They were getting closer to the Frostfangs when, late one evening, Ygritte pointed them toward a cave to spend the night; blissful relief from the icy wind which had engulfed them all day. The cave wasn't dissimilar to the one which led to their first coupling, minus hot springs in which to bathe.
Eventually, they had a fire burning. The orange flames warmed the dark cave, light bouncing from the walls, a cosy atmosphere settled in. Ghost provided them with another rabbit to cook, which Ygritte skilfully skinned and placed on their makeshift spit. Once the direwolf had deposited their meal, he stole off into the night, presumably to hunt for himself, Jon thought.
Their earlier conversation made Jon's position clear; nothing would ever happen between them. Ygritte took the hint, laying on the opposite side of the fire to sleep. He watched her fall asleep, her bright hair, kissed by fire, covering the ground. Did Jon want to couple with Ygritte? He'd enjoyed their time together, when he'd been a greenboy, now he was a man. He wanted more than a tumble in a cave, despite the romance of it.
Jon could admit he'd loved Ygritte once, and she would always have a special place in his heart, but he'd moved on, his heart lie elsewhere, although he wasn't sure who with, Daenerys or Sansa?
Jon thought about the three women in his life, comparing them to one another. The most obvious similarity between Ygritte and Sansa was the hair colour, kissed by fire, but the colour was where it stopped. Ygritte's hair was like a rats-nest, whereas Sansa's was soft and always perfectly groomed. She shared a passion for righteousness with Daenerys and a willingness to fight. Where once he'd found Ygritte's wild appearance and warrior-like attitude endearing, Jon found it lacking compared to the other two women. In their own ways, Sansa and Daenerys were warriors.
All three women carried a weapon which was dangerous, Ygritte a bow, Daenerys had dragons, and Sansa had her tongue, the deadliest of them all. Jon preferred the ladylike demeanour of Sansa and Daenerys, their hair always immaculate, they always smelled good. An unfortunate consequence of living in the wilderness was unpleasant body odour, from lack of bathing. In conclusion, he found it difficult to decide between Sansa and Daenerys as Ygritte became a distant memory of love.
Unfortunately, Jon knew the same was happening with Daenerys. How he felt about Sansa, he'd yet to reconcile. Was he still her brother? Her cousin? Or could he become her lover? He was too tired to think. The dancing flames were making him drowsy, and sleep beckoned.
When he closed his eyes, he dreamt he was outside, running freely through the mountains on all fours. Despite the ice cold wind which blew, he wasn't cold; the breeze felt refreshing on his face. When he finally stopped, his white paws sunk deep into the moonlit snow, looking over the edge of a precipice. The bright moon shone bright in the sky, lighting up the Skirling Pass in shades of black, white, and grey, cold, silent and empty. He spotted a vast river of ice several thousand feet high, falling down the cliff and into a what could only be a deep black lake.
Down in the valley, he saw fires, lots of fires. There were men in their thousands, a vast host. Jon knew it was Mance Rayder's camp. He'd seen it before. In typical Freefolk fashion, their encampment haphazard. Everywhere a variety of shelters and hide tents sprouted from the glistening snow. The animals missing from the villages were here, of that Jon could be certain of, for the smell of sheep, horse, dogs and pig shit filled his over-sensitive nostrils. The smell of smoke and cooking food rising from the masses of cookfires should have appealed to him, but he liked his meat raw and bloody.
The morning sun was rising in the east, turning the sky various shades of pinks and oranges. The icy lake was no longer black, but reflecting the colours cast from above. In the distance, Jon could see more shapes emerging from their slumber; mammoths and giants rose from the ground, waking in the morning sun.
A sudden cold gust of wind made his fur stand up on end, as did the sound of flapping wings above him. He lifted his eyes to the early morning skies, a dark shadow plummeted toward him. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed yellow talons, and blue-grey wings spread wide, blocking the sun... Then he felt the pain.
Jon sat up with a start. "Ghost!" His head filled with wings, talons, and blinding pain. "Ghost, to me!"
"What's the matter?" Ygritte asked.
"A dream," said Jon. "I was Ghost. I stood on the edge of the mountain looking down upon a frozen river. It attacked me. A bird … an eagle, I think …" he shook his head. "It was just a dream." he knew it wasn't. Wolf dreams had been part of his life for so long, he'd become accustomed to them. Many an occasion he woke to the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He'd never asked his siblings if they'd experienced the same dreams as they'd either died young or had parted from their direwolves too soon. When he returned to Queenscrown, he'd ask Sansa or Arya.
