Chapter X: Jon I – A Life in the True North

“Come down here, King Crow! It’s time for lunch!” Tormund Giantsbane called up from the ground. “Mella made seal stew!”

Jon Snow sighed and wiped the sweat off his brow. Then he put the hammer back into his belt and stretched his fingers. Despite years of training with the sword, his hands were unused to handling a hammer and he regularly got blisters from working. At least he had some idea of how to shingle a roof. Most of the other surviving wildlings had never lived in a village like Hardhome, instead living in tents further north, or under roofs covered in a thick layer of grass, half-sunken into the ground. It was trial and error, rebuilding the lands beyond the Wall. The bright side was that they could all hunt. Even if Jon was getting sick of seal.

“I’m not a king anymore, Tormund!” Jon called back when he scrambled down the ladder.

“It’s a nickname,” Tormund countered, grinning, then clapped Jon on the shoulder with one of his paws. “It’s coming along?”

Jon shrugged. “We’ll see. I think I’m getting better at it.”

“Maybe after you do a few more, you’ll make one where the roof doesn’t leak.”

Jon snorted. “Whatever I’m doing is better than what we’re living with right now. The Night King’s army did quite a number on this place when they marched through.”

They shared a look, because they both still remembered. Of course they did. All the fighting and the fear and the dying. But they’d won, he reminded himself. And Johnna and Willa were sitting with an old fisherman from the Frozen Shore who was teaching them how to make and repair nets. Karsi would be glad to see that, he thought.

“Look on the bright side,” Tormund argued. “At least they cleaned up the dead bodies.”

At Jon’s appalled face, Tormund started laughing. “Come on, you don’t want to let the seal stew grow cold. It’s even worse when it doesn’t warm you up properly.”

Fin

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