The wolf moved at a steady lope, eating away the leagues of the frozen far North. For Benjen, the surroundings passed by in a blur of muted greys and sharp greens. Ever since the creature's attack and the subsequent mystical and terrifying events, his mind was struggling. The screams were the worst part. He could still hear his trusted guards, his men, being slaughtered one by one. Upon that was the niggling sensation inside his head. It was as if his perception had stretched and warped to adapt to the new reality he found himself in. Memories that were not in his mind, but in his blood, were awakening.

The ride was thankfully long, allowing him to get a sort of handle on his sanity. The wolf reached a grove in the forest and slowed. Benjen was shaken out of his reverie, and looked around. This grove was different than the others, for all the trees within were weirwoods. In the center, he could see an enormous heart tree, towering over the rest.

Its gnarled roots shuddered as the wolf approached, and shifted to create an opening. The tunnel went deep into the earth, with no light to discern its depth. The wolf calmly walked down into the hole, Benjen still lying on its back. Whether they walked in that darkness for minutes or hours Benjen could not tell. They came to a large chamber, with glowing green stones inside casting a soft glow on them. The wolf finally stopped, and Benjen slid off.

In front of him were the roots of the tree, forming a sort of throne on the cavern floor. Upon, or more accurately, within the throne was a man. The roots pierced his body and his face was a mass of wrinkles and white blonde hair. His sharp gaze was focused intently on Benjen, as if waiting for him to speak first. "It's you." said Bejen. "The one from vision Eddard and I shared." That had been a harrowing experience. The vision had come out of nowhere, as he was walking to the hall for his meal. He had found himself with Eddard and saw his father, only to feel himself turning into corpse and falling apart. Only when Eddard had told him of his experience had he understood.

"Yes. It is I. You and your brother nearly left it too late to find me. Though I suppose he is busy elsewhere at the moment."

"What does all this mean? And who exactly are you?" asked Bejen.

"I am the three eyed raven, though it was not always so. I was once Brynden Rivers, or as people referred to me, Bloodraven.

"That's impossible! You must be over a hundred."

"Young Stark you do not yet know what is possible, especially with the song changed as it is."

"Why did you call us here then? Why not tell us. Or my brother everything in the vision itself." The man laughed, and it sounded more akin to dry leaves scraping across the ground.

"You believe it so simple? If I could do that I would have. However the world of spirits and shadows does not bend to the whims of men. Even beyond its normal difficulty, there are forces that seek our destruction that can even interfere there." A chill seemed to sweep through the cavern, though there was no source for wind.

"The dead ones" said Benjen. "The enemy comes." He shook his head, unaware of where those words sprang from.

"I see you feel it as well. Even their mere mention can stir their power. Before there was almost no hope at all for the world as you know it. Now there is a chance."

"A chance for what?"

"A chance for the living to once more vanquish their ancient foes. It will not be simple however. The unleashing of forgotten powers has rejuvenated the power of the old gods it is true. Yet not all that returned was benign. Wretched things, from a forgotten age have come back to haunt humanity."

"The Creature that killed my men. Was it one of them?"

"Yes it was. It is what your people now refer to as a snark." Benjen snorted with helpless laughter.

"Are you saying that my entire guard was killed by a children's tale?"

"It is no tale. It and others of its ilk will soon descend upon humanity everywhere. The legacies of your ancestors are holding for now, but they too will soon fall or be rendered useless."

"The wall?"

"That is the most visible one. There are others scattered throughout the world. They are weak however, and will not hold the tide long."

"What can we do? It seems the awakening only made things worse." Benjen said, his head tilted downwards in despair. The wolf snarled from behind startling him upright. He turned to look at it and saw that it was looking at him intently.

"Not so young one." said the three eyed raven. "The awakening has revitalized the old gods, who will do their utmost to aid the living. That is their will, that the light and peace not be snuffed out by all sides of this conflict have received new strength, humanity has received the most."

"All right so even if the old gods help us, how? How can we win when we have lost so much knowledge?"

"Knowledge can be rediscovered. You and your brother must visit the dead. The fallen ancestors who hold the knowledge you need." At first, Bejen was confused. Then he realized it. "The crypts! But wait, why can't you tell me all I need to know right now?"

"Even I have my limits. The knowledge there is guarded on more planes than this one. I cannot access it but you can."

"Very well. What of these wildlings? They are led by a sorcerer and must be stopped."

"They are merely a diversion and a first blow by the enemy. You will be busy and weakened while they grow ever stronger. You must warn Eddard and face the threat. He will be prepared for it."

"One last question. Why were the old gods so weakened in the first place?"

"That is something only they can tell you. The answer is clouded from my sight."

Benjen shrugged and turned towards the wolf, who was sitting quietly behind him. "I don't suppose you can give me a ride straight to winterfell."

"Your companion will take you where you need to be." With that, bloodraven faded into the tree roots signaling the end of their meeting. The wolf approached benjen once more, and gestured him. Benjen mounted it and it ran out of the cavern and towards their next destination. Benjen could do nothing but hang on, trusting it would take him to the right place.

After 3 days of constant travel, they arrived near the bridge of skulls. The Gorge loomed below them, filled with fog. It seemed to each down endlessly, all the way to the hells which were now spewing their guts back into the world of the living. Benjen looked at the ridge north of the gorge and saw that the wildling army too had made it.

"Too many." thought Benjen. "Far too many for the watch, though an easier fight for the northern houses. What is so special about this wildling band?"

From his vantage point, he could see that there were about a hundred rangers holding one end of the bridge. They had set up defenses that would offset the overwhelming numbers the wildlings possesed. As he watched, the wildling army at last began to march across the bridge. In the lead was a man with a staff, riding unhurriedly. The entire advance felt wrong. There was no screaming or wild charging, just a slow simple march. The rangers began to fire as the army came in range. The arrows whistled as the flew towards their targets. Just as they were about to hit, the man in the lead raised his staff. The arrows were pushed back by an icy wind, some ven hitting the archers who shot them. Winds and snow lie a blizzard flew forward from the staff and blasted away the watchmen on the bridge. Without losing a single man the army crossed the bridge.

"Damn," thought Benjen. "A sorcerer."

He waited until he the entire army had crossed and then got back on the wolf. It loped across the bridge and turned towards winterfell, going around the wildling camp that had been set up a few miles into Stark lands. Benjen couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched though he was miles away from the wildling camp. He resisted the urge to look back. Back in the wildling camp, the king beyond the wall frowned as he watched the Benjen ride away.