Jon

           Theycouldseethefireinthenight,glimmeringagainstthesideofthemountainlikeafallenstar.Itburnedredderthantheotherstars,anddidnottwinkle,thoughsometimesitflaredupbrightandsometimesdwindleddowntonomorethanadistantspark,dullandfaint.

           Halfamileaheadandtwothousandfeetup,Jonjudged,andperfectlyplacedtoseeanythingmovinginthepassbelow.

           "WatchersintheSkirlingPass,"wonderedtheoldestamongthem.Inthespringofhisyouth,hehadbeensquiretoaking,sotheblackbrothersstillcalledhimSquireDalbridge."WhatisitManceRayderfears,Iwonder?"

           "Ifheknewthey’dlitafire,he’dflaythepoorbastards,"saidEbben,asquatbaldmanmuscledlikeabagofrocks.

           "Fireislifeuphere,"saidQhorinHalfhand,"butitcanbedeathaswell."Byhiscommand,they’driskednoopenflamessinceenteringthemountains.Theyatecoldsaltbeef,hardbread,andhardercheese,andsleptclothedandhuddledbeneathapileofcloaksandfurs,gratefulforeachother’swarmth.ItmadeJonremembercoldnightslongagoatWinterfell,whenhe’dsharedabedwithhisbrothers.Thesemenwerebrotherstoo,thoughthebedtheysharedwasstoneandearth.

           "They’llhaveahorn,"saidStonesnake.

           TheHalfhandsaid,"Ahorntheymustnotblow."

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