night's Watch," he said. "So much for their vows."

Caitie nodded slowly and stared into the fire, trying to ignore the horrible images now flashing through her head.

Tanner broke her out of her unwanted musings. "Caitie, is it?"

She narrowly avoided flinching at the sound of her name from his rasping, gravelly voice. "Yes," she said, pitching her voice as low as she could and trying to seem unafraid. Caitie wasn't sure she sounded convincing, but it didn't matter. Tanner didn't notice.

He observed her for a moment or so, eyes flicking up and down her form. "You're not from Flea Bottom." It wasn't a question.

"No," she said, "I'm from White Harbor." Caitie was rather impressed with how smoothly she lied.

"An' how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

"Yer a little runt." She was sure he meant it as a joke, but his laugh was so devoid of emotion, it didn't come off as funny.

She forced a chuckle anyway.

"I saw you sparring with that Snow bastard the other day. You could teach me a few tricks with those daggers of yours."

Caitie wanted to say no, she couldn't, but Tanner hadn't asked; he'd commanded, and she was too afraid—too weak, she thought to herself—to aggravate him unnecessarily.

Luckily, before Caitie could answer one way or another, Jon came to stand by her side.

"Mormont wants you," he said, not even bothering to hide his glare at Tanner.

Tanner scowled. "He's not done here."

That scowl would have cowed anyone else. But Jon didn't back down. "Should I tell the lord commander you interfered with an order?"

Somehow, Tanner managed to scowl even deeper, but this time, he didn't argue. Not even the scourge of Flea Bottom could muster the courage to disobey Lord Commander Mormont.

Caitie scrambled up as fast as she could and followed Jon away from the fire. She felt terrible for leaving Edd with only those monsters for company, but not enough to stay. He, at least, wasn't in any actual danger from them.

Once she and Jon were alone in a covert location, beyond the grounds of the keep, yet not far enough to be in any danger, she exhaled the breath she'd been holding since Tanner had sat down. A second later, she flung her arms around Jon's neck. "Thank you so, so much. Gods, I really owe you."

Right as she finished speaking, Caitie froze, realizing she'd never properly hugged Jon before. It didn't feel bad, exactly. Just... strange and new and mildly awkward. But it was too late to take it back now.

After a pause of neither moving, he cleared his throat, patted her awkwardly on the back, and pulled away to look her over. "Are you all right?"

"I think so. Tanner doesn't seem to suspect anything." Caitie hesitated before speaking again, instead staring down at her feet as she worked up the courage to do what she'd promised herself. It was time to apologize. "Listen. I shouldn't have yelled at you earlier. I was…" she forced herself to say the word, "wrong." Gods, but she hated admitting it.

Jon gaped, staring at her with his eyes wide.

"Oh, don't look so surprised," she said, putting a hand on her hip and rolling her eyes. "I can admit it."

The gape quickly turned to a smirk.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it," she grumbled as she tried to hide a smile.

Jon chuckled as he squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry, too," he said. "I do wish we could have helped Gilly. You know that, right?"

Caitie sighed. "I do. I just really hate it here; I think it's wearing on me."

"I know. And I'm sorry to tell you, but Mormont says we'll be at the keep at least a week."

"Oh, how wonderful." She tapped on her arm with her fingers, trying to keep a lid on her frustration. "You know, Gilly said that Craster kills his sons. Or, well, she said 'sort of.' But I rather think it means the same thing."

"You spoke with her?" Realizing the misstep, Caitie grimaced. Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. "You told her, didn't you?"

She didn't answer. That was confirmation enough.

"You know, sometimes I think you have a death wish," he said.

"Suppose I wanted a girl to talk to—you could hardly blame me for it. I get sick of all you men, sometimes." Caitie nudged him, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't work. She sighed. "Gilly, of all people, understands. She isn't going to say anything."

Jon was silent for a long time, and then he said, as grave as death itself, "I hope you're right."

