As life at the Fist of the First Men continued, the days blurred together into one. Time existed as a haze in the background; no one was quite sure how long the Night's Watch had been there. All they knew was the cold and ice, the restless nights and the constant looking over their shoulders for threats. For Caitie, things took on a routine: stable duties, watch duties, and more—so similar to her time at Castle Black that if she tried hard enough, she could pretend she was still there.

With an absence.

It loomed over her, like her own personal cloud overhead. No matter what she did, it followed. She felt like she was constantly running from a downpour, and only barely staying ahead of it. Most of the time, she could, by simply refusing to think about any of it. But every once in a while, the downpour would catch up with her. Her friends knew to leave her alone when that happened.

Of course, she couldn't deny that it was getting easier—even with Sam's steadfast refusal to believe Jon was anything other than alive and on his way back to them. Grenn and Edd helped, too, in their own way. They were in this shitty situation together, Caitie supposed, so they might as well try to make it easier for one another. Usually, that meant drinking whatever they could find—no matter how gut-wrenchingly awful—and trying not to dwell on the constant stinging cold or the danger they faced every day.

"Oh," Sam said, early one morning as they roused themselves. "This is what I hate most about being a brother of the Night's Watch."

"The gettin' up early?" Edd asked, rubbing his eyes.

"No, it's not that. It's waking up without a good book to read."

Caitie and Edd exchanged tired glances. They didn't bother to hide their aggravation.

Sam frowned. "What? When I was a boy, I would always read in the mornings." There was no hint of grogginess in his tone.

Seven Hells, the sun wasn't even up yet. How was that even possible?

"'Course you did," Edd huffed under his breath.

Even with the grumpiness from his friends, Sam still refused to look anything other than cheery, wide-eyed, and awake.

Caitie wanted to punch the grin off of his fat face, but her limbs were much too heavy to try. She didn't want to take her arms out from under her sleeping roll.

"It's not normal to be so happy in the morning," she told him instead, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Not at all," Edd agreed.

"And why not?" Sam asked with a pointed look at Caitie. "Just because I don't mutter obscenities in the morning doesn't mean I'm not normal."

Caitie rolled her eyes at him. A few days earlier, she had made a rude comment regarding several anatomically difficult places Sam could stick his morning chipper. She couldn't muster the energy to feel bad about it.

"I wouldn't mutter obscenities if you didn't attempt to speak to me right when I've woken up," she said as she tried and failed to stifle a yawn. "And, either way, it was only once."

Edd barked out a laugh. "You were imaginative with it, at least."

Well, at least someone here appreciated her creativity.

"I try my best."

Grenn stirred a moment later, pushing himself up from his bedroll on Edd's other side. "More potato stew," he lamented, stretching his arms. "I said it before, and I'll say it again: piss-end of the fucking world."

"I could try sneaking you something else," Caitie offered as the sleep started to clear from her head. "I'm rather good at stealing. I even think there might be some deer left."

"Don't get yourself in trouble with the lord commander just for me."

"After dragging us to the 'piss-end of the fucking world,' I'd say he owes us a debt. After forcing us up at ungodly hours of the morning, I'd even say he owes us two."

For allowing Jon to get himself killed, Mormont owed a thousand, but Caitie didn't share the thought.

Grenn snorted. "I'd like to hear you tell him that."

"Hmm." She imagined the scenario. "He probably wouldn't appreciate it, would he?"

Grenn raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms in response.

"Well, it's too bad he isn't a Lannister," Caitie joked, inwardly resisting the urge to spit at the ground when mentioning that awful, awful name. It was easier to joke about them than it was to scream, but just barely.

"What?"

"'A Lannister always pays his debts.' Haven't you heard the saying?" He gave her a blank look. "Technically, it isn't their official house words, but people use it so much it might as well be."

Especially after what Tywin Lannister had done to House Reyne, but that was too abhorrent to think about so early in the morning.

"I don't even know the official Tully house words, and I grew up in the Riverlands."

"Family, Duty, Honor," she quoted from memory. "Tell me you at least know the Stark words."

