If summer's end hadn't been clear before, it was now.

The maesters had declared the ten-year summer over last year, but at the time, it had only been just that: a declaration. The shift in temperatures came slowly, especially in the northern regions where it was always cold. Autumn had crept up on Caitie until, one day, she looked up to see the leaves falling off some of the trees. It was the first time she'd ever seen anything like it. She hadn't been alive during the last autumn; until now, it had always been a story to her. Winter was a little less unfamiliar—she had a few memories of it—but nothing could have prepared her for the change.

She swore that the air had gotten even colder than her first time traveling through the southern end of the forest, though perhaps Caitie was only more perceptible to it in her weakened state. Hunger gnawed at her belly, exhaustion made it harder and harder to move her legs, and she could barely move her wrists any longer without searing pain. Each morning, she woke up terrified that the rot would set in, and she'd end up either dying from it or losing her hands.

It hadn't so far. The wounds were still a rough, stinging pain, and by the deep red color, she knew there would be scars, but that was a relief at this point—just scars. She could handle "just scars."

Of course, even that victory felt empty as her little party continued on, forcing themselves to push past all the pain, closer and closer to home.

Sometimes, on the days when she was willing to give in to self-pity, she wondered what it would accomplish. Jon was dead. And Caitie didn't know if Sam, Gilly, and the baby were alive, if her brothers were alive, or if she would live long enough to get home. But then she would think of the mutineers, and Caitie's stubbornness would spur her to keep going. It'd be a cold day in the hells before she died and those bastards lived.

So she, Grenn, and Edd survived, day by day. It passed uneventfully, for the most part. The only exception was one terrible rainstorm early on that drenched their clothes and hair and left them shuddered in an abandoned Wildling hut for the entire day.

They learned how to navigate the north as safely as they could. In some ways, it was easier with a smaller group. They figured out how to hunt without weapons, catching rabbits and even fish in nearby streams with just their hands. They made sure to keep their fires small and indoors, so no one—or nothing—would see it and spot them.

Caitie wondered if Sam, who never could figure out how to keep a fire going, would be okay in the wilderness without her to do it for him. But she also knew Gilly could make a fire, and hunt, and more. With her, he just might have made it home.

If he had found her. If nothing had found them on their way back.

It was the hope of seeing Sam and Gilly again that kept her on her feet more than anything else—even her stubborn desire to spite the mutineers. So when the Wall finally came into sight, sparkling blue and so tall a layer of clouds obscured the top, Caitie knew she should have been overjoyed.

But since they'd left Craster's Keep, anxiety had seized Caitie. At first, it hadn't been anything terrible, just a niggling worry at the back of her head. Except, it had only grown the further away they got from the keep, leaving her without excitement or relief at being so close to Castle Black. Instead of continuing, she looked back the way they'd come through the Haunted Forest. Grenn and Edd were still hobbling along in front of her, but Caitie stood rooted to the spot, searching futilely. The trees blocked out half of the light, so even though she knew it was midday, it felt like dusk.

"What're you looking for?" Grenn asked, turning back.

"Ghost," Caitie replied. "He should have found us by now. Something's wrong."

"You don't think the mutineers caught him, do you?"

"That's what I'm worried about." She gulped, the image flashing through her mind. "But Gods, I hope not."

"He could've gone back to Castle Black."

"I don't think so. He would have come looking for me before returning there." Caitie barely managed to hold back a sob at the thought. Speaking of her fear for Ghost out loud made it all the more real. She could imagine well enough what the mutineers would do to him once they captured him, and she just couldn't get the thoughts to stop. "I need to go back to the keep and look for him." With that, she turned around and started to hobble away back towards Craster's.

"What?" Grenn asked sharply. He grabbed her arm to keep her from moving any further.

She didn't take kindly to it. "Let me go."

"No."

"Seven Hells, I can't just leave him there! They'll torture him or kill him or—"

"Going back is the stupidest thing you've ever suggested," Edd interrupted, with nothing more than a small scowl on his face. "And I'm not about to let you get yourself killed for it."

Caitie wrenched her arm away from Grenn's grasp and turned her glare towards him. "I'm not going to abandon him. I'm not."

"You don't even know for sure if Ghost's there."

Were she not so tired, she would have argued on the point.

If only she had a good one.

Tears sprang to Caitie's eyes. She blinked them away quickly, trying to hide it all from her friends. "Damn it," she said. "Jon sent Ghost back for me—he entrusted him to me. I can't leave him behind."

The thought of him alone and scared was enough to drive her to madness. He was her friend, just as much as any human. She couldn't—she wouldn't—leave him.

Seeing her distress, Grenn sighed. "Come on." His arms wrapped around her, and he laid his chin on the top of her head.

Caitie crumbled into him at the contact. She was just so tired, so stressed and afraid, and she was smart enough to know there was no way out of it without more pain ahead. "I'm sick of not being able to do anything," she cried into his chest. "I can't help the people I love, and I hate it!"

