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r bellies。 〃Bloody crows；〃 he called them； but he'd fed them too； meager though the fare might be。
We are guests； Sam reminded himself。 Gilly is his。 His daughter； his wife。 His roof； his rule。
The first time he'd seen Craster's Keep； Gilly had e begging for help； and Sam had lent her his black cloak to conceal her belly when she went to find Jon Snow。 Knights are supposed to defend women and children。 Only a few of the black brothers were knights； but even so 。 。 。 We all say the words； Sam thought。 I am the shield that guards the realms of men。 A woman was a woman； even a wildling woman。 We should help her。 We should。 It was her child Gilly feared for； she was frightened that it might be a boy。 Craster raised up his daughters to be his wives； but there were neither men nor boys to be seen about his pound。 Gilly had told Jon that Craster gave his sons to the gods。 If the gods are good； they will send her a daughter； Sam prayed。
Up in the loft； Gilly choked back a scream。 〃That's it；〃 a woman said。 〃Another push； now。 Oh； I see his head。〃
Hers； Sam thought miserably。 Her head； hers。
〃Cold；〃 said Barmen； weakly。 〃Please。 I'm so cold。〃 Sam put the bowl and spoon aside； tossed another fur across the dying man； put another stick on the fire。 Gilly gave a shriek； and began to pant。 Craster gnawed on his hard black sausage。 He had sausages for himself and his wives； he said； but none for the Watch。 〃Women；〃 he plained。 〃The way they wail 。 。 。 I had me a fat sow once birthed a litter of eight with no more'n a grunt。〃 Chewing； he turned his head to squint contemptuously at Sam。 〃She was near as fat as you； boy。 Slayer。〃 He laughed。
It was more than Sam could stand。 He stumbled away from the firepit； stepping awkwardly over and around the men sleeping and squatting and dying upon the hard…packed earthen floor。 The smoke and screams and moans were making him feel faint。 Bending his head； he pushed through the hanging deerhide flaps that served Craster for a door and stepped out into the afternoon。
The day was cloudy； but still bright enough to blind him after the gloom of the hall。 Some patches of snow weighed down the limbs of surrounding trees and blanketed the gold and russet hills； but fewer than there had been。 The storm had passed on； and the days at Craster's Keep had been 。 。 。 well； not warm perhaps； but not so bitter cold。 Sam could hear the soft drip…drip…drip of water melting off the icicles that bearded the edge of the thick sod roof。 He took a deep shuddering breath and looked around。
To the west Ollo Lophand and Tim Stone were moving through the horselines； feeding and watering the remaining garrons。
Downwind； other brothers were skinning and butchering the animals deemed too weak to go on。 Spearmen and archers walked sentry behind the earthen dikes that were Craster's only defense against whatever hid in the wood beyond； while a dozen firepits sent up thick fingers of blue…grey smoke。 Sam could hear the distant echoes of axes at work in the forest； where a work detail was harvesting enough wood to keep the blazes burning all through the night。 Nights were the bad time。 When it got dark。 And cold。
There had been no attacks while they had been at Craster's； neither wights nor Others。 Nor would there be； Craster said。 〃A godly man got no cause to fear such。 I said as much to that Mance Rayder once； when he e sniffing round。 He never listened； no more'n you crows with your swords and your bloody fires。 That won't help you none when the white cold es。 Only the gods will help you then。 You best get right with the gods。〃
Gilly had spoken of the white cold as well； and she'd told them what sort of offerings Craster made to his gods。 Sam had wanted to kill him when he heard。 There are no laws beyond the Wall； he reminded himself； and Craster's a friend to the Watch。
A ragged shout went up from behind the daub…and…wattle hall。 Sam went to take a look。 The ground beneath his feet was a slush of melting snow and soft mud that Dolorous Edd insisted was made of Craster's shit。 It was thicker than shit； though； it sucked at Sam's boots so hard he felt one pull loose。
Back of a vegetable garden and empty sheepfold； a dozen black brothers were loosing arrows at a butt they'd built of hay and straw。 The slender blond steward they called Sweet Donnel had laid a shaft just off the bull's eye at fifty yards。 〃Best that； old man；〃 he said。