Caitie loved the Stark words; they were so much better than House Norrey's. Tall as the Mountain always sounded so pretentious to her. Though that could have been because At Norwood, she couldn't get five minutes of peace before someone quoted it to her.

Grenn shrugged, furrowing his brows in thought. "Something about winter."

"Winter is Coming," she corrected, stifling a laugh. His complete lack of knowledge or caring for the words of the Great Houses was wildly endearing, for some odd reason.

He grinned at her. "Well, I was close."

"Mm, you're just a beacon of knowledge."

To her annoyance, Edd interrupted the conversation, asking, "How d'you know any of that?"

Caitie silently cursed herself for what felt like the millionth time. Every day, every conversation she had with her friends, the more lapses she made. It had started with the dragonglass comment, but with each little mistake, Caitie felt the facade slipping—and she didn't know how to stop it.

Perhaps the reason was she wanted them to know the truth. Edd and Grenn were her friends, but how could they be real friends when they didn't truly know her? She would pose this question to herself over and over, even as she knew that, however she felt, she couldn't tell them. The more people she told, the more dangerous her situation.

A small voice in the back of her head that told her there was another reason: fear her friends would turn on her the moment they found out.

She pushed it down as soon as it emerged and grinned, pretending to feel confident. "I'm just smarter than you lot, I suppose."

"Your fat head's three times bigger than your body," Edd said. He gave her a friendly shove, to which she shoved back.

"Well, he's smarter than me," said Grenn.

Caitie tried and failed to hold her tongue. "That isn't saying very much, though, is it?"

Edd snorted while Grenn shook his head, fighting back a smile.

"Your mouth is gonna get you in trouble if you're not careful," he said, leaning towards her ever-so-slightly.

"It has, actually—multiple times."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Before Caitie could reply with something undoubtedly witty and engaging, Sam shook her shoulder. "Come on; we're going to be late."

Reluctantly, she stood, trying to ignore the biting cold, and yawned again. "Fine, but tomorrow I'm sleeping in."

Edd rolled his eyes. "You've been saying that every morning for a week."

"I know. And I mean it every time."

With that, Caitie started towards the Watch's makeshift stables. As she got closer, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, surprised to find Sam still following. They usually split here, with him going to the lord commander's tent.

"You were flirting," he said with a punchable little smile once they were at her destination.

"What?" Caitie stared at him, horrified. "With Edd?"

She liked Edd a lot, but Gods, not like that. He had to be close to her father's age. The notion that she could be flirting with him made her want to vomit, eat some cabbage, and then vomit again.

"No!" he exclaimed, just as horrified as she. "Gods be good, no. I meant with Grenn."

"Oh." Caitie looked down at her feet, refusing to make eye contact. One look and he'd know.

As it went, not making eye contact didn't work any better at concealing it.

Sam smiled mischievously. "So, you were."

There was a scoff, and she replied flippantly, "Of course not. I never flirt."

"Now, that is a lie, and you know it." He shook his head in amusement. "Well, I always knew you liked him."

She crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Have you any idea how many times you've said this to me? You and Jon were relentless."

Mentioning Jon, she felt her chest tighten, but Caitie pushed the feeling back—an improvement from a few weeks earlier.

"We were right, weren't we?" Sam asked, the annoying grin refusing to leave his face.

They were right, obviously, but she would never, ever admit it to anyone. She'd rather die. "No. Grenn's my friend; nothing more and nothing less."

"Mm, all right."

Caitie closed her eyes and exhaled a breath, trying to contain her growing frustration. "You know nothing could ever happen—we've had that discussion. So why bring this up?"

"Because you can still admit you like him." Sam's smile grew even wider. "Also, I think he likes you, too."

To that, Caitie almost laughed. "I see the cold has finally taken your sanity."

"There's no need to be rude."

She ignored him. "You do realize he believes I'm a boy, right?"

Sam ruffled her hair, making her feel like a small child. It only furthered her annoyance. "Sometimes, my little kitty-cat," he said, still ignoring her withering glare, "a man can feel something without even knowing."

"Oh yes, and you have such experience in these matters," she retorted.

He said nothing—only wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Caitie pouted a bit more petulantly than she should have, considering her age, but she thought Sam deserved it. "You're a mean person."