"Way I see it," Edd said from behind them, "you're just looking to die."

"Maybe I am," she snapped, breaking out of Grenn's grip to glare at him. "So what? What's the point of living if everyone I care about is dead?"

Jon's face sprung to mind. Then her mother's, and Ghost's, and, surprisingly, even Lord Commander Mormont's.

"You don't mean that," Grenn said.

"Yes, I do. I really, really do."

"But everyone you care about isn't dead." He hesitated and then continued quietly. "I'm not."

She froze, looking back over to him, unsure how to respond—or think, or feel. Eventually, she regained what little composure she could. "And you'd better stay that way," she muttered, half to him, half to herself.

Caitie did know that he was right, deep down. And not only was Grenn alive, but Edd was alive, and Owen and Cerys, too—at least she hoped they were. Caitie had lost people, but she wasn't alone. Far from it. Yet, knowing that didn't help her feel any better—physically or emotionally.

"I plan on it," he said, chuckling. "Look, if we get back to Castle Black, we can get them to send a party to kill the mutineers and free Ghost. But we won't make it out here much longer."

With the way her wrists were screaming in pain, Caitie wasn't sure they'd make it out at all. But she couldn't bring herself to argue any longer. She'd used up her last burst of energy, and all she had left was exhaustion.

"It's just so hard to walk away," she murmured.

"I know it is. But you can't help him now, and I don't want you to die. So please come with us."

She closed her eyes. I'm sorry, Ghost.

It made her feel like the worst person in the world, but Caitie nodded. And when Grenn threw her a tired but relieved smile, she knew she'd made the right choice.

Caitie would never have made it back to the keep alive.

In fact, by the time they reached the gate of Castle Black a day later, the three of them were so weak they could barely stand, and she wondered if they would die regardless of her choice. Caitie certainly felt like she was about to die. With the way her teeth chattered, her body temperature had to be reaching a deadly low, and the only thing she could feel was the pain from her wrist wounds. Everything else had numbed from the cold.

As they approached the gate, painstakingly slow, she heard the horn blast once. Caitie couldn't help the relief that flooded through her, knowing the Night's Watch had seen them. The gate, a familiar portcullis made from cold-rolled steel, opened, followed by four brothers rushing out to greet them and help them through the tunnel.

She'd been expecting that. What Caitie hadn't been expecting was a set of dark, solemn eyes staring down at her as the man they belonged to hoisted her up. She'd know those eyes anywhere.

"You're alive!" she exclaimed.

And then she burst into tears.

"It's good to see you, too," Jon replied quietly.

Caitie's vision had doubled and blurred, but she could still make him out clearly enough to see a fresh set of scars on his face. His eyes were tougher—more battle-weary—too, but he was alive and well and looking about as happy to see her as she was to see him.

"I…" she trailed off, sniffling. She didn't know what to say. There were just too many questions: how was he alive? How had he made it back to the Wall? Where had he been for all these months? And if he was here, did that mean Ghost was, too?

It was too much to think in her state, let alone put into words.

"I th-thought you'd have b-blue eyes by now," Edd stammered through chattering teeth. That seemed to sum up her thoughts well enough for the moment.

She clung to Jon, feeling his chest rise and fall as he chuckled at Edd's comment. A different brother—Bedwin? Bardin? Something with a B—helped Jon support both her and Edd's weights while they hobbled into the courtyard. It took four men just to support Grenn. Black brothers shouted over each other, rushing to see what was happening. Jon guided Caitie to sit, and she squeezed herself between Edd and Grenn, shivering as their brothers crowded around them in a circle. Caitie noticed Pyp pushing his way through to get a better look.

"What took you so long?" Ser Alliser Thorne asked shortly—as if they were late for supper and nothing more.

"We were held up," Grenn answered for them.

"By what?"

He held up his fist, showing everyone the ring of blood around his wrist. "Chains."

"We were guests of the mutineers at Craster's Keep," Edd added.

"And the mutineers stayed?" Jon sounded almost frantic, bending down to their eye level.

Grenn nodded. "They're not going anywhere. They've got Craster's food and his wives."

At the mention of Craster's daughters, Jon's eyes widened a fraction. He glanced at Caitie. Understanding the unspoken question immediately, she shook her head and smiled, trying to convey to him that his worries were unfounded. The movement dizzied her. She listed towards Grenn, leaning against him to keep from falling.

"Poor girls." Edd's teeth were chattering so hard he could barely get out the rest of the snarky comment. "N-never thought they'd miss their daddy."

It said quite a lot about how weak and exhausted Caitie felt that she didn't reprimand him.

Jon turned away, putting his back to them, clearly thinking hard about something. She could see a slight limp in his step, now that he wasn't propping her up. He'd been hurt.

