The wind howled softly through the dense thicket of pines as Jon tightened his grip on Longclaw, his eyes scanning the eerie forest ahead. The snow muffled their steps, but the silence was unnerving. Even Ghost moved cautiously, his ears swiveling to every creak of the trees.
Katrina walked beside him, Dream curled in the crook of her arm. The black cat seemed utterly unbothered by the cold or the tension, her green eyes fixed on something distant, something only she could see.
"You're sure this is the right way?" Jon asked, his voice low.
"No," Katrina said bluntly, not even glancing at him. "But staying in one place is a good way to get killed. Or frozen. Take your pick."
Jon sighed but didn't argue. She was right, as usual. The ruins of the hall they'd barely escaped from were far behind them, but the sense of being hunted hadn't left. The wights weren't the kind to simply give up, and Jon couldn't shake the feeling that something else was out there, watching.
Dream let out a low, rumbling purr, breaking the silence. Katrina glanced down at the cat, her expression softening in a way Jon hadn't seen before.
"What's she doing?" he asked.
"She does this sometimes," Katrina replied. "Like she knows something I don't."
Jon frowned. "You think she's… leading us?"
Katrina smirked. "What, you think Dream's got some magical connection to the gods? She's just a cat, Snow."
"Just a cat," Jon repeated, his tone skeptical. He glanced at Ghost, who was staring at Dream with what looked like curiosity—or perhaps concern.
Before Jon could press further, Dream suddenly wriggled out of Katrina's arms, landing gracefully in the snow. She took a few steps forward, her tail flicking as she looked back at them and let out a sharp meow.
Katrina tilted her head. "See? Told you. She's got a mind of her own."
"She wants us to follow," Jon said, stepping toward the cat.
"Or she's leading us into a trap," Katrina muttered, but she moved after Dream anyway.
The cat weaved through the trees with surprising speed, pausing every so often to glance back and make sure they were still following. Ghost trotted ahead, his white fur blending with the snow, but even he seemed content to let Dream take the lead.
The forest grew denser, the trees pressing in on all sides. The silence deepened, broken only by the crunch of their footsteps and the occasional rustle of branches overhead. Jon's unease grew with every step. The air felt heavier here, as though the forest itself was alive and aware of their presence.
Finally, Dream stopped, sitting delicately in a small clearing. She stared intently at a snowdrift near the base of a massive pine tree, her tail swishing back and forth.
"What is it?" Katrina asked, crouching beside the cat.
Jon stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. At first, he saw nothing but snow and branches. Then he noticed the faint outline of something buried beneath the drift. Metal, glinting faintly in the pale light.
"Help me dig," he said, dropping to his knees.
Katrina joined him, her movements swift despite her injuries. Together, they unearthed a small, rusted chest, its hinges caked with frost. Dream hopped onto the chest and sat there, as though guarding it.
"Well," Katrina said, brushing snow from her hands. "Guess she's not 'just a cat,' is she?"
Jon ignored her and pried open the chest. Inside was a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. He pulled it out carefully, unwrapping it to reveal a small, intricately carved wooden box. It was old, the kind of craftsmanship that belonged to another time. The carvings depicted weirwood trees and direwolves, their forms almost alive against the smooth surface.
"What is this?" Katrina asked, leaning closer.
Jon opened the box. Inside was a single object: a shard of obsidian, black as night, wrapped in a strip of faded leather. Carved into the leather was a symbol Jon didn't recognize—a circle with jagged lines radiating outward, like a sunburst.
"Dragonglass," Jon said, his voice low.
"Dragonglass doesn't explain this," Katrina said, pointing to the symbol. "This isn't Wildling work, or Night's Watch. It's… something else."
Jon felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. He looked up at Katrina, her golden eyes locked on the shard. "It's a warning," he said. "Or a weapon."
"Against what?" she asked.
Jon didn't answer. He didn't need to. The answer was already there, in the back of his mind, as clear as the snow beneath their feet.
The dead.
Dream let out another soft purr, as though she understood more than either of them. Katrina picked her up again, holding her close as she stared at the obsidian shard.
"Well," she said after a long moment, her voice lighter than the tension warranted. "Looks like your little crow quest just got a whole lot more interesting."
Jon stared at the shard, his mind racing. Whatever this was, it was important. He just didn't know how much yet.
"Come on," he said, closing the box and tucking it into his cloak. "We need to keep moving."
Katrina nodded, but her gaze lingered on the spot where the chest had been. As they left the clearing, Dream nestled in her arms, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that the forest had been waiting for them. And now that they had taken its gift, the true danger was only beginning.
