The drag marks in the snow were unusually clear.
It looked as though someone had forcibly dragged them away from here, into the forest's snowy shadows.
"What happened here?"
Torrhen dismounted and frowned as he examined the tracks on the ground.
"Clearing the battlefield? Doesn't look like it."
"If Wildlings did this, they wouldn't have left these warhorses behind."
"Horse meat is good eating," another guard reasoned.
"And they would have taken the weapons and armor, too."
The swords and damaged mail on the ground proved that wasn't what had happened.
Lynn's gaze settled on the drag marks.
He remembered a scene from the original story.
A patrol had gone missing, never to return.
And that missing patrol had been led by Ser Waymar Royce.
They had encountered White Walkers.
They had all been killed.
Could this battlefield be...
Lynn didn't dare follow that thought any further.
"My lord, what should we do? Should we follow the tracks and take a look?" Torrhen asked.
"No." Lynn shook his head.
"This isn't something we can deal with right now."
"We're returning to Castle Black immediately, at full speed."
"Not a moment's delay!"
Lynn's tone brooked no argument.
Though Torrhen didn't understand, he immediately gave the order.
The party stayed no longer, racing south toward the Wall as fast as they could.
An invisible weight pressed down on everyone's heart.
They didn't know what had happened.
But Lynn's grave expression told them how serious it was.
When Castle Black's familiar black outline appeared on the horizon again, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
Coming home had never felt so reassuring.
Yet as they approached the castle, they noticed that something was wrong with the atmosphere.
A small crowd had gathered at the castle gates.
Instead of drilling or working as usual, they stood together, pointing at something and murmuring among themselves.
Lynn reined in his horse.
In the middle of the crowd, he saw two shapes wrapped in black Night's Watch cloaks lying on crude sledges.
Several travel-worn rangers wore expressions of lingering shock.
They were telling Lord Commander Mormont and Maester Aemon something; both had come upon hearing the news.
Jon Snow and Arya stood among the crowd as well.
Jon's face was full of shock and unease.
His direwolf, Ghost, paced restlessly at his feet.
Low growls rumbled in his throat as he bared his sharp fangs at the things on the two sledges.
Arya's direwolf, Nymeria, was doing the same.
She pressed close to Arya's leg, her fur standing on end, her golden eyes full of wariness and hostility.
Those two bodies...
Lynn dismounted, pushed through the crowd, and walked over.
He recognized the two rangers at once.
One was Othell.
The other was Jaffer Flowers.
They had belonged to another patrol Benjen Stark had sent out before his own departure.
Now they had returned.
But like this.
"What happened?"
Lynn stepped up beside Lord Commander Mormont and asked in a low voice.
The Old Bear's face was frighteningly grim.
"They're dead."
"Our men found them."
"They were buried in the snow."
"Their bodies were frozen stiff, but... there were no obvious wounds."
No wounds?
White Walkers usually killed without leaving wounds.
With their icy touch, they drained every bit of warmth, every bit of life from your body.
"Their eyes..."
Mormont paused, seemingly searching for the right word.
"...were blue."
"Like sapphires."
Just as I thought.
Lynn pulled back the cloak covering one of the bodies.
"Lord Commander."
One of the rangers addressed Mormont.
"We searched the entire area, but found no trace of Ser Waymar."
"No sign of him, alive or dead."
Lord Commander Mormont's face darkened.
He stared at the two bodies in silence for a long time.
"Take them inside."
The Old Bear finally spoke, his voice laden with a weariness that would not lift.
"Aemon, examine them."
"See if you can find the cause of death."
Maester Aemon nodded.
Two men of the Night's Watch stepped forward to drag the two sledges into the castle.
"Wait!"
A voice suddenly rang out.
It was Lynn.
Every eye instantly turned to him.
Lord Commander Mormont turned his head, looking at Lynn with a trace of puzzlement in his keen eyes.
"Lynn? Is something wrong?"
Facing everyone's stares, Lynn took a deep breath.
He knew what he was about to say might be dismissed as a madman's ravings.
But he had to say it.
"Lord Commander."
Lynn's voice was steady and firm.
"You can't take them inside."
"Why?" Mormont frowned.
"Burn them."
Lynn spoke each word distinctly.
"Right here."
"Immediately!"
The entire courtyard fell deathly silent.
Everyone stared at Lynn as though he were mad.
Burn the bodies of their own brothers?
In the traditions of the Night's Watch, that was the gravest desecration of the dead!
Only Wildlings had such a custom!
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