.

Chapter 7

This story may not be my most popular, but it is certainly the most fun for me to write. It has the serious and somber tone of GoT clashing with the modern language and outlook of today, which in of itself is entertaining to me.

Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Westeros Has Their Magic And Fire Priests; They Better Hope It's Enough Against Giant, Titanium Beasts!

Chapter Seven: Questions And A Letter

'God fucking damn it'. Slone couldn't believe it. She was just sitting in her warm, cozy room, minding her own damned business on the IMC's pay before these Wildlings showed up near Olympus. While this was their second contact here, it really didn't mean anything, let the cannons turn 'em into paste, who cares?

But no, oh no, that'd be too convenient to expect. No, the top brass, aka fuck-heads, wanted a guide. A guide to where, though? Well, farther north, of course, and what better guide than the people who lived here? And now they had thousands to choose from because a situation came up.

With the Ark energy lighting up this planet like a miniature sun, it rendered all satellite scans and penetrative sensors properly useless. Thermal scans, energy sensors, and even fucking spectrometers couldn't pick up anything besides light. The thick clouds wouldn't even allow them to make a visual map of the area.

So here Slone was, sitting in a nice metal room that held two chairs, a not-so-normal table, and an unconscious, cuffed Wildling. After her fight with the bearded, crazy one, she opted to talk to the girl. She seemed. . . not as insane.

It's been two weeks since Slone first knocked her out, though most of that time the Wildling was spent in recovery under sedation after having been operated on for her a hefty concussion and several broken ribs before she was finally deemed fit to answer questions. And also fit to have a collar on to make sure she stays tracked and compliant.

She took off her helmet and latched it to her belt. "Fuck me," she mumbled annoyed, and looked at the camera in the top corner wall of the room. "Alright, I'm waking her up." A few officers were watching, and they have an interest in this discussion she's going to have.

Slone picked up a pale of warm water and splashed it on their prisoner. She woke up gasping, trying to stand or even roll to the side, but the chains immediately brought her back to her seat. Panting heavily, looking around warily and confused at the metal room before settling her eyes on Slone.

"Had a nice nap?" Considering how the Wildling tried lunging at her with a murderous shout, it was safe to assume she recognized her, but she was immediately forced back down again.

The girl looked at her arms, finally noticing the chains keeping her from moving too far, and somehow thought it was smart to begin shaking as much as she could to get herself free. The girl kept grunting and pulling, and while it was amusing, they had things to talk about.

Slone looked to the terminal on the bottom of her wrist and pressed a button onscreen. The girl screamed and convulsed as five-hundred volts of electricity coursed through her body. She kept it up for a second longer before letting go.

Now the girl slumped and panted tiredly after her little episode. Her head snapped to Slone, now with more of a hint of caution. In fact, she even took a look around the room, wincing slightly at the bright lights. Surely, she didn't know how she was zapped, but knew it had something to do with Slone.

"Now that you've calmed down," Slone began, set down the bucket and took the seat across from her. "Let's get down to business. You have a name?"

"None of your fucking bus-AHHH!" Another jolt of electricity from her collar shut her up.

Slone sighed as she let go of the trigger and gave the prisoner a few seconds to compose herself. "Listen, I'd love nothing more than to kill you like I did with your friends, but it's not up to me." She stood back up and leaned in over the table and gestured to her neck. "What you have there is a little something that makes sure you don't do anything stupid, as you clearly felt. So tell me your fucking name."

Oh, she didn't like that one bit, but if this girl spat on her face, Slone would electrocute her for a whole minute on the maximum safe setting. She sat there seething, seemingly trying to kill her captor with looks alone, but stayed quiet, even if she did move around her neck to take a feel on her new tight-fit necklace. Progress? Probably not.

Slone grabbed her head from her jaw and held her tight and brought her close to her face. "You don't want to tell me your name? Fine, because you're not leaving here alive until we get what we want." Her compliance, she didn't add yet. She shoved the girl to the back of her seat. "Let me show you something."

Pressing a few buttons on her wrist, the table between them came to life, and the captured Wildling gasped as the simple, grey, metal desk was something more. She could see her pupils dilate and her breathing become heavier as she watched the screen boot up.

When the screen finally settled, she gasped and the readout on Slone's wrist said the girl's heartbeat had risen sharply. The only reason she even took note of that was because the medics wanted to make sure Slone knew the state of their patient and she could hear them pestering her about it. Fucking hell.