The eagle belonged to Orell; he remembered. Jon had forgotten about the eagle attacking Ghost. So many minor details he'd forgotten, playing out in different ways. The outcome remained the same. He hoped that wouldn't be the case for the rest of his family.
Ygritte brushed the dirt from her furs. "A wolf dream. Are you a warg, Jon Snow?" she looked at him apprehensively.
Jon wouldn't answer that question. Wolf dreams were part of his life for so long, he'd grown accustomed to them. Many an occasion he woke to the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He'd never asked his siblings if they'd experienced the same dreams as they'd either died young or been parted from their direwolves too soon. When he returned to Queenscrown, he'd ask.
"Orell's eagle hurt Ghost." Jon said. "I need to find him and clean him up."
"A warg with the sight... Mance will be interested..."
"I need to find Ghost. Orell was watching us with his eagle and he attacked Ghost. He's hurt."
Ygritte blanched at the mention of Orell. "How do you know about Orell's eagle?"
Jon ignored her. He was worried about Ghost. "Hands!" Ygritte held out her hands; Jon bound them in the rope, tying them tight. "C'mon, move, I need to find Ghost and treat his wounds."
Jon was tired, and in pain with his neck where the eagle had attacked Ghost. It would fade, he thought. At least I had the foresight to bring wine to treat his wounds.
"I've never heard of people who have the sight knowing names."
"You haven't met many with the sight."
"I've met plenty." Ygritte said.
Jon yanked on the rope and turned Ygritte around to face him. "When I find Ghost, he'll be able to lead me to Mance's camp. "
They set off, trudging their way through the snow and ice. The pain had eased off, although he knew Ghost's wounds would still need tending to. Jon thought back to Orell and his eagle. This was the creature which had given him the vicious scar above his eye, almost blinding him in its attack. Even before the attack, he and Orell disliked one another. However, he couldn't blame the man. Orell was rightly suspicious of Jon and was in love with Ygritte.
Jon had proven Orell to be correct. He betrayed the Freefolk, but Jon's love for Ygritte had been genuine, or so he thought. He wondered how Orell would behave towards Jon if Ygritte wasn't a factor. Skinchangers were useful, especially against the Night King's army. Jon didn't want to waste a person with those talents if he could help it. To work with an enemy for a united cause, was Jon's speciality. Despite Ghost's injuries, he'd try to befriend the man if necessary.
A flash of white between two boulders attracted Jon's attention, especially when he saw it stir. "Ghost." he called out to the direwolf, rushing towards the beast with Ygritte in tow. Jon dropped to his knees, and Ghost lifted his head. He revealed his neck, where the talons had torn through his fur and into his flesh. The wound was bright red and bloody. Like his eyes, it glistened against his white fur, like the contrast of a weirwood.
"It looks bad." Ygritte said, as Ghost struggled to his feet.
"He'll be alright, we just need to clean the wound." he pulled out a skin of water and poured it over the gash, washing away the blood caked over the direwolf's fur. Next, Jon retrieved the wine he'd brought with him. "Pour that over the wound. It's best I hold him. He might hurt you."
Ygritte held out her hands. "You'll need to untie me first. I promise I won't run."
Jon huffed and released her from her binds. Ygritte did as instructed, pouring the wine over the wound and rubbing it into the fur. Ghost struggled, baring his teeth with pain; Jon wrapped his arms around his head, distracting the wolf with soothing words, calming the poor creature.
They ripped a strip from Jon's cloak, wrapping it around the wounds. Once finished, Jon stood and tied Ygritte up. Ghost shook his body, relieving the stress of the ordeal and getting comfortable with his wrappings.
Once again, they trekked in the snow. "Ghost, come to me, boy." he called, and the direwolf followed. He would have been barely visible if it hadn't been for the black wrappings he wore.
They continued their way along the twisting pass and through the stretches of broken ground. The wind grew stronger, slowing their pace as they tried to push against it. Jon frequently glanced up to the sky, searching for the eagle who spied upon them. Sometimes, he was sure he saw a dark shadow above, but quickly as it appeared, it vanished.
"Orell's eagle is following us." Jon said.
They descended the mountain path. "So what? I thought you wanted to meet Mance."
"I.." he said; however, the sound of a hunting horn blowing interrupted him. Jon stopped walking and stared at Ygritte. "Your friends?" he asked.