"I'm the best person you know," he reminded her.

"Not right now."

Sam responded by laughing and ruffling her hair once again.

Scowling half-heartedly, Caitie batted his hand away and turned around to the horses' troughs to fill it. When she finished, she asked, "So then, what? You think I should tell him?"

Caitie waited for him to answer, but she wasn't entirely sure what she wanted that answer to be. Sam opened his mouth to speak but closed it again soon after, without a word.

"Hmph. That's what I thought." She crossed her arms and snorted.

Whatever he would have told her next got cut off when Lord Commander Mormont joined them. Caitie couldn't decide whether she was glad for the interruption or not.

"Tarly," he said, not bothering to greet either one of them, "I'm sending you to gather kindling."

They all knew what kindling meant—animal droppings. Caitie and Sam gave each other subtle looks of disgust—though they'd perfected their expressions to be imperceptible to the lord commander.

"Take Grenn and Edd with you, and return before midday," he continued, oblivious.

The looks of disgust changed to ones of confusion. Mormont usually tried to keep the four of them together when possible. Caitie had fed the horses; there was no reason she couldn't join Sam, Grenn, and Edd to find their animal droppings, disgusting as it may be.

Before either could question it, however, the lord commander barked, "Go. And release the ravens, while you're at it."

Sam sent Caitie one last apologetic glance, to which she smiled as reassuring as she could—hiding that she hated being forced away from her friends. Being alone always set her on edge, especially with Rast and Karl Tanner wandering about their camp.

When Sam was out of sight, she bobbed her head. "M'lord."

Caitie expected—wanted—the lord commander to leave, so when he didn't, she asked, "Is there something else?"

Mormont nodded curtly. "Aye, there is, now that you mention it," he said. "You'll be taking over for Tarly as my steward."

Caitie stared at him, eyes wide with astonishment. Sam had been stewarding for the lord commander for months now, and he was quite good at it—with his perfect memory and administrative skills.

Why make a change now? And why her?

She didn't know what to say to him, but that was to be a getting to be a common occurrence for her when in Lord Commander Mormont's presence.

"Have you gone mute?" he asked irritably.

At the tone, Caitie stood up straight. "No, I apologize, m'lord. I was merely surprised."

The formal words felt strange to say. She had spent so long in the Night's Watch now; she'd nearly forgotten courtesy—a lady's greatest weapon, as Septa Melarie never tired of insisting.

But as Cerys liked to tell Caitie: Courtesy won't stop you from being raped, whereas a good dagger might.

Out here, Cerys had the right of it.

She smiled slightly at the thought of her elder brother before she remembered she was supposed to be angry with him. And yet, Caitie couldn't be angry with him or Owen. It wasn't her brothers' faults their father had power he shouldn't.

When he realized she'd stopped paying attention, Mormont cleared his throat. Thankfully, he didn't remark beyond, "Right, well—go sharpen my sword, then. And after you're done, bring me some breakfast."

Caitie acknowledged the request and started heading towards the sledge. But the question was nagging at her now, and she couldn't bring herself to let it go. "Why me?"

The lord commander looked uncomfortable for a moment, as if she had caught him off guard, but it passed quickly. "Samwell Tarly's a good lad," he said, "but he's too timid. Better to have you."

Mormont hadn't answered Caitie's question at all, and it only made her more curious. But it felt like an idiotic idea to push the man who might kill her if he knew the truth.

Better to stay on his good side.

With that in mind, she decided it was best to let her curiosity go and do as he asked. With a respectful nod at the lord commander, she set off.

Caitie picked it up from the Watch's sledge and grabbed the sword from the lord commander's tent. After finding a secluded spot, she sat down and started working.

And then everything went to hell.

It started in the blink of an eye. One moment, the skies were clear, and the next, the Fist of the First Men was swarmed by snow, ice, and winds so strong that it burned her skin.

This storm made the last one seem like Dorne in comparison—or what Caitie imagined Dorne to feel like, anyhow. The hands gripping her daggers were somehow numb and painful all at the same time, and her entire body shook from the bitter cold.

