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THE HAUNTED FOREST -
The Haunted Forest lay ahead like a wall of ghostly white, the mist coiling and shifting as if it were alive. The rangers moved in a tight formation, boots crunching over snow-crusted earth. The cold here was sharp enough to bite through fur and leather, the kind that worked its way into bone.
Jon Snow led them at a steady pace, Longclaw strapped to his side, his gloved hand never straying far from the hilt. His eyes kept darting toward the swirling fog above, where sometime ago three winged shadows had passed overhead, the queens dragons who made it back to the wall. Their roars had rolled over the land like thunder, and the men knew well that only one woman rode beasts like that.
The Queen of Dragons escaped this place.
But something else had come with her and didn't make it to the wall.
They'd seen it from the Wall or at least thought they had a huge black shadow tearing through the mist and plummeting into the forest with the force of a falling meteor. No one could say what it was, only that the crash had shaken the forest like a colossal giant's hand.
"Careful," Jon said, his voice carrying low but firm over the snow. "Keep your eyes open and your blades ready."
One of the older rangers, stepped closer to him. "We can't fucking see a thing in this mist… and it's unusually chilly. Even for the Haunted Forest."
Jon's gaze swept the pale fog. "I know. We're not far from the Wall, and yet the air feels… wrong." He adjusted the grip on his glove. "Clearly something happened here..or something is coming."
He didn't voice the rest, but the thought came unbidden 'Aeron… gods, I hope you kill the bastard, because this doesn't look good at all.'
They moved on, the crunch of snow the only sound between them. The fog thickened the deeper they got.
Suddenly, steel rang out.
A young ranger named lunged forward with a cry, his dragonglass blade cutting through the mist. The movement drew every eye and sword in their group.
Jon advanced on him. "What is it?"
The boy froze, staring down at a shape half-hidden in the snow. When the fog shifted, it revealed… a twisted thicket of branches.
The boy's breath fogged the air. "Seven hells… thought it moved."
One of the veterans shook his head with a sharp snort. "You're a bloody fool. Do not attack bli..."
The words cut short.
From the thicket, a pale hand shot out, seizing the veteran by the throat and yanking him into the mist. His scream was swallowed in an instant.
Then the wight emerged, face half gone, teeth snapping followed by another, and another.
Shapes began to move in the fog. First a dozen. Then more. Pale eyes burned cold blue in the white haze as they came from every direction, their movements jerking and inhuman.
"Form up!" Jon barked, drawing Longclaw in one smooth motion. "Defend each other's flanks and use the damn dragonglass!"
The rangers snapped into a defensive circle, swords raised, that of dragonglass catching faint glints in the weak light. The first wight crashed into their line, and the forest erupted into chaos steel ringing, bones breaking, and the scream of the rangers filled the air.
****
The snow had quieted after the last wight fell, its body collapsing into the snow, truly dead now thanks to dragonglass. The rangers stood in the mist, breath steaming in the cold air, their faces pale and drawn. A few muttered prayers under their breath. Others simply stared into the white veil, as though expecting another wave to come at any moment.
One of the older rangers stepped forward, wiping the blood and frost from his blade.
"Lord Commander… we should turn back. The forest is clearly cursed by something."
Another joined in, his voice tight with unease.
"We've lost the trail in this damn white hell and the gods know what else stalks in this mist. We've done our part, best get back to the Wall before more of those dead things find us or worse."
Jon stood silent for a moment, Longclaw resting in his grip. His eyes moved over them these men who'd followed him through worse, yet still feared the unknown pressing in on them now.
He took a breath and spoke, his tone was low and calm.
"No. We press on. We saw it fall, whatever it was, and we'll have a look. This is war damn it, and we need every scrap of knowledge we can gather. I've no wish to sit on the Wall, waiting for the enemy to knock on our gate. Not when they're already at our doorstep. Damn it you fools, this forest is not even that far from the wall, can't you see that we need to know what's going on here ?"
The rangers exchanged uneasy glances. A younger one swore under his breath.
"Seven bloody hells… you're right. But gods, let's be quick about it. This cold's killing us faster than the dead."
Another grunted in agreement. "Aye. Wights we can kill. This frost? It'll gut us slow."
Jon's mouth curved into the barest hint of a smile.
"Right then. Let's move."
They set off again, deeper into the forest. The ground became treacherous snow giving way to churned earth and splintered wood. Trees lay toppled in all directions, their trunks shattered as if some great storm had ripped through them. Roots jutted out from torn soil, and the scent of raw earth mixed with the iron bite of the cold.
"Gods be good," one ranger whispered, staring at the devastation.
They climbed over a tangle of fallen branches, then stopped short. Before them lay a gouged scar in the land itself, the snow melted to reveal frozen soil and jagged stone. And there, at its heart, half-buried in ice was a beast.
A massive creature, its body locked in a prison of frost. Its wings stretched wide in deathless stillness, jagged teeth sat frozen in a snarl, and its eyes clouded by the ice still seemed to glower.
Several of the men swore outright.
"What in the name of the Seven's that?" one breathed.
Jon's eyes widened. He knew that shape. That size.
"That's…" His voice tightened. "That's Aeron's dragon."
A few of the rangers turned to him sharply.
"Bloody hell, it is," muttered one, awe and dread mingling in his tone. "What in all the hells happened here?"
Jon's gaze didn't leave the frozen beast. "Spread out. See if there's anyone trapped in the ice with it."
Some hesitated, the weight of that command heavy in the charged air.
"You want us to walk up to that thing?" one asked, his voice thin.
"You've faced worse. Move." Jon's tone left no room for argument.
"Not worse than this!"
They walked closer, one knelt beside the dragon's massive head, peering into the blue-tinted depths of the ice. After a moment, he called out.
"Nothing here, Just the beast's mean mug staring back at us."
Jon exhaled slowly, relief hidden behind the fog of his breath.
*"Good. Best not be Aeron in there…" he murmured to himself. Then louder, "Right. Time to..."
The words froze in his mouth.
A new cold had fallen over them. Not the already chill of the forest or the bite of the wind, but something else far more chilling. It slid under their furs, sank into bone and marrow. The kind of cold that made their breath harder to take.
One ranger shivered violently, his teeth chattering. "This… this ain't right."
The mist thickened, swallowing everything. Somewhere, beyond the veil, the sound of cracking ice echoed, and it got closer and closer.
Jon's hand tightened around Longclaw's hilt. His breath hung in front of him as he saw something approaching.
"It's time to go back.."he said quietly. "Now!" He added firmly.
/-\
If you Like this story! Check out my other stories! Shadow Monarch in DC
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