A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

“
Snow
,” it screamed at him. “
Snow, snow
.” Then it opened its wings and flew away.
    No sooner had he started out than a lone rider emerged from the wildling camp and came toward him. He wondered if Mance was coming out to parley in no-man’s-land.
That might make it easier, though nothing will make it easy
. But as the distance between them diminished Jon saw that the horseman was short and broad, with gold rings glinting on thick arms and a white beard spreading out across his massive chest.
    â€œ
Har!
” Tormund boomed when they came together. “Jon Snow the crow. I feared we’d seen the last o’ you.”
    â€œI never knew you feared anything, Tormund.”
    That made the wildling grin. “Well said, lad. I see your cloak is black. Mance won’t like that. If you’ve come to change sides again, best climb back on that Wall o’ yours.”
    â€œThey’ve sent me to treat with the King-beyond-the-Wall.”
    â€œTreat?” Tormund laughed. “Now there’s a word. Har! Mance wants to talk, that’s true enough. Can’t say he’d want to talk with
you
, though.”
    â€œI’m the one they’ve sent.”
    â€œI see that. Best come along, then. You want to ride?”
    â€œI can walk.”
    â€œYou fought us hard here.” Tormund turned his garron back toward the wildling camp. “You and your brothers. I give you that. Two hundred dead, and a dozen giants. Mag himself went in that gate o’ yours and never did come out.”
    â€œHe died on the sword of a brave man named Donal Noye.”
    â€œAye? Some great lord was he, this Donal Noye? One of your shiny knights in their steel smallclothes?”
    â€œA blacksmith. He only had one arm.”
    â€œA one-armed smith slew Mag the Mighty? Har! That must o’ been a fight to see. Mance will make a song of it, see if he don’t.” Tormund took a waterskin off his saddle and pulled the cork. “This will warm us some. To Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.” He took a swing, and handed it down to Jon.
    â€œTo Donal Noye, and Mag the Mighty.” The skin was full of mead, but a mead so potent that it made Jon’s eyes water and sent tendrils of fire snaking through his chest. After the ice cell and the cold ride down in the cage, the warmth was welcome.
    Tormund took the skin back and downed another swig, then wiped his mouth. “The Magnar of Thenn swore t’us that he’d have the gate wide open, so all we’d need to do was stroll through singing. He was going to bring the whole Wall down.”
    â€œHe brought down part,” Jon said. “On his head.”
    â€œHar!” said Tormund. “Well, I never had much use for Styr. When a man’s got no beard nor hair nor ears, you can’t get a good grip on him when you fight.” He kept his horse at a slow walk so Jon could limp beside him. “What happened to that leg?”
    â€œAn arrow. One of Ygritte’s, I think.”
    â€œThat’s a woman for you. One day she’s kissing you, the next she’s filling you with arrows.”
    â€œShe’s dead.”
    â€œAye?” Tormund gave a sad shake of the head. “A waste. If I’d been ten years younger, I’d have stolen her meself. That hair she had. Well, the hottest fires burn out quickest.” He lifted the skin of mead. “To Ygritte, kissed by fire!” He drank deep.
    â€œTo Ygritte, kissed by fire,” Jon repeated when Tormund handed him back the skin. He drank even deeper.
    â€œWas it you killed her?”
    â€œMy brother.” Jon had never learned which one, and hoped he never would.
    â€œYou bloody crows.” Tormund’s tone was gruff, yet strangely gentle. “That Longspear stole me daughter. Munda, me little autumn apple. Took her right out o’ my tent with all four o’ her brothers about. Toregg slept through it, the great lout, and Torwynd . . . well, Torwynd the Tame, that says all that needs saying, don’t it? The young ones gave the lad a fight, though.”
    â€œAnd Munda?” asked Jon.
    â€œShe’s my own blood,” said Tormund proudly. “She broke his lip for him and bit one ear half off, and I hear he’s got so many scratches on his back he can’t wear a cloak. She likes him well enough, though. And why not? He don’t fight with no spear, you know. Never has. So where do