m_findlow

Title: What doesn't kill you
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Characters/Pairings: Sam, Jon
Word Count: 500 words
Rating: PG
Notes: Written for Challenge 59 - Grit at anythingdrabble
Summary: Sam is struggling to keep up.

Sam trudged through the snow and the ice. His feet hurt, his back hurt, and he was cold beyond anything he could imagine, deputes his thick furs. If he'd though watch atop the Wall in the middle of the night was bitterly cold, it was nothing compared to the brutal conditions north of the Wall.

Their party had broken for camp and were busy fetching kindling for fires, sharpening swords, feeding the horses and a hundred other things that were critical. For him, just the walk to the cage of ravens and setting one on its task back to Castle Black seemed arduous.

He tied the small scroll to its foot and set it southward before slumping back against the wagon. Jon caught the look on his face and came over.

'I can't do this anymore, Jon,' he confessed. If he had to walk another step he thought he might just collapse and never get back up. Even the journey from his home north of Old Town have been less testing, thought the conditions were milder and he'd been on horseback. There weren't enough horses to go around here, and not enough to feed them in any case. He had no option but to walk, and walk he had, for mile after endless mile.

Jon gave him an unsympathetic look. 'You asked to come with us beyond the wall Sam. You’re just going to have to grit your teeth and bear it.'

'Well, to be fair, I didn’t exactly ask to come along,' he countered. 'The Lord Commander nodded someone to tend to the ravens.'

'That’s the stewards job, Sam.'

'Exactly. I’m not like you and Pip, throwing yourselves headlong into danger.'

Jon sighed. 'It's hardly been dangerous.'

'Oh, aye? And those things that make noise in the night? You’re going to tell me they’re just squirrels burrowing for nuts?'

'Well, they’re not White Walkers or none of us would be here now, so yeah, they’re probably squirrels.'

Jon's flippant comment vexed him. He might be braver than Sam but he was naive as well. 'Seriously, Jon. Have you seen a squirrel since we left Castle Black? In fact, have you seen anything living since we left?'

'We don’t exactly put up a friendly front for anything that lives up here,' Jon replied. He paused as two of their more senior brothers ambled past, a look of disdain on their faces at Jon's choice of companions. 'Look, I know you can do this, Sam. You just have to believe in yourself. You've made it this far. We'll get to Craster's and there'll be shelter and food.'

Sam gave him a despondent look. 'I'm not made for this.'

Jon rested a hand on his shoulder. 'Brothers of the Night's Watch look out for one another. You'll be fine,' he added, before walking away to attend their Lord Commander.

Jon might be looking out for him but he was sure the rest of them would gladly leave him out here to die.