Departure #28

One day later, within the confines of the Raven's cave, a sense of urgency filled the air as preparations for their departure were finalized. Qhorin took one last look at the roughly drawn map depicting the lands north of the Wall, a tangible representation of their perilous journey ahead. 

Folding the map with a sense of resolve, he stowed it away, emphasizing the importance of their mission. "Now that everyone's well-rested, and we have our path charted, it's time to depart," Qhorin declared. 

He rose from his seat, and Gale, Benjen, and Edd followed suit. With their gear in order, they prepared to leave.

As they gathered near the cave's exit, Leaf, the guardian of this mystical place, approached them with a serene demeanor. She offered to guide them toward the outside world, the expanse of snow and scattered wight corpses awaiting them.

"It's here that we bid farewell," Qhorin spoke solemnly, acknowledging the kindness and refuge they had received. "Thank you for your help and hospitality." With that, he turned to leave, and the others followed suit, heading out into the stark wilderness.

Leaf wished them well, and while Benjen and Edd expressed their gratitude with nods, Gale was more reserved. He couldn't ignore the inner conflict he carried but managed to convey his appreciation.

"I still feel like cutting you to pieces, but I'm no animal. I can fight against the worst of my nature," Gale admitted. "Thank you for saving Qhorin."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and joined the others as they ventured forth, leaving Leaf with an unreadable expression and the weight of her own thoughts.

...

Somewhere deep within the enigmatic depths of the Haunted Forest, Tormund Giantsbane knelt on the frigid, snow-covered ground. He closely examined the lifeless form of a wight sprawled before him, its head grotesquely severed with precision. 

The clean cut along the spine, a mark of expertise and skill, didn't escape Tormund's attention.

"This took a sharp blade, and the skill to wield it—crow work, no doubt," he mused aloud, his rough fingers tracing the impeccable line of the severed spinal bone. Silence met his observations, which prompted a crease of concern on his brow. 

He turned to find Threya gazing into the horizon with a contemplative look.

Tormund recognized the unspoken concern in her eyes, and he broke into a wry grin. "The women from Craster's Keep are with Ygritte. She'll keep them safe," he assured her. "If any of the lads dare lay a hand on the women, you can be sure Ygritte will have his pecker and feed it to the wolves." His chuckle was hearty, and Threya's smile returned.

"You are right," she conceded. "You were saying?" Threya prompted, eager to address the more pressing matter.

"This is crow work," Tormund confirmed, gesturing to the myriad of wight corpses strewn across the chilling landscape. "But I can't find any traces of the bastards. I have no idea how they got here or where they went." Bewilderment played across Tormund's features as he mulled over this mystery, the absence of clues leaving them perplexed.

Threya listened attentively to Tormund's response, her thoughtful hum carrying a hint of concern. "Now that you mention it... the crow party that ambushed me didn't leave any traces either," she admitted. 

"Craster's wives told me they visited the keep, but I found no traces leading in or out of the place." Her words were tinged with frustration as she shook her head, struggling to make sense of the mysterious absence of evidence.

Tormund couldn't suppress a grin, finding an odd sense of humor in their enigmatic adversaries. "So... we're dealing with a crow party of four that's not only capable of destroying an undead horde, but also covering their tracks better than even our people," he remarked, stroking his fiery beard.

 His amusement was palpable. "Now the question is whether this one party is special, or if the entire Night's Watch has somehow turned into gods." He concluded his observation with a hearty chuckle.

Threya, however, couldn't quite share in Tormund's humor. She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm and quipped, "Both options are concerning, and yet here you are, grinning like an idiot."

Tormund, unfazed by her skepticism, replied matter-of-factly, "Why wouldn't I? I reckon I'll have another story to tell once we get to the bottom of this." 

With that, he rose to his feet, signaling for the others to prepare for the continuation of their journey. "Come on, let's keep moving." 

His determined tone resonated through the group of wildlings, and they continued their journey through the Haunted Forest, eager to unravel the mystery of the elusive crow party.

...

Inside Castle Black, within the confines of the Lord Commander's office, the tense conversation continued, as Ser Alliser Thorne pressed for more information. The Lord Commander, having shared some of the truth about the impending threats, responded to the discontented knight.

