He’d scoured the nearby regions of the Frostfangs for what seemed like
HOURS, in search of food enough to fill his belly for the remainder of the
night. He’d happened upon a rabbit as WHITE as the snow, blending in with
that surrounding him, yet Jon had a TRAINED eye. The wildlings had taught
him much, and that much, he had put to great use.
Pulling the spearhead from the animal’s gut still felt STRANGE to the former
crow, trained in the art of the sword. While Longclaw still remained sheathed
at his side at all times, he had found that hunting with a blade was much
more DIFFICULT than hunting with spears or bows. Many often asked the
turncloak as to WHY he had kept a blade gifted to him by the former Lord
Crow, yet Jon chose not to say. Perhaps, it was somewhat sentimental to
the highborn bastard – the Old Bear had never once treated him poorly
during his stint in the Night’s Watch. In fact, the two shared common
grounds – being betrayed by men they once thought to be brothers. This
wasn’t something Jon would ever speak freely to those around him, for
surely, they would heckle him, berate him, and quite possibly take his blade
by force.
A twig SNAPPED in the distance, just as Jon began securing his kill to his
leather belt. He poked his head out from beneath his hood, listening closely
for the source of the noise. He hadn’t invited others to hunt with him, and he
had high DOUBTS that anyone decided to follow in secret.
It HAD to be, for he knew their movements all too well. Shadowcats moved
just as silent as Ghost, and much like that of liquid smoke. The men of the
Watch were clumsy – especially rangers fresh from taking their vows.
Yet, what was it they sought after in the Frostfangs?
After securing his meal for the night at his hip, Jon put his spear across his
back. His gloved hands grabbed for Longclaw, unsheathing the blade as
he trekked through the snow.
The sound had come from precisely the southwestern regions, where a
forest stood tall to his back. His hand a victim to burning in his early days
at Castle Black clenched TIGHTLY at the hilt of his blade.
Though he would not ever admit it, even to himself, a part of him PRAYED
he would not have to KILL a crow, tonight.
titsay
gracieabrams
turnnoffyourmind
theartofmadeline
baratheonpilled
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
dailybridgerton