The sky had darkened to an inky black by the time Jon and Katrina found a place to rest. They'd been moving for hours, the chill sinking deeper into their bones as the forest seemed to close in around them. Ghost scouted ahead, his pale form blending with the snow, while Dream perched on Katrina's shoulder, her green eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"Here," Jon said, motioning toward the hollowed-out trunk of a massive fallen tree. It was wide enough to provide some shelter from the cold and hidden enough to keep them out of sight.
Katrina nodded, wincing as she lowered herself onto a patch of dry moss inside. She pressed a hand to her injured side, her breath hitching. "It's not the worst place I've slept."
Jon frowned, kneeling beside her. "Let me see."
"I'm fine," she muttered, but Jon was already untying the makeshift bandage.
The gash along her side was deep, the skin around it red and swollen. Jon grimaced. "It's infected. We need to clean it."
"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Katrina asked, raising an eyebrow. "Got a healer hidden in your cloak?"
Jon ignored her sarcasm and pulled a flask of water from his pack. "This will have to do for now."
She hissed as he poured the cold water over the wound, her fingers digging into the moss beneath her. Dream hopped down from her shoulder, curling up beside her as if offering comfort.
"You're good at this," Katrina said after a moment, her voice softer than usual.
"I've had practice," Jon replied, wrapping a clean strip of cloth around her waist. "The Night's Watch doesn't exactly coddle its brothers."
Katrina studied him, her golden eyes thoughtful. "You don't talk about them much. Your brothers."
Jon hesitated, tying off the bandage before sitting back on his heels. "There's not much to say. They're… loyal. Fierce. But it's not the same as having a real family."
Her gaze softened, and for a moment, the biting edge she usually carried was gone. "I know what that's like."
Silence fell between them, heavy and uneasy. The forest outside was eerily still, the usual sounds of wildlife absent. Jon stared into the darkness, his hand resting on Longclaw.
"There's something wrong with this place," he said quietly.
Katrina nodded, pulling her cloak tighter around her. "It feels…off. Like the air's too thick. You feel it too?"
Jon glanced at Ghost, who was pacing near the edge of the hollow, his ears pinned back. Dream sat up suddenly, her eyes fixed on the darkness beyond. She let out a low, throaty meow, her tail twitching.
"Katrina," Jon said, his voice tense. "She sees something."
Katrina frowned, looking between the cat and the forest. "What is it, Dream?"
As if in response, a faint whisper echoed through the trees. It was barely audible, more like the rustling of leaves, but it made the hair on the back of Jon's neck stand on end. He rose to his feet, Longclaw already in his hand.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
Katrina nodded, her expression grim. "It's not the wind."
The whisper came again, closer this time, a fragmented sound that seemed to twist and bend in the air. Jon moved to the edge of the hollow, his eyes scanning the darkness. Ghost growled low in his throat, his body tense.
"Katrina, stay here," Jon said, stepping forward.
"Like hell I will," she shot back, grabbing her spear and standing despite the pain in her side. "If something's out there, I'm not letting you face it alone."
Jon didn't argue. There was no time. The whispers grew louder, rising and falling like a haunting melody. Then, without warning, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It wasn't a wight. It was a man—or at least, it had been. His skin was pale and stretched tight over his bones, his eyes sunken and hollow. He moved with an unnatural grace, his head cocked at an odd angle as if listening to something only he could hear.
"Who are you?" Jon demanded, raising Longclaw.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he smiled—a slow, eerie expression that sent a chill down Jon's spine. His lips parted, and the whispers filled the air again, but this time, they formed words.
"The North remembers," the man said, his voice a chorus of different tones. "Blood calls to blood."
Jon stepped forward, positioning himself between the man and Katrina. "What do you want?"
The man's gaze shifted to Katrina, his smile widening. "The shadow walks with her. The fire burns within."
Katrina stiffened, her grip on her spear tightening. "What are you talking about?"
"The cat," the man said, pointing at Dream. "It follows the fire. It watches the shadow. It will betray you."
Dream hissed, her fur bristling as she leapt to Katrina's shoulder. The man tilted his head, his expression almost amused.
Jon's patience snapped. "Enough!" he growled, stepping closer. "If you mean to harm us, you'll regret it."
The man laughed—a hollow, echoing sound that seemed to reverberate through the forest. "The blade will not save you, crow. The blade will bring you ruin."
Before Jon could react, the man dissolved into shadow, his laughter fading into the night. The forest fell silent once more, but the air remained heavy, charged with unseen danger.
"What the hell was that?" Katrina asked, her voice shaking.
Jon didn't have an answer. He turned to Ghost, who was still growling softly, and then to Dream, who stared into the darkness as if searching for something.
"Whatever it was," Jon said, his voice grim, "it's not over."
Katrina nodded, her golden eyes flickering with unease. "Then we'd better be ready."
As they settled back into the hollow, neither of them slept. The whispers lingered in the back of Jon's mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just glimpsed a shadow of something far more dangerous than wights.