On the table showed a drone's view from the air surveilling the large Wildling encampment of Hardhome. Slone thought she'd have to explain what they were seeing, but the look the girl's face said that wasn't needed.

"That's right, girl, motherfucking Hardhome. Yeah, we know where all of you live," Slone said matter-of-factly as she leaned back in her seat. The chick didn't move her eyes, she kept shifting between every pixel as if it wasn't what she was seeing. . . or she was trying to understand what she was seeing. It was hard to condition yourself that you're dealing with people who know nothing of tech.

And this girl knew a whole lot of nothing.

"Look here." She didn't, just kept watching the screen and looked like she was praying for an answer. "Hey, look here." Slone even snapped her fingers to get her attention, but it didn't even prompt a reaction. She leaned over and slapped her across the face, waking her up with a gasp. "Fuckin' look at me."

The girl's face lingered and kept looking at the wall Slone slapped her towards. As far as culture shock goes, this seemed pretty extreme. However, they had things to do and a few thousand Wildlings to consider.

For Fucki- "What are you?"

Just when she was about to zap her again, Slone instead looked to the anxious eyes of her prisoner. "Let me make it clear we're not from Westeros nor that knight bullshit. We're the IMC, an organization from elsewhere with a lot of abilities you people can't even dream to have. Like killing you all from a distance, or like this." She gestured to the view of Hardhome. "We can have eyes anywhere without you people even knowing." Almost anywhere. . . "I'd say how, but you won't be able to understand, and we don't have the months it'd take to explain all this shit."

She still looked confused, which would've been the result if she explained how their tech worked. Still, the girl switched from murderous to apprehensive, so that was a form of progress. The Pilot could still see distrust and anxiety, but there was no simple solution to that.

She tapped the table top. "See your home here." The girl looked back to the screen. "We have weapons that can level the place to the ground with everyone from here similar to the ones that turned your friends into paste when they tried attacking. Razing Hardhome wouldn't take five minutes by what weapons we have here." And from space, but the Malta isn't in position, but that could be easily changed. Since the girl looked stressed from the information, so that's all that mattered.

"What do you want from me?"

Ah, so now she's compliant? Maybe it was out of fear or realizing the issue of the situation, didn't matter as long as she answered questions. "Name," Slone said. "Let's start with your name. Then, we can get down to business."

"Wait, what of Tormund?" she suddenly asked. "The man I was with, what happened to him?"

Oh, the one she didn't kill. "He's alive," Slone said as she pressed a few things on her wrist. For the second time, the girl gasped. The screen on the table switched from Hardhome to the nutjob with the red beard, strapped onto a stand with a straight jacket, shouting through the speakers were muted. Fucker's been doing this for days now after waking up.

"Tormund!" the girl shouted at the screen as she jolted forward. "Tormund, can you hear me!?"

Time to explain the concept of monitors. "He's can't hear you." The heavily breathing girl looked back to her. "Though believe me, we can hear him. Fucker won't stop shouting and swearing, even tried to bite one of the people trying to feed the crazy bastard." Then they started sending a MRVN. It scared him shitless, but the fucker can try biting down on metal as much as he wanted.

Crazy red woke up only a few days after his treatment for his minor concussion and a shattered jaw, and he hasn't shut up since. The surgeons should've kept that jaw broken, but he was a 'source of information'.

"He's fine and healed, we'll even let you talk to him." Slone turned off the table screen. "But we'll see to that later. Let's start with you telling me your name."

The girl just kept looking at the steel-colored table, looking pensive and thoughtful, breathing calmly and slowly, which was very off from what she'd seen her as. She was assessing the situation, clearly, and even weighing her options.

After a minute, she finally looked Slone. "Why the fuck would you capture me and Tormund?"

This bitch loved to go on tangents, doesn't she? "My superiors want something from your people."

She scoffed. "All us Freefolk have is fucking snow. What the hell would you want with us?"

True, they had a lot of snow and not much else. "We want your people's experience in this land to guide an expedition further north." The girl looked at her like she was insane, but it was certainly the idea that was.

Sending drones up there was a complete failure. At high altitudes it couldn't see through cloud cover, at lower altitudes the storms dropped them, that was if the long-range transmission link wasn't cut because, as the technicians said, 'unnatural amount electromagnetic interference likely emanating from the Ark energy'.

