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Jon

           Ghostbaredhisteeth,hisfurbristling."Easy,"Jonmurmured."Stay."Overheadheheardarustleofwings.Theeaglelandedonanoutcropofrockandscreamedintriumph.

           Thehuntersapproachedwarily,perhapsfearingarrows.Joncountedfourteen,witheightdogs.Theirlargeroundshieldsweremadeofskinsstretchedoverwovenwickerandpaintedwithskulls.Abouthalfofthemhidtheirfacesbehindcrudehelmsofwoodandboiledleather.Oneitherwing,archersnotchedshaftstothestringsofsmallwood-and-hornbows,butdidnotloose.Therestseemedtobearmedwithspearsandmauls.Onehadachippedstoneaxe.Theyworeonlywhatbitsofarmortheyhadlootedfromdeadrangersorstolenduringraids.Wildlingsdidnotmineorsmelt,andtherewerefewsmithsandfewerforgesnorthoftheWall.

           Qhorindrewhislongsword.Thetaleofhowhehadtaughthimselftofightwithhislefthandafterlosinghalfofhisrightwaspartofhislegend;itwassaidthathehandledabladebetternowthanheeverhadbefore.JonstoodshouldertoshoulderwiththebigrangerandpulledLongclawfromitssheath.Despitethechillintheair,sweatstunghiseyes.

           Tenyardsbelowthecavemouththehuntershalted.Theirleadercameonalone,ridingabeastthatseemedmoregoatthanhorse,fromthesurefootedwayitclimbedtheunevenslope.AsmanandmountgrewnearerJoncouldhearthemclattering;bothwerearmoredinbones.

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