Caitie deflated instantly, hugging her arms to herself as she realized the true extent of her gamble. "Me too."

Caitie wanted, more than anything, to ignore Jon's words, but they stuck, despite her best efforts. To try and make her feel better, Jon gave her the last of his ale—thankfully, better than Edd's—but even the liquor did little to help Caitie sleep, and she stayed up half the night worrying over the consequences of her stupidity.

As the days went by, however, she found Gilly was true to her word. No one confronted her. And with the fear dissipating, the next week at Craster's was, somehow, not the worst thing in the world.

It wasn't particularly good, but it was at least better than expected.

Sam spent most of his time either secretly talking with Gilly, or about Gilly. With the aid of Ghost, Caitie and—grudgingly—Jon usually kept an eye out for anyone who might tell. Sometimes, Caitie even joined them. Gilly was a breath of fresh air after almost a year of spending every waking moment surrounded by men. They discussed everything Jon and Sam didn't appreciate. After learning Gilly didn't know how to braid hair, Caitie promised to teach her properly when they came back to the keep—because they would come back.

But, as much as she enjoyed Gilly's company, it was also heartbreaking to watch her and Sam interact.

Caitie knew he had liked Gilly, but as the days passed, she was starting to notice the signs of a man in love. She'd never seen it firsthand, but she wasn't stupid; it was in the way Sam looked at Gilly, in the way he smiled and laughed and cared so much he spoke of nothing else.

She wished she could support him, but Sam loving Gilly would end badly for everyone involved. Anyone with a brain knew that. And since Caitie had yet to find a way of helping, she also felt guilty every time she looked at them. As the week drew to a close, she began to distance herself from the situation.

As for Karl Tanner, he didn't bother Caitie often unless he wanted a sparring partner. While Tanner still terrified her, Caitie was beginning to see the situation as a gift in disguise. He was giving her all the information she would ever need to fend him off without even knowing it. When they practiced, Caitie would make a mental note: his technique worked best in close-quarter fighting, so he had trouble out in the open. He liked to play dirty, so she'd need to watch out for those tactics. He favored his right arm, and whenever he used his left to strike, it would be a fraction less precise.

She repeated the notes to herself at night when she couldn't sleep.

Beyond all this, Caitie played down her skills so he would underestimate her in a proper fight. Resisting the instinct to follow proper form was difficult, but she figured learning to act incompetent in a battle was an important skill to have, anyhow, especially as a woman. Whenever Tanner commented on one of Craster's daughters, Caitie would bite her tongue until she was alone, head for the nearest tree, and attack it with his image in her mind.

On their second-to-last night at Craster's Keep, after a long day of duties and sparring and dealing with Tanner, Caitie had fallen into a dreamless sleep near the firepit at the center of the keep; Sam on one side and Jon on the other. She wasn't sure what time it was when the door to the outside burst open and woke her—the middle of the night, if she had to guess, judging by the pitch black of the sky and the hooting of owls.

"Out, all of you," Craster said.

Rubbing her bleary eyes as everyone roused themselves, Caitie looked around the room, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. When she saw that Jon hadn't stirred from his sleeping roll, she went to shake him.

Except he was gone. There was no sign of him as she glanced around the room once again, this time frantically, until Sam elbowed her and nodded towards Craster.

Jon was laying, beaten and bloodied, at his feet.

"Bastard's been meddling where he shouldn't!" Craster said, kicking Jon's midsection. Caitie heard a groan, but before she could run to his side, Craster turned to the lord commander, Jon's sword in his hand. "I want you and your men gone. And you will make this right." His voice was low and deadly as he waved Longclaw at him.

"Wait outside," Mormont ordered Jon, though he didn't take his eyes off Craster.

Jon bristled, standing up. "Lord Commander—"

"Now!"

This time, he obeyed.