"Karl's running things now," Grenn said, oblivious to it all. "He's the one who put a knife in Craster's throat."

Upon hearing this, Jon spun around, his voice even more frantic than before. "We need to ride north and kill them all."

"We just went over this, boy," Thorne spat. "Justice can wait."

Caitie rolled her eyes, ignoring the wave of nausea it caused. It seemed as if their time away hadn't made the master-at-arms any less of a cranky old bastard.

"It's not about justice!" Jon exclaimed. "I told the Wildlings we had over a thousand men at Castle Black alone."

Caitie stared at her best friend in utter shock. So that's where he had been—how he'd survived. Jon had been living with the Wildlings. Knowing this only left her with more questions than answers.

"Karl and the others know the truth as well as we do. How long do you think they'll keep that information to themselves when the Wildlings are peeling their fingernails off? Mance has all he needs to crush us; he just doesn't know it yet." Jon's eyes flitted over the rest of the men. He raised his voice. "As soon as he gets his hands on them, he will. And then he'll throw his full strength at us. And even if every one of us kills a hundred Wildlings, there's still not a thing we can do to stop them!"

Caitie had never heard Jon sound so sure of himself—so… mature. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he delivered his speech, and she wasn't alone. He commanded the conversation, drawing every eye to him.

Even after he finished, no one said a word, simply processing everything he had told them. Caitie used the distraction to wipe her eyes and calm her emotions.

Everything else could wait, she told herself. She was alive. Jon was alive.

It was all going to be okay.

Finally, Pyp, who had perched himself next to Grenn, said shakily, "I don't think I can kill a hundred Wildlings."

The silence in the courtyard loomed over everyone as they took in the significance of the threat. To Caitie, it didn't feel real. She knew it would, in time, but how could it feel real when everything looked the exact same as it had before?

She felt safe here. And after everything, Caitie was glad for it. She'd had enough fear and sorrow to last a lifetime.

"Well," she said, trying to keep her teeth from chattering, "as much as I'd love to debate our survival odds against a horde of angry Wildlings, I could really use some food and bandages, first."

Everyone stared at her, some amused, some not. Pyp broke into a small grin. "Nice to see you've kept your chipper, at least."

Thorne, who was the least amused of everyone, ignored Pyp, growling, "Green boys. That's all you are."

Had Caitie been at her full strength, she would have told him she stopped being green the moment she'd sliced and burned dead children; the moment she'd watched black brothers murder each other.

The moment she'd murdered four of them, herself.

Thorne nodded to Jon and a few others and ordered, "Take them to Maester Aemon."

Hoisting her up again, Jon guided her along after the others. They stumbled up the steps to the walkways that ran across the second level of the castle, and into the corridor that would eventually lead to Maester Aemon.

Jon didn't leave her side the whole way there. He refused to allow any of the other brothers to help him support her weight—even Pyp, who rolled his eyes but didn't even try to argue—and he kept glancing at her nervously; why that was, Caitie didn't know. She'd already told him she was okay, albeit without words.

The two of them stayed at the back of the group, mainly because he had a more difficult time propping her up on his own. Caitie didn't exactly mind, but she wished he could go faster. Her stomach was eating itself—or at least that's how it felt—and her wrists were throbbing. Her vision had cleared, at least, but her head still ached. The sooner they got to Maester Aemon, the sooner all of this could be over.

Desperately needing a distraction, Caitie very nearly asked if Ghost was there. But not a second after the thought occurred did she decide against it. If he weren't at Castle Black, she didn't want to remind Jon. It had been his direwolf, after all.

Instead, Caitie asked softly, "Where's Sam?"

"Don't worry; he's here. He'll be waiting with Maester Aemon." Jon paused, and his lips quirked up slightly. "And he brought a friend."

She beamed. "Really?"

"Aye." He lowered his voice. "And her son. He says... he says he killed a White Walker on their way here."

"Seven Hells." Caitie laughed, adding yet another thing to her list of questions. "We have a lot to discuss."

"Aye, we do." Jon went silent for a minute as they ambled down the hall, frowning deeply, considering something. Then the frown disappeared, and he changed the subject. "You're all right?"

"My wrists hurt like hell, and I'm starving. And cold. And tired. Did I mention starving?"

"That isn't what I meant."

Before Caitie could give him the answer he desired, she heard a gasp.

"Gods be good!" Sam exclaimed from the end of the hall. "You're here!" He rushed over to them—giving Grenn and Edd smiles and nods as he went—and helped Jon prop her up.

"I thought you might be…" Sam trailed off, unable to say it.

"Dead?" Caitie supplied. "Not yet."

"Or worse," he whispered.

"Don't worry—I'm okay."

Sam looked so relieved, she thought he might start to cry. But all he did was shoot her a brilliant smile. "Welcome home, Kitty."

I hope I did Caitie and Jon's reunion justice. I've been waiting to get these two idiots back in the same vicinity for a while.