You were leaning against a rock, breathless, your gaze fixed on the two men standing in front of you. One seemed pretty old. White hair, rude and nonchalant gaze. The other was right above you, gripping tightly the hem of your coat, his sword in his other hand. He seemed pretty young for a man of the Night’s Watch. For a crow. He was looking down at you harshly and coldly with his brown eyes, his black curls falling on his face as he was breathing hard. A few minutes ago, you were in the cold, with other wildlings. Until the crows discovered you, and killed them. You were the only one who survived, but it didn’t matter because they’re definitely going to kill you anyways. The young one spoke, his voice deep and harsh, his northern accent pretty much audible. « What’s your name. »