The Bastard Wolf: Reborn Chapter 6 – The Wildling War
Jon Snow stood at the Wall's edge, staring out into the wilderness beyond. The air was thick with the scent of blood and frost, and the night was coming fast. The last few days had felt like a dream, with everything shifting under his feet. The undead were no longer stories. They were real. And with that knowledge came a heavy weight—one Jon wasn't sure he could carry alone.
His eyes darted to the distant line of trees, the edge of the forest that stretched for miles. Somewhere beyond that, the Wildlings were stirring. Jon had heard the whispers. The rumors of a new king among the Free Folk. Mance Rayder, they called him.
He'd met men like him before. Outcasts. Rebels. The kind of men who would burn the world down just to see what it was made of.
And Jon? He was already burned. He could smell the smoke.
---
That morning, Jon had found the Lord Commander in his chambers, looking older than Jon remembered, his hand gripping a map of the north.
"Benjen's still missing," Jeor Mormont said, not looking up. "The scouts have reported signs of Wildling movement. They've seen fires in the distance, too many to be anything but an army."
Jon didn't flinch. "The Wildlings are preparing for war."
"They've always prepared for war," Mormont replied, his voice like a sigh. "But now... it's different. The dead are walking."
Jon leaned over the map. "How many are we talking?"
Mormont met his eyes. "Too many. But we can't wait for the Wall to fall. We need to move. Before they find us."
Jon nodded, his mind already racing. "We'll need every sword we can find."
"You're one of the few who can lead them," Jeor said, his eyes narrowing. "But you're not yet a commander. And there's a lot of blood to be shed before you can call yourself that."
Jon straightened. "Then let's get started."
---
The next day, Jon gathered a small group of men—Grenn, Pyp, and Sam were among them—and set out beyond the Wall, through the thick trees. Ghost ran ahead, ears alert. The wind was biting, and the further they went, the quieter the world became.
"Do you think they'll fight us?" Sam asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Wildlings, I mean."
Jon looked back, his breath forming a cloud in the cold air. "They won't fight us unless they have to. They're desperate, not stupid. But I'm not here to talk."
"Then what are we doing?" Grenn asked, his large frame casting a shadow on the snow.
Jon kept walking, his mind focused on the future. "We find them before they find us. We can't let them get close to the Wall. Not with the dead at their back."
---
The first Wildlings they encountered were barely more than shadows in the snow—figures that moved with the wind, blending into the night like ghosts. Jon's heart raced, but he stayed calm. He knew better than to make a move too quickly.
The Wildlings didn't want to fight, not yet. They were on the run, their faces drawn and cold, their eyes full of suspicion. Jon's sword was sheathed, and he kept his hands visible.
"Who's in charge here?" Jon called out.
A man stepped forward, his face as rough as the rocks around them. His eyes were wild, but there was a hint of weariness behind them.
"I am," the man said. "Mance Rayder's my king. Who the hell are you?"
Jon kept his tone even. "Jon Snow. I've been sent by the Night's Watch. We're preparing for something bigger than either of us."
The man's expression didn't change. "And why would we trust you?"
Jon stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "Because I've seen what's coming. And I don't want to die in the snow any more than you do."
For a long moment, the Wildling just stared at him. Then, with a sharp nod, he motioned for his people to step aside.
"We'll listen to you, Snow," he said. "But don't think for a second that we're your allies. We don't make deals with the likes of you."
Jon said nothing. He didn't need to. There was an understanding there—a cold, unspoken bond that came with the knowledge of what they were up against.
---
That night, Jon sat by the fire, listening to the soft murmurs of the Wildlings around him. They were a ragged bunch, hungry and desperate, but they weren't foolish. They had their own songs, their own stories.
And Jon? Jon had something else.
He stood up, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders. The fire crackled behind him as he began to sing, low and steady:
"A king is born in fire… and in the cold, he'll die."
The Wildlings stopped talking. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"But what's a crown to a man who's already died?"
Jon's voice carried through the night, raw and powerful. It was a song from his past life, but it felt more true now than ever.
"I've been here before… I'll be here again."
"I'll rise again… rise again…"
The fire crackled louder as Jon finished, his heart pounding. The Wildlings didn't move, didn't speak for a long while.
Finally, the leader—the one who had spoken before—gave a nod.
"You're a strange one, Snow," he said.
Jon smiled, but it was a cold smile. "I'm not here to make friends."
---
The next day, Jon led the Wildlings to a remote cave he had known as a child, a place where he and his father used to hunt. The walls were cold stone, but they would offer shelter from the coming storm.
It was time to prepare for war.
---
Back at Castle Black, word had spread that Jon Snow had returned with the Wildlings. The Brothers of the Night's Watch were wary of the alliance, but there was little time to question it. The dead were coming.
Jon didn't have time for politics.
"I don't care what they think," he told Sam, his voice low and fierce. "I'm not here to follow orders. I'm here to make sure we don't die. You get that?"
Sam nodded, but he looked uneasy. "But you can't just lead them all, Jon. You don't have the power. You don't have the title."
Jon turned to him, his eyes burning. "Power? Title? Those are the things that get people killed."
---
First Person
I've lived through worse. I know what it's like to be counted out.
But I'm still standing.
And I'll burn the world down if it means I get to stand longer.
The Wildlings, the Watch, the dead—they don't scare me. They'll all be a footnote when I'm done.
It's time to show them who's really in charge.
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End of Chapter 6