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Jon

           Oneofthearcherspulledoffhersewnsheepskinhelmandshookoutaheadofshaggyredhair."ThisistheBastardo’Winterfell,whosparedme.Lethimlive."

           JonmetYgritte’seyes,andhadnowords.

           "Lethimdie,"insistedtheLordofBones."Theblackcrowisatricksybird.Itrusthimnot."

           Onarockabovethem,theeagleflappeditswingsandsplittheairwithascreamoffury.

           "Thebirdhatesyou,JonSnow,"saidYgritte."Andwellhemight.Hewasaman,beforeyoukilledhim."

           "Ididnotknow,"saidJontruthfully,tryingtorememberthefaceofthemanhehadslaininthepass."YoutoldmeMancewouldtakeme."

           "Andhewill,"Ygrittesaid.

           "Manceisnothere,"saidRattleshirt."Ragwyle,guthim."

           Thebigspearwifenarrowedhereyesandsaid,"Ifthecrowwouldjointhefreefolk,lethimshowushisprowessandprovethetruthofhim."

           "I’lldowhateveryouask."Thewordscamehard,butJonsaidthem.

           Rattleshirt’sbonearmorclatteredloudlyashelaughed."ThenkilltheHalfhand,bastard."

           "Asifhecould,"saidQhorin."Turn,Snow,anddie."

           AndthenQhorin’sswordwascomingathimandsomehowLongclawleaptupwardtoblock.TheforceofimpactalmostknockedthebastardbladefromJon’shand,andsenthimstaggeringbackward.

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