〃Aye。 I will。〃 Ulmer； stooped and grey…bearded and loose of skin and limb； stepped to the mark and pulled an arrow from the quiver at his waist。 In his youth he had been an outlaw； a member of the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood。 He claimed he'd once put an arrow through the hand of the White Bull of the Kingsguard to steal a kiss from the lips of a Dornish princess。 He had stolen her jewels too； and a chest of golden dragons； but it was the kiss he liked to boast of in his cups。
He notched and drew； all smooth as summer silk； then let fly。 His shaft struck the butt an inch inside of Donnel Hill's。 〃Will that do； lad？〃 he asked； stepping back。
〃Well enough；〃 said the younger man； grudgingly。 〃The crosswind helped you。 It blew more strongly when I loosed。〃
〃You ought to have allowed for it； then。 You have a good eye and a steady hand； but you'll need a deal more to best a man of the kingswood。 Fletcher Dick it was who showed me how to bend the bow； and no finer archer ever lived。 Have I told you about old Dick； now？〃
〃Only three hundred times。〃 Every man at Castle Black had heard Ulmer's tales of the great outlaw band of yore； of Simon Toyne and the Smiling Knight； Oswyn Longneck the Thrice…Hanged； Wenda the White Fawn； Fletcher Dick； Big Belly Ben； and all the rest。 Searching for escape； Sweet Donnel looked about and spied Sam standing in the muck。 〃Slayer；〃 he called。 〃e； show us how you slew the Other。〃 He held out the tall yew longbow。
Sam turned red。 〃It wasn't an arrow； it was a dagger； dragonglass 。 。 。
He knew what would happen if he took the bow。 He would miss the butt and send the arrow sailing over the dike off into the trees。 Then he'd hear the laughter。
〃No matter；〃 said Alan of Rosby； another fine bowman。 〃We're all keen to see the Slayer shoot。 Aren't we； lads？〃
He could not face them； the mocking smiles； the mean little jests； the contempt in their eyes。 Sam turned to go back the way he'd e； but his right foot sank deep in the muck； and when he tried to pull it out his boot came off。 He had to kneel to wrench it free； laughter ringing in his ears。 Despite all his socks； the snowmelt had soaked through to his toes by the time he made his escape。 Useless； he thought miserably。 My father saw me true。 I have no right to be alive when so many brave men are dead。
Grenn was tending the firepit south of the pound gate； stripped to the waist as he split logs。 His face was red with exertion； the sweat steaming off his skin。 But he grinned as Sam came chuffing up。 〃The Others get your boot； Slayer？〃
Him too？ 〃It was the mud。 Please don't call me that。〃
〃Why not？〃 Grenn sounded honestly puzzled。 〃It's a good name； and you came by it fairly。〃
Pyp always teased Grenn about being thick as a castle wall； so Sam explained patiently。 〃It's just a different way of calling me a coward；〃 he said； standing on his left leg and wriggling back into his muddy boot。 〃They're mocking me； the same way they mock Bedwyck by calling him 'Giant。〃'
〃He's not a giant； though；〃 said Grenn； 〃and Paul was never small。 Well； maybe when he was a babe at the breast； but not after。 You did slay the Other； though； so it's not the same。〃
〃I just 。 。 。 I never 。 。 。 I was seared！〃
〃No more than me。 It's only Pyp who says I'm too dumb to be frightened。 I get as frightened as anyone。〃 Grenn bent to scoop up a split log； and tossed it into the fire。 〃I used to be scared of Jon； whenever I had to fight him。 He was so quick； and he fought like he meant to kill me。〃 The green damp wood sat in the flames； smoking before it took fire。 〃I never said； though。 Sometimes I think everyone is just pretending to be brave； and none of us really are。 Maybe pretending is how you get brave； I don't know。 Let them call you Slayer； who cares？〃
〃You never liked Ser Alliser to call you Aurochs。〃
〃He was saying I was big and stupid。〃 Grenn scratched at his beard。 〃If Pyp wanted to call me Aurochs； though； he could。 Or you； or Jon。 An aurochs is a fierce strong beast； so that's not so bad； and I am big； and getting bigger。 Wouldn't you rather be Sam the Slayer than Ser Piggy？〃
〃Why can't I just be Samwell Tarly？〃 He sat down heavily on a wet log that Grenn had yet to split。 〃It was the dragonglass that slew it。 Not me； the dragonglass。〃
He had told them。 He had told them all。 Some of them didn't believe him； he knew。 Dirk had shown Sam his dirk and said； 〃I got iron； what do I want with glass？〃 Black Bernarr and the three Garths made it plain that they doubted his whole story； and Rolley of Sisterton came right out and said； 〃More like you stabbed some rustling bushes and it turned out to be Small Paul taking a shit； so you came up with a lie。〃
But Dywen listened； and Dolorous Edd； and they made Sam and Grenn tell the Lord mander。 Mormont frowned all through the tale and a