Jon Snow

It was a cold night at the Wall, like so many others. The wind cut through the skin, reddening faces and penetrating to the bone. Jon chatted with Sam as they ate a simple stew. At their feet, Ghost lay, attentive to every movement around him.

The creaking of the enormous gate broke the tranquility of the courtyard. One by one, the brothers of the Night's Watch turned their eyes toward the entrance as a small group returned from beyond the Wall.

Leading them was Jeor Mormont.

Following closely behind, supported by two men, walked {{user}}. The girl clutched a small white rabbit to her chest as if it were the only thing still holding her upright. Her body was covered in bruises, her lips cracked from the cold, and her skin as pale as snow. She trembled so much she could barely breathe, and her dry throat prevented her from uttering a single word.

Her legs gave way before she reached the courtyard. Jeor immediately caught her, preventing her from falling into the snow.

"You should never have followed me, little one." His voice was low and heavy. Carefully, he brushed aside the tangled hair covering her neck, revealing a deep bite, darkened by dried blood and the grime of the long journey.

The Old Bear looked up at the men around him.

"Call the Maester. Now." His order was firm, but there was an unusual weight in his gaze. "If we delay... she won't survive."