The Wall stretches like a sword blade eastward from Castle Black and coils like a serpent to the west.
It has no gates—only tunnels bored through its massive base that lead beyond the Wall.
These tunnels are secured by multiple layers of iron bars locked with heavy chains.
Any tunnel abandoned by the castle or deemed too dangerous is sealed forever with ice and sand.
To the Seven Kingdoms the Wall is an unbreakable shield.
For eight thousand years—except for the thirteen-year reign of the thirteenth Lord Commander known as the Night's King and his undead queen who were ultimately overthrown by Brandon the Breaker King in the North—the garrison on the Wall has never faltered.
This is the proud history of the Night's Watch their supreme glory.
Even though the Watch is now filled with criminals and broken men that bone-deep pride remains fiercely guarded.
Aside from a handful of shameful oathbreakers these men live—and die—by the vow they swore the day they donned the black cloak:
"Night gathers and now my watch begins.
It shall not end until my death.
I shall take no wife hold no lands father no children.
I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.
I shall live and die at my post.
I am the sword in the darkness.
I am the watcher on the walls.
I am the fire that burns against the cold the light that brings the dawn the horn that wakes the sleepers the shield that guards the realms of men.
I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch for this night and all the nights to come."
When Ethan first heard this oath from Benjen a fire seemed to flare in his chest and for a brief moment he felt the urge to join the Night's Watch and stand guard over the North.
But after the biting winds of the Haunted Forest had battered him for days he abandoned the thought.
This was the Night's Watch's mission—not his.
His mission lay elsewhere.
The burden of saving the world was far too heavy for this fragile brotherhood of fewer than a thousand men with perhaps only three hundred capable of fighting.
Ethan had to find a stronger force.
Passing through the tunnel beneath the Wall he officially stepped beyond the borders of the Seven Kingdoms.
Emerging from the dark passage into the lands beyond he was met by a lush yet somber coniferous forest.
Ethan drew a careful breath. The air carried the scent of freedom—but to him it tasted only cold.
Benjen led the column into the trees on horseback explaining to Ethan—who was seeing the lands beyond the Wall for the first time:
"The Haunted Forest is an immense woodland comparable in size to the Wolfswood.
To keep the trees from pressing against the Wall we've been felling them day and night burning the wood—but we haven't pushed the forest back even a single pace…
I think sooner or later the Haunted Forest will stand right beside the Wall beneath our feet."
"Many wildling villages lie scattered through the Haunted Forest and most of them maintain reasonably good relations with the Night's Watch.
But there are also wildlings who migrate here from farther north who don't know—or don't care about—the rules and cause trouble.
That's why rangers must patrol regularly to ensure no new tribes grow strong enough to threaten the Wall."
Benjen continued:
"There are only two ways wildling raiders can cross the Wall.
The first is to risk their lives climbing it.
Over the years the number of black brothers has shrunk leaving the Wall thinly guarded.
If the wildlings are willing to travel far enough they can always find an unwatched stretch.
The numbers who cross this way are small—not a major threat.
The second route is by sea around the eastern and western ends of the Wall.
But Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea guard those coastlines respectively.
Unless the wildlings are willing to freeze to death swimming in open water they'll be caught and killed by the brothers stationed there the moment they come ashore."
As the forest grew denser and quieter Benjen fell silent.
In the hush of towering oaks ironwood and grey-green sentinel trees only the steady rhythm of hooves broke the stillness.
Deep in this vast coniferous sea the cold wind cut like knives against every inch of exposed skin.
The rangers rode with legs clamped tight to their mounts' sides hands firm on the reins.
An invisible bond linked the entire column—man and horse seeming almost one—yet every eye remained watchful.
After a full day's ride night fell.
Benjen found a dry sheltered hollow in the mountainside and ordered camp.
The eight men had only one horse each and limited carrying capacity so they brought no tents—only sleeping bags.
Camp was simply a fire circle with bedrolls spread around it.
Benjen divided the watch into four shifts pairing men of differing combat skill and assigning Ethan to stand with a young brother named Gordon.
After the others slept Ethan occasionally tossed a stick or two into the flames the flickering light playing across sleeping faces.
After a long silence Gordon spoke quietly:
"You really beat Sandor Clegane—the Hound?"
Ethan nodded.
"Yes. The Lannister boy accused me of deceiving the king—claiming I'd passed off scavenged bones as my kill.
The king ordered me to fight him to prove my story."
"Did you actually deceive him?"
"Who—the king?"
"Yes."
Ethan shook his head.
"Of course not.
Even if someone deceived him it wasn't me."
Gordon gave a short bitter laugh.
"Heh… the king's judgment…"
"You've met the king?"
Gordon poked the fire with a twig.
"Yes. When I was a squire I rode with my master to the great tourney in King's Landing.
Unfortunately he was unhorsed after two tilts—only won a suit of armor.
But even that bought us several comfortable months."
"And then?"
"Then… my master died fighting bandits.
I tried to take his belongings. The lord who hired us called it theft and sent me here."
Ethan fell silent unsure what to say.
After a while Gordon continued:
"Sandor Clegane was a fearsome fighter. I remember he reached the penultimate round of that tourney but lost to Jaime Lannister and never made the final.
When Jaime unhorsed his last opponent and rode past the stands the ladies howled like wolves under a full moon throwing scented handkerchiefs with all their strength.
He ignored them all—accepted only a single rose from the queen.
My master told me then that if the Kingslayer had been willing to trade his beauty for even a drop of favor from the Seven Gods he would have won the whole thing."
