The winter winds showed no sign of letting up.
Lynn was flanked by two guards, one on each side, dragging him along.
He trudged unevenly over the snow-covered ground.
The cold bite of the chains seeped from his wrists, spreading up his arms and through his whole body.
Every breath sucked in air sharp as knives, stinging his lungs raw.
Lynn's body was in rough shape.
The original guy, a Night's Watch deserter, had fled south from the Wall and was already at the end of his rope.
Hunger and cold had drained every last bit of strength.
That outburst back at the execution ground had used up pretty much all the energy Lynn had left.
Now, he could only let himself be hauled forward.
At the front of the group was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell.
He rode a tall warhorse, his broad back steady as a mountain.
That Valyrian greatsword called Ice was sheathed again, slung across his back.
But the invisible weight of it still hung over the whole party.
His sons trailed behind him.
The oldest, Robb, rode side by side with Jon Snow.
They were whispering about something, looking serious.
Theon Greyjoy seemed way more relaxed, even messing around with his horse a bit.
The youngest, Bran Stark, was told by his dad to ride close by his side.
His young face still had a touch of paleness.
Lynn's eyes scanned over those young figures before dropping back to the monotonous snow in front of him.
He knew damn well he was only alive for the moment.
Ned Stark wasn't an idiot.
A story about the Others would buy him, at best, a chance to be questioned.
If he couldn't cough up more useful info, or if they called bullshit...
That Valyrian greatsword Ice would be back at his neck in no time.
And this time, no lucky breaks.
"Bran."
Ned Stark's deep voice cut through the wind, clear in Bran's ears.
Ned didn't turn around, just slowed his horse so his son's mount could keep up easier.
"You understand why I brought you today?"
Bran's little hands gripped the reins tight. He looked up at his father's profile.
"Jon said I'm old enough to watch an execution."
"It's more than that."
Ned Stark's tone had a teaching edge to it.
"You know why I had to execute him?"
"Because he's a deserter from the Night's Watch."
Bran answered quick.
"Yes."
Lord Ned nodded slightly.
"But he's a man too."
"Our laws are ancient—deserters must die."
"I never enjoy it, Bran."
"But my duty doesn't let me back down."
Ned's gaze drifted to the distant gray-white horizon.
"He who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
"If you're going to take a life, you owe it to look him in the eyes and hear his final words."
"If you can't do that, maybe he doesn't deserve to die."
He wasn't just saying this for Bran—it was for every Stark kid behind him.
"Bran, remember: One day you'll be Robb's bannerman."
"You'll rule your own lands for your brother and the king, and upholding the law will be part of it."
"Then, you can't kill for fun, and you can't run from responsibility."
"Face it—never shy away!"
"Or you'll lose your respect for life real quick."
This was the Stark way.
The North's way.
Lynn listened quietly.
He knew this conversation.
It was Ned Stark schooling his kids on honor and duty.
A man so noble he was almost stubborn about it.
But that's exactly why Lynn had bet on him—and won.
Bran went quiet for a bit, like he was chewing on his dad's words.
But his young mind clearly couldn't wrap around the heavy stuff yet.
He was more hung up on something else.
"Father."
Bran's voice had that kid curiosity, mixed with a fear he couldn't hide.
"What the deserter said... is it true?"
"The Others... do they really exist?"
As soon as he asked, the group's vibe shifted a little.
Robb and Jon stopped talking and glanced over.
Even Theon Greyjoy toned down his cockiness.
Everyone's eyes, one way or another, landed on the prisoner being escorted at the back.
Lynn kept his head down, like he didn't notice.
Eddard Stark didn't answer for a long time.
The wind and snow whipped his cloak, flapping loud.
"A long time ago, in the Age of Heroes, the Long Night came."
He finally spoke, his voice distant and grave.
"The First Men fought alongside the Children of the Forest to drive those things back to the Lands of Always Winter in the far north."
"Brandon the Builder raised the Wall, and the Night's Watch was formed to guard against their return."
"These are stories written in the history books."
Bran's eyes lit up for a second, then dimmed.
"So, they're just stories, right?"
Eddard Stark went silent.
He couldn't give a straight answer.
As Warden of the North, he knew the weight of those old legends better than anyone.
The North wasn't like the warm South.
Here, folks revered the old gods and believed in magic.
"We haven't seen the Others for thousands of years."
That's what Ned said in the end.
It was vague—neither yes nor no.
But the seriousness in it made Bran's young heart uneasy.
Right then, Jon Snow at the front suddenly reined in his horse.
"My lord!"
His voice had a note of surprise.
The whole group halted.
Lynn got shoved to a stop by the guards.
He lifted his head, following Jon's gaze ahead.
Not far off in the snow, there was a huge black shape lying there.
It was the body of a beast.
Its size was way bigger than a regular wolf—almost as big as a pony.
Deep gray fur crusted with frozen black blood, and a broken antler stabbed deep into its throat.
A killing blow.
"We really found a direwolf!"
Robb Stark's voice was full of awe.
Ned whipped his head back to look at Lynn.
He quickly dismounted and went up to check the wolf's body.