Lord Jorah Mormont stood near the edge of Castle Black, gazing out at the immense Wall that stretched endlessly into the distance. The cold wind bit at his cheeks, reminding him that winter was ever-present in the North. He was deep in thought when Qhorin Halfhand, one of the most seasoned rangers of the Night's Watch, approached him.

"Lord Jorah, the men are ready for the journey, and so far, our scouts haven't found any troubling signs," Qhorin said, his voice weathered from years spent beyond the Wall.

"Aye! I will have my soldiers ready too," Jorah replied, turning to face Qhorin.

Jorah then set out to find Ser Elros and his men, leaving Qhorin to contemplate the lord's character.

Qhorin admired Jorah for his lack of arrogance, a rare trait among highborn lords. He didn't treat the men of the Night's Watch as inferior, nor did he display any contempt for their vows. What impressed Qhorin the most was the fire that burned within Jorah, a passion for something greater than himself, a quality sorely lacking in the frigid North.

Castle Black stood tall and imposing, its ancient stones and blackened timbers a testament to its long history. Qhorin, being stationed at the Shadow Tower, which was nearer to the Bay of Ice, often received supplies from Bear Island.

This connection had brought him closer to Lord Jeor Mormont, Jorah's father, and he saw a reflection of the old bear in Jorah's leadership.

Qhorin felt that the men of Bear Island had become sharper and more disciplined, much like a well-honed sword.

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"Elros, are the men ready?" Jorah inquired as he approached Elros.

"Aye, M'Lord. They are ready to go. Plus, a few men from Winterfell are eager to earn their keep," Elros replied promptly.

"Good. We can't waste precious sunlight. Have them all up and ready. We will leave with the men of the Night's Watch," Jorah ordered, before heading back to his room to don his armour and take his sword.

Even though rangers found everything to be normal outside the wall, this can change any second when the large army of 'crows' invades the land outside the wall.

The trees might be an obstacle for the Night's Watch, but they also provided cover for the wildlings, who were planning to cross the Wall to raid for wives or food.

After getting everything in order, Jorah walked out and found everyone was already on top of their horses and men were waiting for him and the other leaders.

With everything in order, Jorah emerged to find everyone already mounted on their horses, waiting for him and the other leaders. He took his place at the front, joined by Qhorin and Ser Alliser, who were leading the Night's Watch outside the Wall.

They had sent black robes and vests to the soldiers of Bear Island to confuse the wildlings about their numbers, a move Jorah agreed with to show force outside the Wall and deter wildling trouble.

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After all, the show of force is necessary outside the wall, and he can't have wildings trouble his old man regularly.

The group set off slowly towards the main gate, a massive wooden door taller than most castles, secured with monstrous pulleys and chains.

From inside Castle Black, the Wall didn't appear too extraordinary, but once one stepped out beyond the gates, its true majesty revealed itself. The Wall itself was a marvel to behold. It loomed over everything, an impenetrable barrier separating the realm of men from the wild and untamed lands beyond. It stood as a bulwark against the dangers lurking in the haunted forests and icy plains that stretched to the far horizon.

The enormity of the structure, rising like an eternal monolith, made even the bravest hearts tremble. Stark magic was said to flow through its ancient stones, making it a structure beyond human capabilities, a testament to the power of the First Men.

Jorah keeping these things to himself walked out and together with Ser Alliser and Qhorin's team as they moved towards the haunted forest. There were a couple of riders in front to check for any welding and so far, the journey was smooth.

"Is it just me or has it suddenly become colder outside?" Jorah who felt the temperature suddenly dropped asked Ser Alliser.

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Ser Alliser nodded, his breath visible in the crisp air. "The Wall has a way of doing that, M'Lord. They say it's the magic that keeps the cold at bay within the castle walls. But beyond this point, it's just us and the ice."

They pressed on, the icy winds brushing against their faces. Jorah couldn't help but think about the purpose of the Wall. It was not just a physical barrier; it represented a vow, a sacred duty sworn by the men of the Night's Watch to protect the realm from whatever lay beyond.

"Oh, you underestimate him, Lord Jorah. If there's a man who can survive for ten years outside the Wall and return on his own, he shouldn't be judged by common sense. Anyone who thinks they can claim Qhorin's head is either a fool or a dead man," Ser Alliser assured, shedding light on Qhorin's exceptional abilities.

Travelling about a mile further, the group dismounted and formed teams. Some kept watch on the perimeter while others wielded their axes to chop down trees. Jorah, however, continued toward a large weirwood tree he spotted in the distance. It was an enormous, ancient weirwood with a trunk nearly eight feet wide and sprawling branches.

Against the snowy backdrop, the tree's red leaves held an air of mystery and a splash of colour. It felt alive amidst the frozen land, a symbol of faith.

"I don't know what it is about the men in the North and these weirwood trees. Many of our men come here to pray sometimes. Be careful, the village is just around the tree," Ser Alliser warned, catching up to Jorah.

"These trees are a symbol of faith, Ser Alliser. Before the migration of Andals from Essos, there were the Children of the Forest, giants, the First Men and the weirwood trees.When the Andals came and waged war, they were eventually forced to make peace with the First men, Children and giants under the power of this tree. We call it the Old God, the God of our Northerners," Jorah explained, revealing his knowledge of the local beliefs."Has your god ever responded to you?" Ser Alliser inquired.

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"Not so far. Maybe he is sleeping. Maybe angry at us for killing its children and cutting down its forest. Who knows?" Jorah didn't want to think about the gods and his faith.

When he was just a child and Ironborn raided the Bear Island, his friends lost their mothers and fathers. He cried that night and prayed, prayed for a miracle.

He prayed that the Ironborn boats would turn upside down or a lightning will fall breaking their boats, but nothing happened. If there is a god of nature, then he stopped caring about the men who prayed to it.

"Stop!"

A pair of teens suddenly emerged from the rocks in front of Jorah and Ser Alliser, interrupting their conversation and stopping them in their tracks.