It seemed with each day that passed that there would be no end to the stragglers come to the Wall, half-alive with empty bellies and hearts filled with a dying hope. North or south they came, often alone, though at times they were in pairs or even more and they would look upon the Lord Commander’s face and know that there would be no salvation here. Another mouth to feed. Another body for him to protect and what choice did he have but to send them to Mole’s Town to join the others who numbered near the thousands now, all desperate for relief that he was unable to provide.
And today.
Today there came another.
A sworn brother burst through his solar doors, sweat dripping from his brows that was like to chill him if the boy lacked sense enough to remain within and his breath ragged as though he’d run down the length of the Wall. Then Jon heard the news and he understood. He should have known better. Not after Alys Karstark and the hope that’d fluttered in his chest like a bird in flight until its wings had been clipped the moment his eyes had lain upon that girl and that same hope had plummeted as dead weight to the ground.
But he was quick enough to journey to the gate, taking the steps two at a time. The crowd parted at once upon his arrival and there across the distance, Jon stared down at a still living ghost. “Bran.” His breath was a white wisp that curled in the cold. He took one halting step forward followed by another until he was hurrying across the snow and dropped to his knees before the boy. “I thought you dead. They’d all said you were dead and I believed even when the dreams…” He swallowed thickly, a shaky smile making him appear years younger. Years closer to his true age. “I dreamt I saw you as a tree. If you’re alive then… what of Rickon?” // @wiingedwolf ♥’d