Ethan asked curiously:
"So who took the champion's laurels in the end?"
"Ser Gregor Clegane—the Mountain. A truly monstrous man.
He cut through seven or eight opponents defeated the Kingslayer in the semi-finals and then Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard in the final to claim the crown.
But in my opinion Ser Barristan the Bold was stronger.
Keep in mind his hair and beard were already white yet the difference between him and the Mountain was razor-thin.
If they'd been the same age Ser Barristan would have won."
"That's not necessarily true…" Ethan shook his head.
"You know in tourneys or any contest with rules experience can compensate for raw strength.
If the Mountain is truly as powerful as you describe Ser Barristan would probably lose more often than he wins in a real fight."
Gordon took a pull from his wineskin tried to picture a young Barristan Selmy facing the Mountain and had to admit:
"True.
Just thinking about fighting the Mountain makes me want to piss myself."
Ethan accepted the skin took a swallow then pulled a strip of jerky from his own pouch and passed it to Gordon.
The two ate meat drank wine and talked quietly through the lonely night.
From their conversation Ethan could tell Gordon still missed the days when he rode at his master's side on leisurely southern campaigns.
Ethan asked curiously:
"So… do you want to go back?"
Gordon shrugged.
"Go back for what?
From the day I took the black the Wall has been my home.
Actually I'm doing quite well here. No worries about food or clothing.
After payday I ride to Mole's Town for a few rounds.
Apart from being colder than the south it's not bad."
Ethan hugged his arms shivered involuntarily.
"I'm afraid it's more than just 'a bit colder' isn't it?
I haven't traveled much—so don't lie to me."
"Haha…"
After the watch changed Ethan crawled back under his blankets thinking to himself:
These are men cast aside by the Seven Kingdoms—yet they have found a home in this frozen land.
He couldn't help feeling glad for them.
The next morning the group packed up and continued north.
Before noon they reached their first village.
Upon arrival Benjen saw no one moving outdoors so he sent two black brothers—Othor and Jafer—to scout inside.
Armed and cautious the pair entered the settlement.
Pushing open doors they found only a dozen or so low dim dwellings—empty of people and possessions.
After receiving the report Benjen dismounted and walked the village himself carefully inspecting each house.
He speculated:
"I think they must have migrated.
But why?
Two months ago when we patrolled this area Tosh and his people sold us half a sheep."
Othor offered another possibility:
"They might have been taken.
Wildlings never know peace."
"Perhaps." Benjen dusted his hands.
"Let's check the next village."
As night approached the patrol reached another settlement.
Unsurprisingly it too was deserted—all supplies gone.
At this point Benjen was reasonably certain the wildlings had left voluntarily.
There were no signs of violence inside or outside the villages—no broken doors no blood no scattered belongings—which didn't fit the wildlings' usual raiding habits.
"Someone must have called the people of those two villages together—or something frightened them away.
Whether they left willingly or were forced we must find the reason.
We can't allow a conspiracy to grow right under the Night's Watch's nose."
After consulting his brothers Benjen decided to ride north to Craster's Keep in the Haunted Forest.
"Craster's Keep isn't really a keep" Gordon explained to the puzzled Ethan.
"The name 'keep' is just what the Night's Watch calls it.
It lies north in the Haunted Forest beyond which stretches endless snowfield and ice.
The owner is Craster—a surly wildling and also our friend.
Rangers patrolling the Haunted Forest rarely come this far north—but every time we do Craster is willing to receive us.
If anyone beyond the Wall knows what's really happening here and is willing to speak honestly—it's him."
That night the eight men rested in the deserted village.
Since empty houses were available they chose the two nearest ones.
In the middle of the night Ethan woke with the need to relieve himself.
He stumbled outside found a large tree and dropped his trousers out of habit.
When he finished he sensed something wrong.
It was too quiet.
In such a dense vast forest—apart from their horses—not a single sound.
This was very abnormal.
Just then a dry branch snapped in the trees.
Ethan immediately pulled up his trousers drew his sword and moved cautiously toward the noise.
Then he saw it—a giant bear almost as tall as he was—standing beneath a pine not far away glaring at him with a low rumbling growl.
Behind the mother bear two cubs no taller than his knees clung to her legs staring back with wide eyes.
Ethan froze unable to move.
It wasn't that he wasn't afraid of it… well he *was* afraid of it.
Even after leading the Argent Crusade strike team into Icecrown Citadel defeating the Lich King and winning the Northrend campaign he had still been mauled to death by an ordinary bear mob on Mount Hyjal.
Therefore until he could determine which version of mama bear this was Ethan had no intention of making the first move.
The mother bear clearly felt the same.
After a brief tense standoff Benjen's voice came from behind:
"Ethan—what are you doing?"
Probably hearing other voices the mother bear realized the two-legged creature had companions.
She turned and lumbered away with her cubs.
"It's all right—the mother bear and her cubs are gone."
Ethan sheathed his sword returned to the abandoned village and clapped Benjen on the shoulder.
"Remember to bar the door when you sleep—who knows what strange things might wander in."
Benjen stared at the faint lights and shadows moving in the distant forest for a while then returned to his chosen house and dutifully braced the door shut with a thick log.
The next morning the group packed and continued north.
That day to confirm Benjen's suspicion they searched three more villages in succession.
As before—not a single living soul and not even a single grain of food remained in the fields around the settlements.
"There are two more wildling villages farther north.
We'll check those tomorrow.
If they're empty too we ride straight to Craster's Keep and ask him if he knows what's been happening here lately."
Unfortunately that night a sudden hard frost began to fall.
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