Long range comms over there was down, they lose the signals of their drones if sent or crash from a rogue blizzard, and the IMC can't safely send manned recon units due to it being unmapped, hostile territory. Hard to support or find out how progress went if you don't know where the fuck you were.

"You wish to go further north?" The tone matched well with the look and Slone nodded, then the girl shook her head in a surprising amount of resolution. "Absolutely not. You want to go there, you all can go on by yourselves. You won't find anyone Freefolk with a half a mind that would take you there."

Slone just shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to kill you." The girl stiffened. "If you're not going to help us, then you're useless trash that we should get rid off. Besides, I'm sure we can find someone more cooperative." The brass was gonna chew her out for this, but the situation called for it.

"You're not listening," the girl said. "No one wants to go farther north than we already are, we're going south for that very damn reason!"

Now it was Slone's turn to scoff. "For a girl who wanted to bite my head off, I'm surprised you're afraid of a wee bit of extra cold." True, it was getting colder since this planet's winter was setting in, and it was understandable that these Wildlings, or Freefolk as it were, would venture south for warmer air and animals to hunt.

"The cold?" The way she said it like Slone was an idiot had her pause. "You think we're running because of the cold? The cold is merely their wake."

Okay, now Slone needed a few seconds to unpack whatever the hell she just said. First off, if this girl wasn't completely bullshitting them, the cold was least of their worries. The second bit of info, again, if she wasn't bullshitting, the cold was an effect of whatever. Third, the 'whatever' was a 'their', a group.

"The hell are you talking about?"

The girl tilted her head, visibly confused. "You don't know what's happening here, do you?" Slone didn't answer, really couldn't do anything besides frown. "The White Walkers, they're back."

And just like that, the room descended into silence. The two staring at each other until the first to speak, and there were military commanders watching this.

"The fuck're you on about?"

Clearly wasn't the reaction she was expecting. "The White Walkers," she articulated. "They're making their way south with their army of wights. How could you not know this?"

This was. . . Slone took in a calming breath. "No, we don't know about whatever this 'White Walker' and wight rubbish." Honestly, she was expecting something serious, instead, it was a zombie story.

"Rubbish?" she repeated angrily as she tried getting up. "Those things forced us all to abandon our homes, turned our dead into their soldiers, if you fucking think-AHHHH!"

Slone kept up the shock for a few seconds longer before she was satisfied that she got her point across. As the redheaded girl breathed heavily with newfound anxiety and a reminder of who she was dealing with, Slone stood up from her seat with an annoyed sigh.

"Alright, so here's what I decided," she said, the panting girl gave her an angry, cursory glance. "I'm going to leave the room, leave you to your thoughts for a good twenty minutes, and when I get back, you better fucking start taking this seriously. If you don't. . ." Slone shrugged and left the room to a very angry redhead.

Once the door clicked shut, she groaned. She didn't like working with tossers, and this girl looked to be a massive one. Looking to the side, she saw the four officers that were in the adjacent room come out to the same hallway.

"So, that was interesting," one of them said, some middle-aged woman she didn't know the name of. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't wights a fancier name for zombies?"

Another officer nodded. "And I think White Walkers were part of this planet's folklore, I remember reading something about it when I was browsing some of the documents the IMC envoy sent back." Fuck's sake, Slone was right, it was a fairytale. "What say you, Pilot?"

Did they want her opinion? It was easy. "I think it's a load of horseshit." She received sounds of agreement and looked to the female officer, a colonel. "But I think we can use this."

The officer looked interested. "That is assuming she isn't lying through her teeth." The tag on her uniform said her name was 'A. Bello'. Colonel Bello, as it were. "But you've seen how she reacted, I think she believes it, which in turn our visitors believe it as well." The three others nodded with them. "How are they, by the way? Any more. . . incidents?"

The officer closest to her reached for his datapad. "No, ma'am," he said as he looked through the feeds. "If they've maintained position this long, it would be safe to assume our warning shots kept them at bay."

Slone unlatched her helmet and donned it and waited for her interface to boot up. Once it did, she immediately went into the reports and security feeds. . . yep, a few thousand Freefolk were still maintaining the tree line in a semi-circle around Olympus.

