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Jon

           

           Hetookoffhiswetcloak,butitwastoocoldanddampheretostripdownanyfurther.Ghoststretchedoutbesidehimandlickedhisglovebeforecurlinguptosleep.Jonwasgratefulforhiswarmth.Hewonderedifthefirewasstillburningoutside,orifithadgoneoutbynow.IftheWallshouldeverfall,allthefireswillgoout.Themoonshonethroughthecurtainoffallingwatertolayashimmeringpalestripeacrossthesand,butafteratimethattoofadedandwentdark.

           Sleepcameatlast,andwithitnightmares.Hedreamedofburningcastlesanddeadmenrisingunquietfromtheirgraves.ItwasstilldarkwhenQhorinwokehim.WhiletheHalfhandslept,Jonsatwithhisbacktothecavewall,listeningtothewaterandwaitingforthedawn.

           Atbreakofday,theyeachchewedahalf-frozenstripofhorsemeat,thensaddledtheirgarronsonceagain,andfastenedtheirblackcloaksaroundtheirshoulders.DuringhiswatchtheHalfhandhadmadeahalf-dozentorches,soakingbundlesofdrymosswiththeoilhecarriedinhissaddlebag.Helitthefirstonenowandledthewaydownintothedark,holdingthepaleflameupbeforehim.Jonfollowedwiththehorses.Thestonypathtwistedandturned,firstdown,thenup,thendownmoresteeply.Inspotsitgrewsonarrowitwashardtoconvincethegarronstheycouldsqueezethrough.Bythetimewecomeoutwewillhavelostthem,hetoldhimselfastheywent.Notevenaneaglecanseethroughsolidstone.

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