"Fess, if you were running things, how would you handle this 1000-man Zonian force?" Brienne asked. She looked across the table expectantly at the woodsman and then around the tent at the others who were seated there. Fess looked like he was thinking really hard; you could almost smell the gears grinding in his head. Then something dawned on him. "I would dam the stream north of here and face them while they are in the muddy creek bed. Then I would break the dam and let the water catch them in its rush back downstream." Brienne looked thoughtful and said, "How long before they get here?" "Two days," Hassan stated. "We have teams harrying their advance, but they can't slow them much more than that," he added. "Fess, take as many men as you need to dam the stream, and Hassan, try to slow them more?" Brienne added, "Good plan, Fess!" They broke up the meeting and went about their tasks.
Jon and Qotho landed Drogon on the first bit of land they came to after getting across the Narrow Sea. Jon looked around and recognized their location. They were southeast of the Dreadfort, maybe 200 miles from Winterfell. "We can be home in the morning after Drogon rests," Jon said. Qotho was already cooking them a meal, and he had thrown Drogon the last goat carcass they had, for him to eat while he rested. Drogon smacked his thin lips. "He always smacks his lips," Jon said, and Qotho laughed. After they ate and Drogon had rested, they took to the wing. Jon told Qotho, "Hold on!" He goaded Drogon into a 45-degree climb pointed mostly westward. They climbed for an hour as the world got dark beneath them. Through the clouds and into the colder air aloft. Far to the west, the sun was still shining, and when its last light hit them, Jon turned Drogon into a dive back slightly southwest. Jon had figured out that if you climbed high enough at an angle and then came back down at a similar angle, you covered more distance more quickly. He had practiced and tested it back at the cave where they first found Drogon. Three hours flight out, an hour climbing back at the same angle, cold air, and then back down at the same angle. It just took less time; it exhausted Drogon quicker, but it was faster.
First light found them just north of Winterfell, just above a wood Jon had hunted as a boy. He turned Drogon south for a few miles and landed in front of the gates of Winterfell. There were strange iron rails on wooden crossties, though he didn't know that moniker. They ran along the road as far south as he could see, and looking north, he could see them bend off to the west into the trees of the Wolfswood. A watchman had run to inform Lady Stark, and she appeared at the gates opening dressed in a thick robe over her sleeping gown. On the parapets, a gaggle of children were shrieking and trying to climb up to get a better view of a 'dragon' perched outside the walls, like it was no big deal. Sansa looked hard at Jon as he and Qotho climbed off their mount. "Jon?" she said, like it couldn't be true. Then "Jon!" as recognition struck her. She ran and threw herself into his arms, oblivious to the snorting dragon at arm's length from her.
Jon hugged his sister with a deep sense of homecoming after a long, arduous campaign. "Sansa, it is so good to see you." Then a serious look crossed Sansa's face. "Jon, you must go help Arya. The Zonian invasion force is about to attack Deepwoods Motte. Oh, where are my manners? You must be hungry." With a wave of her hand, a table and chairs were brought out where they stood, and breakfast was served. A whole side of beef was dropped, but not too close to Drogon, who smacked his lips and ate with gusto. They ate and spoke for about an hour while Sansa informed them of the current situation. About 10 minutes into the meal, Sansa looked aghast, saying, "Forgive me, good sir, I didn't get your name. I am Sansa, Jon's sister." Jon looked sheepish, saying, "Sansa, please meet my companion Qotho, a stalwart Dothraki." Sansa giggled, saying, "Companion sounds so intimate, Jon, I thought you liked women." As Jon started stammering, Sansa laughed out loud and winked at Qotho, saying, "Sorry, Qotho, I love to tease my sweet brother." Qotho got the joke then and snorted, and they all laughed. Sansa grew serious again and told Jon that the battle was imminent and that he must go to save their sister, Arya. Several hours had passed, and Drogon had slept well, so the table was cleared away and the two men mounted up again. As they were lifting into the air, Jon shouted, "Sansa, what are those rails?" "Wind train tracks, Jon." And as if to answer his question, a loud clacking came from the north. A strange thing began to pull into the 'station', a small platform near the gates. The dragon was not pleased with its look, and Jon had to fight it to turn away from this new enemy. "Where is Brandon's Rest?" Jon shouted down at Sansa. "Follow the tracks north, Jon!" came her reply.