"Doesn't look like they'd try to push, other than that one time they tried sneaking in at night a few hours ago," Slone commented. "Question is, what're they waiting for?" If they were forced to fight, then that really lessened the IMC's chances of an amicable relationship with these people.

Then again, they did blast their scout party and infiltrators into nothingness. They'll just have to use the 'not my fault' protocol.

"Pilot," Colonel Bello called. "Considering General Marder's not going to accept this zombie story, we're going to need the girl to be compliant soon, before our guests turn from a local asset into hostile guerrillas."

Yeah, she knew what Bello meant. With the lack of the full force from the IMC back home, they're better off not making enemies that'd prove to be a pain. Long story short, they'd try to keep things cooperative.

If it can't or someone did something stupid, then fuck it. They've got the ordinance to spare.

The update wasn't exactly unwelcome, if anything it was just bizarre, Ash thought. 'The idea to recruit Wildlings is certainly a viable option.' Perhaps not exactly reliable when gathering intel, but local experts were better suited when their usual methods failed.

Though it would be an issue if any lord of the seven kingdoms found out. Considering they were going to make their way south, and the massive fortress wasn't something you forget.

"And so, the Targaryens resorted to inbreeding and incest to maintain their blood and magic, though we're uncertain how effective it was," Maester Luwin said as she read through a book about magic preservation. "Though some of the maesters believe it was simply ended as a family tradition."

If it was true and it's been going on for centuries, then it's shocking that they weren't a family famed for being afflicted with countless birth defects. Mad King Aerys seemingly early onset dementia was a good example of the lack of genetic diversity.

"Are. . . are you really listening?"

"I can read and listen at the same time with perfect memory to both," Ash said as she flew through the pages. It was a bit of a boon after becoming a computer, certainly had its benefits. "Going on a tangent, what more can you tell me about the history of these White Walkers?"

The question seemed to have surprised him. "Lady Ash, such topics are beneath you." Not when it came up with the questioning from Slone.

"Humor me, Maester Luwin. The topic of folklore interests me." Because it has come up as a topic to read into before convincing Wildlings to cooperate with the IMC. "It has come up in discussion with my superiors, and they tasked me with finding out more."

"Through this 'radio' you spoke of?" She nodded. "It truly fascinates how you're able to communicate with your lord without us knowing without the use of ravens. If I'm to speak honestly, I often suspect it was all a lie." He gestured to the scanner. "Though I have more reason to believe you than doubt."

At least she was trusted by someone, and luckily that person was the most trusted advisor to the lord. "Thank you, Maester Luwin, but back onto the topic of White Walkers, it would aid me and the IMC greatly if you shared your knowledge."

He still looked unsure. "I'm not sure considering it's mostly tales told by old septas to scare children into behaving." He sighed. "Though I believe it's a mistake to sidetrack, I will tell you all that you wish to know."

She matched his skepticism, Ash didn't want to stop her research just for this fiction about zombies. "I remember only that their latest sighting was thousands of years ago, could you expand on that?"

"They're last supposed sighting, no maester can tell you for certain whether they even existed or not. Some of us are convinced the tales of the Others, or White Walkers as they're called, were merely just a fabrication or exaggeration of how the Long Night was."

"Then why does the Wall exist, if for not the original purpose to keep them out?" It was the reason it was created, wasn't it?

Luwin shrugged, his chain links clinking to one another. "Hard to say. Some even theorized it was a natural occurrence, for how can someone build such a structure in their same lifetime?" Huh, he had a point, didn't he? Even if the IMC would need billions of credits to recreate something like it and millions of workers to finish making it. "While I do not believe in the Others, I don't believe such a structure erupted naturally."

"You believe it's manmade?"

He nodded. "The odds of it occurring is slim to impossible, but I thought at least sharing the theory. History dictates it was Bran the Builder who did so, and I believe so." It was true, something with those qualities cannot be made naturally. "Back to the Others, you'll find people split between believing they never existed, and people who say they're extinct, particularly among maesters." Not extinct on some accounts. "Stories say they rode on large spiders, wield weapons of ice, and where they go, the biting cold follows them. Fairly romanticized, I tell you."

Ash could see why, there was no situation where some being could control the weather, such fiction would fall under magic, which in itself was nonsense. Still, while Luwin was understandably hesitant to share fairy tales as 'research', he was being helpful with the new situation that came up and made sure to send the recorded audio to Olympus.

"I assume you have books that go further into detail of this?"