Ygritte smiled. "I hope so."
Again, the hunting horn was sounded, echoing through the mountains. Moments later, Jon heard the baying of hounds. "They won't be long now, Jon Snow."
"Ghost, to me," Jon called. The direwolf reluctantly padded toward his side. The wildlings approached on horseback from a ridge half a mile in the distance.
Their hounds were ahead of them, snarling beasts with more than a little wolf in them. Ghost bared his teeth at his opponents, his fur bristling. "Easy, Ghost." Jon murmured. "Stay."
Overhead, a rustle of wings told him the eagle was nearby. The hunters approached with an air of confidence. Unlike when he was caught with Qhorin Halfhand, here he was on the open pass; their tracks suggesting only two of them were in the party. Jon was concerned for Benjen and the rest of the group who followed, but he'd deal with that later.
As they neared, Jon counted fourteen men and eight dogs. The large round shields they carried with them, were made of skins stretched over woven wicker. Their faces were hidden behind helms of wood and boiled leather. Most of them were armed with spears and mauls, although four of them carried bows, nocked and aimed at Jon and Ygritte. When they saw the wildling woman bound in ropes, they dropped their bows.
Ten yards behind, the leader of the group approached, someone who Jon recognised. With every step, the man clattered, for his furs were armoured in bones of various creatures; cow, sheep, aurochs and elk, the large bones of mammoths and human bones. The watch called the man Rattleshirt, however; he preferred to go by a different name. "Lord o' Bones. My name is Jon Snow. I've been expecting you."
"Have you now? What's a pretty crow wanting from me?" Rattleshirt asked.
"I'm here to talk to Mance. I've a proposition for him. One he can't refuse."
Rattleshirt looked around to his fellow wildlings. "Ha, I doubt that. Mance is not here,"
"Then take me to him." Jon said.
"Why should I take a pretty crow to Mance? Maybe he has lots of crows with him, waiting to kill us all. And a wolf." Rattleshirt looked down at Ghost. "Is that your wolf?"
"Aye, he belongs to me."
"Jon Snow is the bastard of Winterfell." Ygritte said.
Rattleshirt looked somewhat interested. "Is that right, boy?"
"Lord Stark sent me to talk with Mance Rayder."
"Bastard Lord or not, he's still a crow, and we need to flush the crows, feather him!" Rattleshirt ordered.
"He's a warg, and a seer." said Ygritte. "He's got information about the walkers."
"A warg, you say? A warg, and a crow. I like him not."
"A warg he may be," Ygritte said, "but that has never frightened us before."
"I'm not a crow. I was sent by the Warden of the North to speak with Mance."
"Mance will want to meet him." Ygritte insisted.
Jon decided a show of faith was needed. He removed the dirk from his sword belt and cut the rope that bound Ygritte's hands together.
"Do you still vouch for this Jon Snow, Ygritte?" Rattleshirt asked Ygritte.
"Like I said, he knows things he shouldn't. He can help."
"I'll let him live. Tie him up, we'll take him to Mance."
"What of my men?" Jon asked. "There's four of them, about a mile behind us."
"Are they crows?" Rattleshirt asked.
"Only one, my uncle, Benjen Stark. We needed a ranger to find Mance. The others are my own men, here to offer as hostages should our talks prove fruitful." Jon hated himself. He hadn't told his men why he'd brought them with him, and they were his friends. However, Jon trusted Mance would be amenable and Jon's friends would be safe.
"We'll wait for them, Lord Snow. We'll take them to Mance, if he doesn't like you, he'll kill you all. Are you sure you want to wait for your friends?" Rattleshirt asked.
Jon nodded his head. "I trust Mance to do what is right."
"The crows fly, I'll boil your bones as well," Rattleshirt warned the guards, as they set out, smiling through the giant skull he wore.
"You want to guard him? If you want us to do it, leave us be and we'll do it." Ygritte said.
The wildling gave him an unfriendly stare. "Might be you fooled these others, crow, but don't think you'll be fooling Mance. He'll take one look at you and know you're false; and when he does, I'll make a cloak o' your wolf there, and open your soft boy's belly and sew a weasel up inside."
The men took four hours to catch up with Jon, Ygritte and the rest of the Freefolk. By then the world had turned to grey darkness, and the cold night had set in. Instead of stopping, like he and Ygritte did, they continued on, riding some way into the night.
