The returning party stretched into a long black line along the Kingsroad.
With Lynn there, Jon had not asked Tyrion to visit Bran.
So, upon learning that Lynn was returning to Winterfell, Tyrion had set off ahead of him.
Lynn's dragon was well hidden, and Tyrion knew nothing about it.
He only knew that Lynn had a dragon egg.
In winter, the roads of the North were harder to travel than at any other time.
Snow blanketed the land, and the bitter wind cut across everyone's cheeks like a knife.
Yet spirits within the party were unusually high.
Lynn rode at the head of the column, with his hundred men close behind.
Now that the Night's Watch counted as his own people, their kills of hostile creatures could also earn him experience points. After some consideration, Lynn had decided to take them along in case he needed them.
Every man carried the grim, deadly air of a veteran of a hundred battles.
A commander who could slay White Walkers with his sword, find dragon eggs, and even bring the Lord Commander to heel deserved their absolute loyalty.
Arya rode her gentle little mare, staying close beside Lynn.
She no longer chattered as she had on the outward journey. Her small face held a composure beyond her years.
She simply gazed at Lynn's profile with her bright gray eyes, never blinking, as though she could never get enough.
Winter's three little heads poked out of the thick hide bundle in Lynn's arms.
They surveyed the frozen world curiously, occasionally letting out faint hisses.
Lynn spent most of his time in silence.
He studied the ancient Valyrian books Maester Aemon had left him, poring over them again and again.
Made of old parchment, these books recorded language and history long forgotten by