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- Джордж Мартин
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Ghost
was
trotting
along
beside
Jon
’
s
horse
with
tail
held
high
,
his
white
fur
ruffed
-
up
thick
against
the
rain
.
He
moved
so
silently
Jon
could
not
have
said
just
when
he
appeared
.
Grenn
’
s
mount
shied
at
the
scent
of
him
;
even
now
,
after
more
than
a
year
,
the
horses
were
uneasy
in
the
presence
of
the
direwolf
.
"
With
me
,
Ghost
.
"
Jon
spurred
off
to
Craster
’
s
Keep
.
He
had
never
thought
to
find
a
stone
castle
on
the
far
side
of
the
Wall
,
but
he
had
pictured
some
sort
of
motte
-
and
-
bailey
with
a
wooden
palisade
and
a
timber
tower
keep
.
What
they
found
instead
was
a
midden
heap
,
a
pigsty
,
an
empty
sheepfold
,
and
a
windowless
daub
-
and
-
wattle
hall
scarce
worthy
of
the
name
.
It
was
long
and
low
,
chinked
together
from
logs
and
roofed
with
sod
.
The
compound
stood
atop
a
rise
too
modest
to
name
a
hill
,
surrounded
by
an
earthen
dike
.
Brown
rivulets
flowed
down
the
slope
where
the
rain
had
eaten
gaping
holes
in
the
defenses
,
to
join
a
rushing
brook
that
curved
around
to
the
north
,
its
thick
waters
turned
into
a
murky
torrent
by
the
rains
.
On
the
southwest
,
he
found
an
open
gate
flanked
by
a
pair
of
animal
skulls
on
high
poles
:
a
bear
to
one
side
,
a
ram
to
the
other
.
Bits
of
flesh
still
clung
to
the
bear
skull
,
Jon
noted
as
he
joined
the
line
riding
past
.
Within
,
Jarman
Buckwell
’
s
scouts
and
men
from
Thoren
Smallwood
’
s
van
were
setting
up
horse
lines
and
struggling
to
raise
tents
.
A
host
of
piglets
rooted
about
three
huge
sows
in
the
sty
.
Nearby
,
a
small
girl
pulled
carrots
from
a
garden
,
naked
in
the
rain
,
while
two
women
tied
a
pig
for
slaughter
.
The
animal
’
s
squeals
were
high
and
horrible
,
almost
human
in
their
distress
.
Chett
’
s
hounds
barked
wildly
in
answer
,
snarling
and
snapping
despite
his
curses
,
with
a
pair
of
Craster
’
s
dogs
barking
back
.
When
they
saw
Ghost
,
some
of
the
dogs
broke
off
and
ran
,
while
others
began
to
bay
and
growl
.
The
direwolf
ignored
them
,
as
did
Jon
.
Well
,
thirty
of
us
will
be
warm
and
dry
,
Jon
thought
once
he
’
d
gotten
a
good
look
at
the
hall
.
Perhaps
as
many
as
fifty
.
The
place
was
much
too
small
to
sleep
two
hundred
men
,
so
most
would
need
to
remain
outside
.
And
where
to
put
them
?
The
rain
had
turned
half
the
compound
yard
to
ankle
-
deep
puddles
and
the
rest
to
sucking
mud
.
Another
dismal
night
was
in
prospect
.
The
Lord
Commander
had
entrusted
his
mount
to
Dolorous
Edd
.
He
was
cleaning
mud
out
of
the
horse
’
s
hooves
as
Jon
dismounted
.
"
Lord
Mormont
’
s
in
the
hall
,
"
he
announced
.
"
He
said
for
you
to
join
him
.
Best
leave
the
wolf
outside
,
he
looks
hungry
enough
to
eat
one
of
Craster
’
s
children
.
Well
,
truth
be
told
,
I
’
m
hungry
enough
to
eat
one
of
Craster
’
s
children
,
so
long
as
he
was
served
hot
.
Go
on
,
I
’
ll
see
to
your
horse
.
If
it
’
s
warm
and
dry
inside
,
don
’
t
tell
me
,
I
wasn
’
t
asked
in
.
"
He
flicked
a
glob
of
wet
mud
out
from
under
a
horseshoe
.
"
Does
this
mud
look
like
shit
to
you
?
Could
it
be
that
this
whole
hill
is
made
of
Craster
’
s
shit
?
"
Jon
smiled
.
"
Well
,
I
hear
he
’
s
been
here
a
long
time
.
"
"
You
cheer
me
not
.
Go
see
the
Old
Bear
.
"
"
Ghost
,
stay
,
"
he
commanded
.
