A month passed quickly.
Jon had not been idle during that month.
He marked out an area at the foot of the Wall on its northern side and set up a temporary camp.
Ygritte moved in with her tribe. Though they resented the restrictions on their movements, at least they no longer had to face the wind, snow, and threat of the White Walkers directly.
Jon assured them this was only temporary, and that he would find a way to keep his promise.
But the undercurrents within the Night's Watch had never subsided.
Alliser Thorne had backed down for the moment, but the voices of opposition had never fallen silent.
Davos remained silent throughout, neither supporting nor opposing him.
Every day, Jon could feel that unspoken pressure, weighing on his shoulders like the snow atop the Wall that never melted.
The messenger he had sent out was already heading south with the White Walker's severed limb, but a reply from King's Landing would take at least a month to reach the Wall.
Meanwhile, the wildlings beyond the Wall continued to grow in number. The White Walkers were driving them south, and every day, new tribes appeared at the foot of the Wall, gazing at the towering barrier of ice with fear and hope mingled in their eyes.
Jon stood atop the Wall, silently watching the scattered campfires in the distance.
Ghost lay at his feet, his chin resting on his paws, the dancing firelight reflected in his amber eyes.
Jon knew there was little time left.
Meanwhile, at Casterly Rock in the Westerlands.
Aegon received Jon Connington's reply.
Sitting on the lion-carved throne in the great hall, he opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.
The letter began with a report on dragonglass mining. Arrangements had already been made