Lynn never made it to Craster's Keep.
The next morning, just before Harma led her riders out, he found her and handed over the captured Longclaw.
"Take this. If you run into the Others, run first. If you can't, use the sword."
Harma was a thick-bodied woman who hated dogs with a passion. Every few days she killed one and stuck its head on a spear as her banner—that was how she'd earned the name Dogshead. She tied Longclaw to her saddle, gave Lynn a stiff nod of thanks, then turned to the newly arrived Qhorin.
"Halfhand, if there are too many of your crow brothers or they refuse to yield, I'll have no choice but to kill them. As for Craster, I'll bring his dog head back on my new spear."
She didn't wait for an answer. She spurred her horse and rode off, one hundred riders streaming after her toward the edge of the forest.
The Free Folk respected strength. Even though Qhorin had killed countless raiders, they never called him "crow" behind his back. They even gave the fierce, hard old Mormont the respectful nickname "the Old Bear."
Watching the cavalry disappear, Qhorin's throat worked, but he said nothing.
A hollow-eyed Jon Snow stood beside him. The manacles were still on his wrists, but Ghost had been allowed to stay near the column.
After the long night talk with Qhorin, Jon had stopped shouting about honor and oaths. He looked like a beaten rooster now, shoulders hunched, waiting for whatever fate decided.
Raider bands rode past them one after another. Some spat at Jon. Others gave him cold, murderous stares, clearly itching to put a blade in him.
None of it hurt as much as Ygritte's silence.
The largest group—two hundred Thenns plus Jarl's raiders—would be the main force that climbed the Wall and took Castle Black. They would scale the ice between Long Barrow and Ice Gate and set up rope ladders.
The other bands were decoys. The Weeper headed for Queen's Gate, Rattleshirt for Nightfort, "Shieldbreaker" Sorren for Stone Gate. "Wanderer" Howd would roam the forest line to cut off patrols, the warrior witch Morna would harass Shadow Tower, and Tormund would gather men at Eastwatch.
After losing three hundred elite rangers, the remaining five or six hundred black brothers were scattered across three castles. The raiders would keep them running in circles.
Castle Black sat in the center of the Wall and held the most men, so it would send out the largest response. Qhorin figured no more than a hundred would be left behind—and they'd be the old, the sick, and the weak.
"If that's true, the Watch couldn't hold the Wall even if they had twice as many men," Mance told Lynn. Qhorin didn't argue.
"Castle Black is a castle without walls," he said. "It can't be defended."
Seeing Lynn's puzzled look, Mance explained.
"The Night's Watch swears to stay neutral and never meddle in the affairs of the realm. But over the centuries a few proud, stupid Lord Commanders forgot that oath. Their ambition nearly destroyed the order.
Lord Commander Runcel Hightower tried to pass the command to his bastard son Rodrik. Flint wanted to crown himself King-Beyond-the-Wall. Tristan Mudd, Mad Mark Rankenfell, Robin Hill…"
"Six hundred years ago the commanders of Snowgate and the Nightfort declared war on each other. When the Lord Commander tried to stop them, they joined forces and murdered him. The Starks of Winterfell had to step in, take their heads, and restore order. It was easy—the forts face south with no defenses at all."
Lynn was listening intently from horseback when a sudden brawl erupted among the giants.
Mance let out a groan. "What the hell are they doing now?"
He kicked his horse forward, shouting at the giants in their ancient tongue, trying to break up the fight.
While Mance was busy, Lynn turned to Qhorin, who picked up where the King-Beyond-the-Wall had left off.
"Before Jeor Mormont there have been nine hundred and ninety-six Lord Commanders. Most were brave and honorable… but some were cowards, fools, tyrants, even madmen.
We survived because the lords and kings of the Seven Kingdoms knew the Watch was no threat to them. Our only enemy was north of the Wall, and we had the Wall to our north.
That's all there was to it."
Qhorin shifted on the unsaddled donkey to keep his balance, then continued.
"As long as the leader isn't an idiot, two hundred Thenns in one charge can take the stair platform and the gate tunnel. That Kassa seems sharp enough."
Lynn gave a short laugh.
"I gave strict orders: no raiding villages, stay completely hidden, give Castle Black zero warning. But you—once we take Castle Black, can you really talk Shadow Tower into surrendering?"
"Ser Denys Mallister will probably call me a shameless traitor," Qhorin said calmly. "But most of them will be afraid. They'll hesitate. Then they'll lay down their weapons.
Shadow Tower only has two hundred men. A hundred of their best went with the Old Bear and died on the Fist. I doubt the rest will value honor more than their lives."
Behind them the Fist of the First Men slowly faded into the distance.
The snow had stopped. The army of clansmen, Thenns, and giants on woolly mammoths pushed forward.
The raiders had taken every horse and sled-pulling animal, so the rest of the column had to haul the heavy sleds by hand. Their pace had slowed.
Qhorin figured they still needed at least ten days to reach the Wall at this speed.
Lynn had done the math—one hundred leagues was roughly five hundred kilometers. In this heavy snow, forty or fifty kilometers a day was already fast marching.
On the fourth evening Harma's cavalry caught up with the main host.
Her spear was empty—no Craster head. But the column had grown. Three black brothers were roped together and dragged behind the horses.
Mance's frown deepened as he counted the riders emerging from the haunted forest. When he reached ninety and more kept coming, his brows finally relaxed.
Harma rode straight to Lynn and Mance. Qhorin and Jon moved closer.
"Craster's Keep is burned to the ground," she said, breathing hard. "I only found one of his daughters—or wives, whatever she is.
No fighting. The crows we met on the road surrendered. Here they are—all that's left.
Let the girl tell you herself."
She handed Longclaw back to Lynn, then took her exhausted riders off to make camp, water the horses, and rest.