Up they went, and up, and up, black shadows creeping across the moonlit wall of rock.
Anyone down on the floor of the pass could have seen them easily, but the mountain
hid them from the view of the wildlings by their fire. They were close now, though.
Jon could sense it. Even so, he did not think of the foes who were waiting for him,
all unknowing, but of his brother at Winterfell. Bran used to love to climb.
I wish I had a tenth part of his courage.
(c)