The Lord of Bones made guards of Ygritte, who rode behind him, and a man in front, whose name, Jon recalled, was Longspear Ryk, while the rest of his men were chaperoned by the other Freefolk, all except Rattleshirt.
"The crows fly, I'll boil your bones as well," Rattleshirt warned the guards, as they set out, smiling through the giant skull he wore.
"You want to guard him? If you want us to do it, leave us be and we'll do it." Ygritte said.
The wildling gave him an unfriendly stare. "Might be you fooled these others, crow, but don't think you'll be fooling Mance. He'll take one look at you and know you're false; and when he does, I'll make a cloak o' your wolf there, and open your soft boy's belly and sew a weasel up inside."
"Untie me and say that. I've faced men who are bigger than you, and better. What would happen to that title of yours, and your bones? Do you want me to boil them or burn them?" Jon's sword hand flexing beneath the glove, itching for Longclaw.
"Jon." came Benjen's voice from behind, a warning not to escalate matters. Jon backed down and kept silent, while Rattleshirt looked on with a smug face.
Jon backed down from the fight, one he couldn't win if he wanted to talk to Mance. Instead, he turned his head toward Benjen and simply nodded in acknowledgement as they continued their descent.
The journey took far longer and via a different route; because the encounter with the Lord o' Bones occurred at different time and place. In his previous life, Jon had separated from Ygritte and met the Lord o' Bones in a cave closer to the wall. Jon allowed Ygritte to escape. He killed Qhorin Halfhand and allowed himself to be captured by the Freefolk. He'd forgotten how long it took to find Mance's camp, but Jon was certain it was less than a moon. Jon wondered how long had he been north of the wall.
"How long since the comet appeared?" Jon asked, when he saw a faint orange glow in the distant night sky.
"Three moons, boy." Rattleshirt said. "Why d'ya ask?"
"No reason." Jon replied. It was a lie. He was missing his family, he was missing Sansa.
That night, like every other since he'd been taken by Rattleshirt, he dreamed of Sansa in their chambers in Queenscrown. Not the young girl he left, but the woman she would become upon his return. Her long red hair cascading down her back, dripping wet as if she'd got out of the bath. Sansa's bright blue eyes, piercing his very soul as she approached him.
The robe blue silk robe she wore was wet, as if she hadn't had time to dry herself before putting it on. The material stuck to her skin, outlining the shape of her breasts and her nipples, hardened from the cold, despite the orange hue from the fire casting its warm glow upon them. Sansa would stare at him with longing before turning her back on him.
"I've arranged for you to sleep in the solar." Sansa said, turning her back on him.
"Sansa?"
The words, "I want you to leave!" bristled the hairs on his neck. The voice was not Sansa's, nor was the person in front of him. Sansa morphed into Lady Catelyn and turned to face him. "You are not worthy of my daughter, dragonspawn." Jon woke, his heart racing fast, rivulets of sweat adorned his brow.
Benjen touched Jon on the arm. "What's the matter, Jon? You alright, lad?"
Jon nodded. "Just an awful dream. I'm missing Sansa."
"I can pretend to be Sansa, if yer like." Ygritte offered.
"Ygritte, I told you before, no."
Benjen laughed. "If he so much as looks at another lass, I'll have his guts for garters. That Milkwater will turn pink."
"Why do you care, crow?" Ygritte asked.
"Sansa is my niece." Benjen said.
Jon waited for the penny to drop. "But I thought you were Jon Snow's uncle."
"Aye, that I am." Benjen nodded.
"So crow, how can you be Jon Snow's uncle as well? Unless she's your.." she turned to Jon. "Is your wife your cousin? Or is she your sister?"
"She's my cousin on my mother's side."
Ygritte curled her lip. "That's disgusting. We don't take cousins as husbands and wives. We don't even take from the same village if we can help it. It makes rotten blood."
"Where we come from, cousin marriage is normal, especially among the highborn. In some families, they even wed brother and sister." Jon told her.
"Brother and sister lie with one another? It's not right." Ygritte said, her face grimacing with disgust. "Do they have webbed hands and feet? I've heard it makes people go mad."
Jon peeled the gloved from his hands and wriggled his fingers. "My hands and feet are perfectly normal."
"We should get some sleep." Benjen said. "Judging by the orange glow in the skies, I reckon we're getting close to Mance's camp."
Ygritte laid her head back down. "Aye, we should be there by tomorrow. Goodnight, Jon Snow."
Jon closed his eyes. "Goodnight." he said.