At first, the brothers of the Night's Watch whispered to each other in anxious tones, wondering how they were to survive such an intense storm like this. But then someone shouted "Seven Hells, what is that?" and pointed to the valley below them.

The whispers got louder, turning to nervous muttering as the brothers of the Night's Watch gathered at the edge of the mountain, jostling and pushing past one another to get a look. When they saw what was down there, half the men went still as stone and their expressions changed to abject horror. The other half panicked, stumbling backward, shouting that this couldn't be real.

Since she was too short to see from the back, Caitie weaved through them to see what was happening, dreading what she would find. Half these men were seasoned warriors; only one thing could elicit this kind of reaction from them.

Though had an idea of what she would see when she got to the front of the crowd, she still stopped dead in her tracks when she saw it.

An impossibly large army of dead men inched towards the Fist of the First Men.

She couldn't move. Every muscle in her body had tensed up. As she watched, her heart beat out of her chest—so fast she thought she would die just from that. When she realized that this would be her fate when she died, her initial shock turned into terror.

The wights from Castle Black flitted to the forefront of her mind, but there had only been two of them. This army housed thousands; maybe even tens of thousands. Nothing could prepare her for it.

Caitie wondered again if her eyes would change from their original ice blue when the White Walkers took control of her body. The thought did nothing to help her calm down.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Commander Mormont emerge to the front of the crowd. "Blow the horn!" he shouted at one of the men—Dirk, she thought was his name.

Dirk was too busy staring at the army of the dead in distress to listen.

"Now, you idiot!"

The lord commander's shout broke the spell. Dirk snapped to attention and did as he was told, blowing the horn once, twice, then three times.

Three blasts for White Walkers. She didn't want to believe it was real, even though she was watching it unfold with her very eyes.

Someone—Caitie wasn't sure who, as it went by so quickly—shoved a torch into her hand. She reluctantly sheathed one of her daggers and accepted, knowing a torch was probably the better weapon for the coming fight. Still, it felt wrong, only having a single dagger in hand. They were meant to be two halves of a whole; two daggers, but only one weapon.

Then Caitie looked back down at the approaching army and decided she could live with it.

"Men of the Night's Watch!" the lord commander rallied, raising his sword. "For the Watch!"

The others followed suit, crying "For the Watch!" but Caitie was too busy looking around to echo the others, trying to find her three friends.

Neither Sam, Grenn, or Edd were anywhere in sight. She would have seen them otherwise—Sam was easy to notice. If they'd been overrun…

Looking back at the army of the dead, she banished the thought from her mind. If she obsessed about the possibility any longer, she might break down. And as her life depended on doing the opposite, she had only one choice: to put everything out of her mind and focus on the impending battle.

By the time the wights reached them, the snowstorm had become so extreme that Caitie could barely see a few feet in front of her. It was difficult to hear the others beyond the crunch and squelch of death. In her peripheral vision, she could see bodies fighting around her: a flash of sword, a black cloak, a head of hair. But there were so few brothers and so many wights, she couldn't tell who was who and what was what.

Three skeletons came at her, but she dodged before they were able to strike. Swiftly as she possibly could, Caitie came up behind one of them, sticking her dagger in its back. She pulled the dagger out and beheaded it less than a second later, but the wight didn't fall. It only kept moving towards her, now headless.

Of course—only fire could kill a wight. How had Caitie been so stupid to forget that already? They'd even given her a torch.

Immediately, she changed tactics and started towards the three skeletons. They didn't seem to register that the fire would kill them, as none shied away. They all kept advancing towards her with not a care in the world, even as she lit them on fire.

The wights fell to the ground, dead and burning.

There wasn't a moment to rest before another one ran in her direction. She killed it fast enough, slicing with her blade and burning it. But then another advanced on her—and another, and another after that. The more she killed, the more seemed to appear. There had to be at least fifteen now, perhaps more, all closing in, only focused on killing her. Four of them had been children, but they were mutilated almost beyond recognition. Bile rose in her throat.

That was when Caitriona Norrey knew she was going to die—as the not-children closed in around her.

Unbidden, it occurred to her almost no one she loved would know it. Not Owen, Arthur, or Cerys—not Jon, if he was even alive. They would never know that she was dead. That she was worse than dead.