"But why keep this from us? We could have spent the time preparing!" Ser Alliser Thorne protested, his frustration evident in his tone. He had clearly taken issue with the secrecy surrounding the recent events.

The Lord Commander defended his actions, pointing out the efforts that had already been made. "And what do you think we've been doing so far?" He countered. "The increased recruitment efforts? To bolster our ranks." His voice held the weight of experience. 

"The increased patrols? To gather more information and gather evidence, which we would present to Lord Stark and the lords in King's Landing," he explained, emphasizing the larger strategic plan at play.

Ser Thorne gritted his teeth, his reservations still unswayed. "This still doesn't warrant all the secrecy. We have all vowed our lives to the watch. We deserve to know the threats we stand to face," he argued, using a decisive gesture to emphasize his point.

The Lord Commander conceded the merit of his concerns. "True enough, but ignorance is a blessing, Ser Thorne," he admitted, underlining the delicate balance they were trying to maintain. "We were already facing a problem with the increasing number of deserters due to rumors of the undead alone," he revealed. 

"What do you think these green, untrained recruits will do once their Lord Commanders confirm the rumors?" His expression was solemn. "I couldn't let news of this threat spread, not before preparing our fresh recruits," he concluded, highlighting the necessity of controlled information.

Ser Thorne sighed, acknowledging the wisdom behind the Lord Commander's reasoning, though not entirely satisfied. 

"What about that stray that Benjen picked up north of the Wall?" he asked, switching the topic and making his suspecions known. "I know he has something to do with this mess..." His narrowed gaze suggested a deeper concern.

"That is not for me to reveal, and not for you to know, Ser Thorne," the Lord Commander calmly reiterated. His voice held the weight of his authority. "Now then, if you have no further business, I suggest you take your leave now," he added, his tone becoming more commanding.

However, Ser Thorne was not easily dissuaded, his suspicions and curiosity driving him to press further. "Lord Commander, surely you don't expect us to—" he began, but his words were abruptly cut off as the Lord Commander took decisive action.

With a sudden and sharp gesture, the Lord Commander slammed his palm onto the table, causing everyone in the room to startle. Rising from his seat, he strode over to the wall and retrieved a longsword, making his point quite clear.

"Perhaps you've misheard me, Ser Thorne," the Lord Commander stated firmly as he unsheathed the sword. The Valyrian cold steel gleamed in the dimly lit room. 

"I've already said that we have nothing more to discuss, so unless you and your companions intend to put those swords on your sides to use," he warned, his stance leaving no room for further debate. "I suggest that you kindly get out of my sight at once," he concluded, underlining his authority and the finality of his decision.

Within the Lord Commander's office, the tense atmosphere reached its climax, but it quickly dissolved under the influence of a cooler, wiser voice. "You've heard the man, lads. Time to get back to your duties unless you want to get a taste of the Lord Commander's Valyrian steel," Ser Rykker's voice resounded in the room, his tone carrying a note of amusement. 

He approached with a knowing look, addressing Thorne specifically. "You too, Thorne. You should know better than to test Lord Mormont's patience," he advised, acknowledging the tense situation.

Ser Thorne, though visibly frustrated, understood that further argument was futile. He grunted in displeasure, turning on his heel, and began to exit the room, accompanied by the ranger who had accompanied him. 

The tension seemed to recede as they left the office.

Ser Rykker released a sigh of relief, addressing the Lord Commander with concern. "I hope you won't hold this against him, Lord Commander," he said, his voice reflecting his desire for harmony within the Night's Watch.

 "He's prickly and hardheaded by nature, but he means well," Rykker explained, seeking to mitigate any lingering animosity.

The Lord Commander, although stern, acknowledged Thorne's intentions. "I know as much, Ser Rykker," he responded as he sheathed his sword and returned to his seat. 

The grave circumstances weighed on him, and he did not have the luxury of leniency. "However, dark times await us, and I don't have the leeway to coddle fragile egos for much longer," he emphasized, his gaze unyielding. 

"As his friend, it is your duty to ensure nothing like this happens again," he concluded, his expectations for Ser Rykker clear. 

With a nod of understanding, Ser Rykker took his leave to address the matter, leaving the Lord Commander to contemplate the challenges ahead.