Sam didn't hesitate. He grabbed Caitie's arm and dragged her after their friend, out into the chilly night air. When they found Jon, Sam forced him to sit on the Watch's cart so he could tend to his wounds.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Caitie asked as Sam inspected his head injuries. By the looks of it, Jon would have a black eye for at least a week.

"I'm bloody fine," he spat.

"Your face seems to disagree." He glared at her, but Caitie ignored it and turned to Sam. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I need a wet cloth," Sam said.

She was about to go search for one when Lord Commander Mormont found them.

Sam swallowed nervously. "Lord Commander—"

"Leave now. Both of you."

Caitie had half a mind to refuse Mormont's orders and defend Jon—although she wasn't precisely sure what she would be defending him from—but Sam pulled her away back inside the keep before she could.

"We're packing up," Edd told them when they found the others. "Grab your things and start loading the sledge. The lord commander says we leave at sunup."

Caitie picked up her daggers, put on her cloak, and did as Edd told. It was a good distraction from worrying over Jon's fate. She spent the next three hours mindlessly doing as she was told until the sun rose into the sky.

Just as night turned to day, Gilly came out of the keep carrying a basket, and Sam, who was supposed to be helping Caitie load their ravens, followed her.

"Sam!" Caitie hissed.

It wasn't that she didn't want him to say goodbye to Gilly, but after last night, Caitie wanted to get out of the keep as soon as possible and with little fuss. If Craster caught yet another brother doing something he didn't like, he might just kill him.

No, he absolutely would.

Sam ignored her and snuck around the back of a large pile of logs. Caitie, though annoyed, turned around to stand watch.

"Gilly," he whispered.

"You're leaving." She sounded passive, but there was a layer of anger underneath.

"I—I wanted to give you something."

Caitie didn't hear much else of the conversation, mostly because she didn't want to intrude on it, but when Sam returned, his smile was so big she thought his face might fall off.

"Come on," he said, ignoring her suspicious stare. "Let's get all this packed."

An hour later, they were finally away from Craster's Keep. If not for the guilt of leaving Gilly behind, Caitie would have danced—actually danced—with happiness.

Instead, she kept her horse at the back of the group and trotted alongside Jon. He looked better than a few hours before, though he'd have scars from the night's incident.

"You got your sword back," she said, noticing Longclaw hanging from his belt.

"Aye."

Jon, quite visibly, wasn't in the mood to talk further, but Caitie couldn't help herself from asking, "What happened last night?"

He shifted on his horse, looking more uncomfortable than she'd ever seen him. "Nothing."

"You got us thrown out of the keep and beaten half to death. That is not nothing." He glared, but Caitie continued anyway. "Craster said you were meddling in things you shouldn't. But what could you have possibly seen that would make him so angry?"

As soon as she voiced her question, Jon turned sharply to look at her. His horse whinnied in protest, but he ignored it, focusing only on Caitie. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do," she replied immediately. "More than just about anyone."

"Then trust me when I say you don't want to know."

Caitie opened her mouth to argue. But one look at Jon's expression silenced her. As much as she hated being kept in the dark, there was a chilly finality to his words, to his voice, to his face, and it unnerved her. Whatever he'd seen, it had been truly abhorrent. And if that was the case, she wasn't entirely sure she did want to know.

"Okay. If you say I don't want to know..." She swallowed her morbid curiosity. "Then I trust you."

"Thank you," he said, letting out a breath.

True to her word, Caitie tried not to think about it any longer. But she couldn't help the feeling that Craster was doing something horrible—worse than raping his daughters—and it sat with her for the rest of their journey to the Fist.

Is it just me, or does anyone else find it strange that the leader of the mutineers doesn't get a proper introduction? Like, he shows up for the first time in the episode before the mutiny. Then everyone acts like it's such a shock when he kills Craster, but the payoff doesn't work because there was no setup for his character. Rast, yes—but Tanner, no. I mean, I understand he's a show-only character, but my god, if you're going to create a new villain, commit to it. Anyway, I gave him an introduction because it's always been a pet peeve of mine.