She'd just had the thought when a white flash lept in front of her, growling and tearing the wights apart.

It—it was Ghost.

Even in the blinding conditions, Caitie could see the direwolf's bright red eyes as he tore down five wights at once. Jon had said he'd send his direwolf back. Did this mean he was still alive?

There was no time to contemplate the development and its implications, no matter how much she wished, because there were still too many wights left. Ghost needed her help. The two of them dispatched the remainder of the wights surrounding them—Caitie with her torch and Ghost with his teeth. She didn't allow herself to linger on the burning bodies of the not-children.

The fire was everywhere, the smoke from it burned her eyes and throat, but the heat was welcome amidst the storm. No matter how many she and Ghost killed, more kept coming, crawling over the bodies of their dead brethren to reach their targets.

Ghost was growling, low and menacing, but it didn't seem to scare the wights any more than the fire had, and at the complete lack of reaction to danger, Caitie realized something. Initially, she had thought the wights were in some sort of half-life; not alive, but not truly dead. Unintelligent, but with some understanding of the world around them.

She had been wrong. They weren't in a state between life and death, nor were they simply unintelligent. They were utterly mindless. Even animals had survival instincts—but not these creatures. They were vessels to be controlled, and nothing more. A corruption of everything they had been; a twisted sort of slave.

Jon hadn't described wights quite like that, though perhaps Caitie had always known. Perhaps she'd just wanted to believe otherwise, because a small, childish part of her hoped they could be brought back, somehow.

She should have known—there was no coming back from this.

She still felt sick. What the White Walkers were doing to these people—desecrating their corpses and turning them into mindless nothings—there wasn't a word to describe how evil that was.

She cut down three more of them as best she could, hacking with her dagger and swinging her torch with precision, while Ghost bit into whatever piece of skeleton he could find.

Soon, Caitie heard footsteps from behind her, faint but there. Turning around, she saw Grenn less than a yard away, panting and bloodied. He skidded to a halt, eyes half-wild with shock. "What the hell is going on?" he shouted breathlessly, trying to make his voice heard over the screaming wind.

"I don't know!" she hollered back. "They came out of nowhere!"

Grenn opened his mouth to reply when Caitie saw a wight come up behind him. This one was large, with large chunks of skin missing from its face and a gaping black hole where one of its eyes should have been. When she saw Grenn had no fire of his own, she grabbed his arm and yanked him out of the way, just as the wight struck. Ghost lunged, biting off its head before it could regain its momentum.

They didn't even have time to breathe. More and more wights materialized around of them, but luckily Grenn had gotten his bearings now. He slashed at them with his sword, taking an arm here or a leg there, while Caitie put them to the torch.

The system seemed to work. Wave after wave of undead attacked them, and wave after wave fell to their weapons. Finally, the number of wights began to dissipate, giving them a moment to pause and take in their surroundings.

"Do you think that's all of them?" Grenn asked.

Before she could tell him no, those wights could only be a fraction of the entire army, a shudder ran through her whole body as the temperature dipped further. She thought maybe she'd imagined it for a split second, but when the two of them looked up, Caitie knew she hadn't.

Because just within their range of vision stood a White Walker.

It was tall, white, and skeletal, with long, thinning hair, like a corpse—wraith-like, Caitie thought described it best. It wore no armor, only a cloth covering its groin, but that did nothing to lessen the threat. She was too far away to see its eyes, but somehow, Caitie knew if she could, they'd be the same color blue as the eyes of the wights she'd killed.

The White Walker stood unmoving; so still, it looked like a statue. Despite that, however, Caitie was sure it had seen them. After what felt like an eternity—but must have been less than a second—it moved towards the three living creatures ever so slowly, almost as if it wanted to savor their fear as it came to kill them.

Her torch flickered and died.

"Caitie?" Grenn asked shakily.

He's asking me what we should do, she realized. But we can't fight that. She nodded once, acknowledging she'd seen it, and barely managed to choke out, "Run."

Grenn wasted no time. He grabbed her hand, and along with Ghost, they sprinted as fast as they could, away from a fate worse than death.