After they passed through the Haunted Forest, a wall of ice towering into the clouds finally appeared at the edge of their vision, amid the gray-white world.
The Wall.
The immense wall of ice stretched across the far north of Westeros, its seven-hundred-foot face gleaming faintly blue beneath the gloomy sky.
Flickers of fire could just be seen along its top, where sentries of the Night's Watch patrolled.
Jon stopped and gazed at the Wall he had once thought he would never see again, breathing out a cloud of white mist.
Behind him, the surviving men of the Night's Watch raised their heads as well.
Some murmured prayers to the Old Gods, some silently traced the seven-pointed star over their chests, and others simply stared at the Wall, their tears freezing into streaks on their numb faces.
He turned to Ygritte. "Have your tribes stop here for now, at the edge of the Haunted Forest."
"We don't know how things stand. If you come straight to the foot of the Wall with us, you might be attacked."
Ygritte watched him for a while, her eyes still bright amid the wind and snow, their emotion unreadable.
In the end, she said nothing and turned toward the wildlings.
Jon looked away, drew a deep breath, and led the surviving men of the Night's Watch onward to the foot of the Wall.
The closer they came, the more oppressive the towering ice became.
When they finally reached the enormous tunnel gate, Jon raised his head and shouted at the figures dimly moving atop the Wall:
"I'm Jon Snow! I've brought our brothers of the Night's Watch back! Open the gate!"
The blizzard tore his voice to pieces, leaving it almost inaudible by the time it reached the top of the Wall.
But the