"I have a few, but they're as detailed as I just described." That's unfortunate, but on this topic, she didn't really mind. "I wouldn't dare taint my library with such drivel. Though perhaps when you visit King's Landing they'd have more than a few."

Ash would rather not devote precious time to stories. "So, they are more along the lines of magic than history, in your own opinion, anyway?" He nodded. "And what of history, what does it have to say?"

"Nothing," he said with a shrug. "No history books with a reliable writer spoke of them without extensive use of metaphors and heroic tales. Hence why some more skeptical maesters don't take their words as fact, and often dismiss the Others as just another metaphor of when winter was deadlier than natural."

Exactly! Why the hell would Slone or any of the IMC brass give this any interest? It's pointless, but if they expand their knowledge on the topic, then they could make educated moves when dealing with Wildlings who're shouting 'White Walkers!'.

A knock on the door interrupted their most non-illuminating knowledge, prompting the maester to give an annoyed grunt for being bothered when lecturing. It was well within the afternoon, so it couldn't have been the children, their schooling was already done hours previously.

When the door opened, it was the lord's son, Robb Stark. "Maester Luwin, Lady Ash, I sincerely apologize to interrupt your lecture and research, but my father strongly requests Lady Ash's presence in his solar," he said with a respectful bow to both.

"Is this about the letter?" Luwin asked, to which Robb nodded. Among the many of the maester's duties, one of them dealt with handling letters to the lord. An interesting thing to learn that when she was learning in Luwin's study with the maester when she was called about a letter Lord Stark had received, it would've been in his possession for over an hour.

What he was doing with that hour, likely deliberation, rewording, or even preparing himself to lead into the next step of this initiative. He was afraid of war with them, that was clear and rightfully so.

After the envoys dropped off their tributes via Samson, they had to go through Castle Black, which each envoy said was far more fortified than the last visit. While a show of possible retaliation, the IMC didn't care, they knew it wasn't going to really be a threat, so Marder allowed it.

He knew that all it meant was that Eddard Stark understood the dangers they posed and readied for contingency, that was if that threat was more than just reading a book in a cramped office. The best answer to that threat when you're so overwhelmingly outgunned was compliance, and it made things easier for both sides. . . mostly.

Ash stood up from her seat, set down the thousandth book she read through since last week. Luwin's collection was getting rather thin, only boosted by the amount of literature sent from Stark's vassal houses. "I'd like to resume our conversation on a later date, Maester Luwin," she said.

He only nodded with a hum as she exited the office and closed the wooden door behind her. After the month she'd been here, Luwin was treating her as though she was any human. Less could be said about Winterfell's other denizens, but they never really had to deal with her almost twenty-four hours a day to get used to her.

She looked to the young lord, who flinched slightly as her hollow sockets locked onto him. "I'll follow your lead, young lord," Ash told him.

All the boy did was nod and turn to lead the familiar path, another royal escort to make sure no one dared try to stop them. She had a guard lead her to Stark's office once, the idiot actually took the long route in an effort to show her off to his friends or children.

As far as she knew, that man was now guarding the outhouses for the rest of his life.

Needless to say, Lord Stark wasn't pleased with this and made to not only set an example of when being foolish, but also to send his son when she needed to be told of something important. The only other time he sent his son was the reply from King's Landing, this one should be no different.

Something was out of place, however, one that had her a bit paranoid. "Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow have better things to do?" Ash asked, looking around as she didn't see the two she usually saw Robb with. If this was an ambush. . .

"You could say that," Robb said, not turning to look at her. Probably helps to make him think he was talking to a human. "Jon's in the yard practicing more of his swordsmanship, likely to keep himself busy before taking the black. Theon is. . . well, meeting with a girl in Winter Town." Fucking, is clearly what he meant.

"Your half-brother intends to join the Night's Watch?" She didn't read much about this organization, but she did know few nobles from high ranking families actually allowed their sons to join. Maybe it was a bastard thing?

"He does, he finds it an honorable decision, though I can't imagine why after what we'd seen." Did he mean of the IMC or of the ragtag group that was the Night's Watch, maybe he even meant both? "Regardless, I'm certain he'd make something of himself there."

It was a glorified labor camp filled with prisoners, there was little Jon Snow could do to make himself of anything. When she asked Luwin about this brotherhood, she told him of what it became in recent years, though he was quick to mention that all the banners would come if there was more trouble than the Night's Watch could handle, so they weren't completely without contingency.

