Back in his tent, he abruptly drew his longsword and hacked madly at the wooden pole supporting the tent beside him, sending splinters flying.
"I can't wait any longer, ser!"
He wept bitterly as he addressed Marlon Manderly, who had followed him inside, tears mingling with sweat. "Did you hear her? Did you hear her?! She was crying, calling for help! That's my sister! If I keep waiting, even if Arya survives, they'll destroy her completely!"
Marlon Manderly's expression was as grim as iron. He understood Jon's anguish completely, but as a commander, he had to consider more.
He was just about to reason with him when a scout stumbled into the tent, his face deathly pale, and shouted breathlessly, "My lord, disaster! White Harbor has fallen! House Bolton's army breached the city and is sacking the town! They've captured Earl Wyman too!"
"What?!"
Marlon Manderly paled in shock. "That's impossible! White Harbor has strong walls and ample defenses! How could it have fallen so quickly?!"
"It was Ser Bartimus!"
The soldier's face was filled with terror and anger. "He betrayed us! At night, he secretly opened White Harbor's gates, and the Flint, Tallhart, and Karstark armies poured in! We've been sold out!"
Marlon Manderly slammed his fist onto the table. "Damn Bartimus! That shameless traitor!"
He turned to Jon, his tone urgent. "Jon, our situation is dire. With White Harbor lost, our supply line is completely severed. Food and supplies can't reach us, and our twenty thousand troops will soon be in desperate straits. We must retreat immediately, or once Bolton's army returns from White Harbor, we'll be caught between them and trapped here beneath Winterfell's walls until we die!"
Jon's expression changed abruptly, his extreme fury giving way to shock. "Retreat? Where can we retreat to? Is there