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The
long
low
note
lingered
at
the
edge
of
hearing
.
The
sentries
at
the
ringwall
stood
still
in
their
footsteps
,
breath
frosting
and
heads
turned
toward
the
west
.
As
the
sound
of
the
horn
faded
,
even
the
wind
ceased
to
blow
.
Men
rolled
from
their
blankets
and
reached
for
spears
and
swordbelts
,
moving
quietly
,
listening
.
A
horse
whickered
and
was
hushed
.
For
a
heartbeat
it
seemed
as
if
the
whole
forest
were
holding
its
breath
.
The
brothers
of
the
Night
’
s
Watch
waited
for
a
second
blast
,
praying
they
should
not
hear
it
,
fearing
that
they
would
.
When
the
silence
had
stretched
unbearably
long
and
the
men
knew
at
last
that
the
horn
would
not
wind
again
,
they
grinned
at
one
another
sheepishly
,
as
if
to
deny
that
they
had
been
anxious
.
Jon
Snow
fed
a
few
sticks
to
the
fire
,
buckled
on
his
swordbelt
,
pulled
on
his
boots
,
shook
the
dirt
and
dew
from
the
cloak
,
and
fastened
it
around
his
shoulders
.
The
flames
blazed
up
beside
him
,
welcome
heat
beating
against
his
face
as
he
dressed
.
He
could
hear
the
Lord
Commander
moving
inside
the
tent
.
After
a
moment
Mormont
lifted
the
flap
.
"
One
blast
?
"
On
his
shoulder
,
his
raven
sat
fluffed
and
silent
,
looking
miserable
.
"
One
,
my
lord
,
"
Jon
agreed
.
"
Brothers
returning
.
"
Mormont
moved
to
the
fire
.
"
The
Halfhand
.
And
past
time
.
"
He
had
grown
more
restive
every
day
they
waited
;
much
longer
and
he
would
have
been
fit
to
whelp
cubs
.
"
See
that
there
’
s
hot
food
for
the
men
and
fodder
for
the
horses
.
I
’
ll
see
Qhorin
at
once
.
"
"
I
’
ll
bring
him
,
my
lord
.
"
The
men
from
the
Shadow
Tower
had
been
expected
days
ago
.
When
they
had
not
appeared
,
the
brothers
had
begun
to
wonder
.
Jon
had
heard
gloomy
mutterings
around
the
cookfire
,
and
not
just
from
Dolorous
Edd
.
Ser
Ottyn
Wythers
was
for
retreating
to
Castle
Black
as
soon
as
possible
.
Ser
Mallador
Locke
would
strike
for
the
Shadow
Tower
,
hoping
to
pick
up
Qhorin
’
s
trail
and
learn
what
had
befallen
him
.
And
Thoren
Smallwood
wanted
to
push
on
into
the
mountains
.
"
Mance
Rayder
knows
he
must
battle
the
Watch
,
"
Thoren
had
declared
,
"
but
he
will
never
look
for
us
so
far
north
.
If
we
ride
up
the
Milkwater
,
we
can
take
him
unawares
and
cut
his
host
to
ribbons
before
he
knows
we
are
on
him
.
"
"
The
numbers
would
be
greatly
against
us
,
"
Ser
Ottyn
had
objected
.
"
Craster
said
he
was
gathering
a
great
host
.
Many
thousands
.
Without
Qhorin
,
we
are
only
two
hundred
.
"
"
Send
two
hundred
wolves
against
ten
thousand
sheep
,
ser
,
and
see
what
happens
,
"
said
Smallwood
confidently
.
"
There
are
goats
among
these
sheep
,
Thoren
,
"
warned
Jarman
Buckwell
.
"
Aye
,
and
maybe
a
few
lions
.
Rattleshirt
,
Harma
the
Dogshead
,
Alfyn
Crowkiller
.
.
.
"
"
I
know
them
as
well
as
you
do
,
Buckwell
,
"
Thoren
Smallwood
snapped
back
.