That's also what made things interesting. 'So many castles along the walls, fortifications to hold thousands of soldiers, and only three are currently occupied.' Luwin didn't say anything on that, their drones have. 'Why so many if not to defend and police the border from something?'

Reanimated corpses? Of course not. Oversized, likely mutant arachnids? Doubtful. Humanoid ice wizards? Borrowing from Kane, fuck no. However, was it to keep the Wildlings away? It's certainly an overkill and overpriced method that clearly doesn't stop them since there's still Wildling raids south of the Wall.

The best answer that she could think of that it was another Mad King Aerys moment, where some fool employed people by the thousands, if not millions, to build for whatever reason due to some mental breakdown or illness. She could imagine it as some lunatic failed attempt to stop the cold, even.

Whatever the case, the Wall has become a bit of mystery in creation, and she was half tempted to leave it as some freak natural occurring wonder.

"We've arrived," Robb said, confirming what her map showed, and knocked on the door. "Father, I've brought Lady Ash as you've requested." He waited a few seconds before hearing a 'let her in', then stood aside and opened the door for her. "Until next time, Lady Ash."

Politeness, nothing more, but she nodded to him anyway and walked through the doorway, the young lord closing it behind her. Like in her usually meetings, Lord Stark was present in his office, Vayon Poole standing off to the side in a supportive stance to his lord.

So why had it felt off? "You seem unwell, Lord Stark," Ash said as she stood in front of his desk, rescinding the offer to take a seat, as he always did.

The man swallowed hard. "You'd be correct, Lady Ash," Stark said. "I received a letter from King's Landing not two hours ago, and the news isn't fully what I expected nor wished."

Well, if the answer was what she thought it was, then he'd be very right to seem sick and grim. "Lord Stark, I hope you understand the implications if my permission to King's Landing's libraries was den-"

"It doesn't have anything to do with your permission to the capital's libraries, as to my knowledge your access is still allowed." If her request wasn't retconned, then there wasn't much of an issue.

That didn't stop her from being concerned, however, why else would he call her up? "Then I fail to see the problem."

Eddard took a heavy breath. "Lord Jon Arryn is dead." Was that it?

"My condolences, Lord Stark," she said with a respectful bow. "From what you told me, he was a good man." And the supposed liaison between her and the king. Now she understood why his letter involved her.

"Thank you," he responded, not really giving weight, likely still grieving for this person. "There's more to it, however. The same letter also mentioned that King Robert is personally touring his kingdom, eventually coming here in a month's time."

That was an interesting development, but not exactly concerning. "I understand your reasoning in calling for me as the late Jon Arryn was to aid me in my research, but why this news of the king?"

The lord frowned, looking thoughtful of the next few words. "I understand that you and your people come from a different society." That's putting it lightly. "But here, the king needs to be respected even by visitors."

Again, this confused her. "I have no intention of mocking him, if that's what you're implying."

He shook his head. "It's not that." He looked her firmly in the sockets, his face firm and unyielding, an interesting contrast to his son. "I understand fully the danger your people could bring upon Westeros, that your weapons and machinery outdo our own armies." Marder was right, he did understand. "What we discussed with Lord Marder at your outpost involved some veiled threats of war from your people towards mine, and that won't end well with someone as proud as King Robert."

"We have no intention for war, Lord Stark," she replied. "As long as the agreement is held, there will be none."

Stark nodded. "And I intend to keep it that way, but these people are different, they haven't seen what I've seen." He leaned in a bit closer. "Which is why I need to ask you for a few concessions."

"And what would that be?" If it was too much, then there was a problem.

He sighed again. "You need to act with etiquette befitting someone subservient to the royalty. Can you do that?"

Now she understood what he meant. Sacrifice some sense of independence, no more hidden threats, and prostration. She knew what the answer was without even asking Marder because he already sent her his answer and command.

Really, they'd allow anything as long as the IMC got what they wanted quicker.

Deleted scene

The girl tilted her head, visibly confused. "You don't know what's happening here, do you?" Slone didn't answer, really couldn't do anything besides frown. "The White Walkers, they're back."

Slone was taken aback. "Why you gotta make it a race thing?"

I regret nothing!

Reviews are very much appreciated. You can even tell me how bad my joke was.