Prologue · The Last Night of the Watch
The storm came up out of the Dark Forest the way storms always did, low and sideways, as if it had been crouching there all day and was glad to be let out.
Oswin of the Longwatch climbed into it.
He went up the Arden Oak one paw at a time, the way his grandfather had taught him: three claws in, test the bark, then move. Rain ran down the trunk in sheets. It got into his ears and under his coat and made the bark slick as river stone. Somewhere below, a shutter banged and banged.
He was old now. Old enough that his knees had opinions about every branch.
On his back he carried the lantern basket that every watcher in his family had carried before him: woven willow, darkened by seven lifetimes of paws, lined with soft wool.
In his coat pocket, wrapped in waxed leaf so the rain could not reach it, was a letter. He had written it four times. The fourth time, he had kept it short.
To the Council of the Kingdom. The Longwatch is ended.
Tomorrow, at sunrise, he would set it on the council table, and that would be that.
But tonight was still his. So he climbed.
to be continued…