Do you think your brother's war is more important than ours? the old man barked.
Jon chewed his lip. The raven flapped its wings at him. "War, war, war, war," it sang.
It's not, Mormont told him. "Gods save us, boy, you're not blind and you're not stupid. When dead men come hunting in the night, do you think it matters who sits the Iron Throne?"
No. Jon had not thought of it that way.
Your lord father sent you to us, Jon. Why, who can say?
Why? Why? Why? the raven called.
All I know is that the blood of the First Men flows in the veins of the Starks. The First Men built the Wall, and it's said they remember things otherwise forgotten. And that beast of yours... he led us to the wights, warned you of the dead man on the steps. Sir Jaremy would doubtless call that happenstance, yet Sir Jaremy is dead and I'm not. Lord Mormont stabbed a chunk of ham with the point of his dagger. "I think you were meant to be here, and I want you and that wolf of yours with us when we go beyond the Wall."
His words sent a chill of excitement down Jon's back. "Beyond the Wall?"