While Ragnar clung to Thorson’s limp body, farther down beneath the Wall, the barn owl twisted and flapped its wings as though trying to cast out the sudden intrusion into its mind.
The struggle went on for quite a while until, suddenly, the bird leapt into the sky and took flight.
Ragnar swore beneath his breath.
All he could do now was hope the boy won that battle for dominance.
He had heard stories.
Stories about skinchangers who tried to invade an animal’s mind only to lose control and become trapped forever inside a body that was not their own, a slave to another creature.
All he could do now was wait.
High up in the Frostfangs, the barn owl hooted madly into the night.
Inside the owl’s mind, Thorson fought desperately to calm the bird down, but whatever approach he tried only seemed to agitate it further.
Perhaps an owl was not the creature he should have begun exploring his warging abilities with.
The creature was strong-willed and did not take kindly to the intrusion.
Was it even aware of what was happening?
Thorson wondered.
Calm down, he thought.
I mean you no harm.
But the bird did not seem to understand.
It soared straight toward the cliffs, only swerving away at the very last moment.
It was clear the bird was struggling to balance between the two minds.
Thorson tried to remember what he had done the first time he had warged into the raven that had shown him the Wall.
There was little he could recall.
The first time had been completely beyond his control.
Both he and the raven had been subject to another force, one that Thorson still did not understand.
Once again the owl pulled out of a dive, narrowly avoiding the mountainside before swerving away at the last instant.
Thorson cursed, beginning to panic.
What would happen if the bird died while he was still trapped inside its mind?
Would he awaken in his own body?
Or would his own life end with the bird’s?
He did not want to find out.
He forced himself to calm down.
Maybe he had been doing all of this wrong.
No creature could share one mind and still have two separate wills fighting for control.
The balance had to be restored.
If peace was to be reached, Thorson had to stop existing as something separate and become the whole.
At least, that was what he believed.
And he was almost certain he was right.
That was exactly what he had felt the first time he had entered the raven.
He had been the raven.
Not a part of it.
The raven had been him.
He forced his thoughts to grow quiet and drift into the background.
At first he simply waited.
Until now, he had only been aware of the bird’s instincts and reactions.
Now he willed himself to truly see through the owl’s eyes.
Silence lingered for several moments before a faint spark of light pierced the darkness.
Slowly it grew brighter until, all at once, he was seeing completely through the owl’s eyes.
He quickly suppressed the excitement rising within him.
He could not afford to lose control now.
Gradually he took command of the rest of the owl’s body until he was completely the bird, and the bird was him.
That was when Thorson realized how remarkable an owl truly was.
Its eyes pierced the darkness, spotting even the smallest movement beneath the snow.
Its ears, hidden beneath soft white feathers, caught the faintest sounds from the farthest reaches of the mountain as though they were only a few paces away.
Slowly, using the owl’s senses, Thorson turned its wings and glided silently back south toward where they had come from.
He felt the wind slip beneath his feathers and lift him effortlessly into the night.
He was flying.
It hardly even felt like flying.
It felt as though he was simply floating upon the wind, barely needing to flap his wings.
It was the greatest feeling Thorson had ever experienced.
The feeling of complete freedom.
Complete control.
Complete power.
Up here he could see everything.
He could hear everything.
For the first time in his life, he felt as though nothing lay beyond his reach.
A few moments later he spotted Ragnar and his own body farther down beside the Milkwater.
But that was not where he guided the owl.
Silently he glided onward before landing almost without a sound upon the far end of the battlements.
One of the men, the ranger they had seen taking the first watch, was still pacing restlessly along the Wall.
A moment later he turned and headed back.
Thorson did not need to move.
From where he perched, he could see the entire battlement and the stairway leading down into the fortress.
The man’s companion sat beside a brazier tucked behind the battlements.
He was younger than the other man and looked only a little older than Thorson himself.
The older ranger finally gave up pacing and walked toward the fire.
“Move over, boy.
Seven hells, my toes have gone completely numb…
It’s your watch now.”
He lowered himself onto the stool beside the brazier and stretched his trembling hands toward the flames.
“What?
Already?
It is barely midnight.
You are cheating.”
The older man did not even bother denying it.
“You are out of your wits if you think I am freezing my stones off until midnight.
Go pace the Wall.”
The younger man looked at him begrudgingly.
“You have just come from pacing it.
A little longer, then I will go,” he said, equally spreading his hands over the fire.
The older ranger fixed him with a hard stare.
“Get yourself up, boy.
What do you think will happen if the castle commander finds out neither of us was keeping watch?
I have no wish to end up in the ice cells because of you.”
The young man sighed and climbed to his feet.
He slung his bow over his shoulder, still muttering.
“I should not even be here.
We freeze ourselves to death.
And for what?…
Meanwhile the Lord Commander sits warm in Castle Black, likely drinking spiced wine.”
Thorson did not have to strain.
The owl’s ears caught every word.
“What of it?” the older ranger scoffed.
“The Old Bear is Lord Commander.
If you have a grievance about how he enjoys his privileges, you can take it to him tomorrow.”
The younger crow looked toward where the older man had come from but made no move.
“What are we even watching for?…
The Halfhand and his rangers are scattered all across the mountains.
Any wildling would be dead long before reaching the Bridge of Skulls.”
The older man laughed.
“Not for a few nights.
The Halfhand sent word.
He and his rangers have gone north, tracking a band of wildlings.”
“What?…
Why?”
“How should I know?” the older man growled.
“Rumour has it Mance has united the largest host of wildlings anyone has ever seen.
They say he even has giants fighting beside him.”
The younger man’s face grew even paler.
“Mance Rayder?…
The crow who deserted the Watch?”
The older ranger eyed him coldly.
“How many traitor crows do you know that still breathe?”
The younger ranger remained silent.
“How many moons have you been here, boy?” the older man persisted.
“Nine.”
“Aye, a little longer and you will learn to think with your head instead of your cock.”
“What has my cock got to do with it?”
“Everything,” the older man said with a grin.
“Is it not the reason you are here?”
“I told you I never forced myself on Jenn.”
“They framed me.”
The older ranger shrugged.
“Nobody here cares.
You were judged guilty and you chose the Wall instead of the headsman’s axe.”
“But I never did it.
I should have married Jenn.
Right now I would be asleep beside her in a warm bed.”
The young man smiled wistfully as though he could already visualize his dream.
The older ranger snorted.
“Careful now.
You should throw that dream out of your head before your little worm starts wriggling.
The closest women here are the whores in Mole’s Town, or a spear through your chest from a wildling spearwife.”
“I would take the spear happily,” the young man said, and the older crow shook his head as if finally giving up on the younger man’s fantasies.
“You might just get your wish if you don’t man your post.
The last man who let wildlings slip through the Bridge did not enjoy the gift the Old Bear gave him.”
The younger ranger sighed, tightened the strap of his bow, and returned to the battlements.
The older ranger chuckled behind him.
“Who knows?
Perhaps some wildlings have learned the Halfhand is away.
Maybe we will get to put a few arrows through a spearwife after all.”