5 Months before the death of Jon Arryn

Hayma

Sunlight reflected off the snow and ice in a dazzling array of light. Bright speckles floated across the vision of all who stood along the shelf of ice that formed the interior of the triangle, around which three separate armies had made camp. Hayma knew that if a messenger from Mance did not return today, many of those bright speckles would be red with freshly spilt blood.

At the northern point of the triangle camped four hundred warriors from one of the Ice River clans, a score of scores. Both men and women were among their ranks, and they were here to finish what they had started generations before: the subjugation of the Frozen Shore.

A huge factor in the military successes of the Ice River clans was the division between the two principle factions of the Frozen Shore: the Walrus clan and the Wolf clan. The Walrus clan was led by that oaf, the Great Walrus, and he was a fool indeed. Even when most of his clan had been overrun by cannibals from Ice River, he had still been just as interested in pursuing his war against the Wolf clan as his war against the cannibals. He had managed to round up one hundred and sixty warriors, an incredibly large number for these present days, an amazingly small number from days past.

The Ice River clans and the Walrus clan were camped a half mile apart, with cannibals to the north, and the fools to the south. A half mile from both camps, south of the cannibals and west of the oaf, camped the Wolf clan of the Frozen Shore.

The Wolf clan had mustered two hundred and fifty-seven warriors to the field of battle, a full two-thirds of the clan's entire manpower. Hayma figured the Great Walrus had brought an even larger percentage of his total manpower, the River clan a much smaller percentage.

Four months ago, Mance Rayder, who styled himself the King Beyond the Wall, had sent out messengers calling for the assembly of all able bodied warriors in order to take the Wall and get to the south of it before the White Walkers came. Hayma had never seen as White Walker, nor did she know anyone who had. But the folk of the Frozen Shore had long memories, and tales of the Long Night were still told as a ritual part of the winter solstice. There had not been a winter solstice since Hayma was a small girl but she remembered the tales of creatures that walked like men, but were encased in ice, with hearts frozen solid. The tales claimed they raised the dead, and Hayma believed the tales. She had never personally seen a dead man walk, but she knew those who had. The legends said the Ice River clans had originally become cannibals to keep the dead from rising again, but the lack of other sources of food along Ice River was a much more plausible explanation.

A cry went up from the northernmost camp, and Hayma watched as the clans from the north began to assemble for war. She saw the Great Walrus begin to assemble his men for battle on their walrus-bone chariots.

"The question" said a voice behind her, "is which do we attack first?"

"We attack neither" Hayma said, as she turned to face the chief of her clan, the White Wolf. Rumor had it that the clans to the northwest, beyond Ice River, west of the Frostfangs, between the forks, all took the names of the animals when they reached the age of fourteen. The Walrus clan did the same, but in the Wolf clan, only the chief took the silly name.

"Then what should we do?" the White Wolf asked, looking at her.

"We let them fight among themselves. If the Great Walrus looks to be winning, we go home. If the cannibals drive them from the field and start to advance, we attack them from the side."

"South of the Wall, they call that a flanking maneuver" the White Wolf said.

"Sounds like a uselessly complicated way of saying 'attack them from the side'"

"The southlanders are uselessly complicated."

The White Wolf surveyed the field of battle with his one eye, having lost the other in battle with a two-legged bear on an island to the south. "I would think you, of all people, would advocate supporting our sister-clan in their fight. Especially if it could soon be our fight."

"I would have once" Hayma said, thinking back to her late husband, who had been a member of Clan Walrus. "But if the Great Walrus dies, well, that is naught but gain."

"Your great hatred is justified, but perhaps it blinds you."

"You are the one who lost an eye."

"Yet I am the one who clearly sees, it would seem. The Walrus clan has no chance of winning on their own, but you would have me let them fight and die. Of the two, they are certainly much less dangerous to our survival."

"This fight will not be as one sided as you seem to think; the Walrus clan has their chariots."

"They will still lose."

"Yes, but if enough of the cannibals die, they won't advance. That is what our goal should be today: prevent them from advancing."

"I'm sorry, Hayma, but the decision has been made. We are going to help them." The White Wolf's eyes hardened as he looked at her. "Are you going to obey me?"

"They're not worth dying over. There is no reason for us to fight for them, with them, or alongside them. They would never do the same to us."

"I see through you, Hayma. I know that when you say they, you mean the Great Walrus. And I agree; he should be left naked on shelf of ice next to a leopard seal's feeding hole. He deserves whatever the Ice River clans have in store for him. But his wife doesn't. And his children don't. And most of those men and women over there, most of their husbands and wives, and none of their children deserve what will happen if we lose.

"And besides, was it not you who told me: family before village, village before pack, pack before clan, clan before people, people before outsiders, outsiders before self? The Walrus clan is a part of our people, and the Ice River clans are outsiders. And those outsiders will be endangering our clan if the Walrus clan loses. So you are putting our clan, our pack, and our village in danger for your own selfish reasons."

The accusation stung, and Hayma was shocked by his stubbornness. She had always been able to make him see reason before. "Please," she whispered, "don't do this."

He struck her then. His fist struck the side of her head with his full body weight and momentum behind it. Hayma dropped, dazed. She had not expected the blow, but it had not been unwarranted. She had challenged his leadership, and he had answered. He had exhausted every other means of dealing with her, and Hayma had left him with no other recompense.

But the pain and the indignation of being dropped with a single blow overwhelmed Hayma's good sense. She had always been impulsive, and it had always worked out in her favor.

She unsheathed her small bone knife beneath her as subtly as she could before leaping to her feet and launching herself at the White Wolf.

He caught her by the wrist with one hand while the other clasped the back of her head, as he yanked her forward and put his knee in her gut. A second knee took her in the gut again, and he yanked back on her head before landing another punch to the side of her head.

Hayma tried to rise, but the White Wolf landed a solid kick to her ribs, and then two more to her head.

"Hayma," he said, when he had finished subduing her, "you have attacked your clan chief. You have betrayed us all. I am banishing you from the Frozen Shore. If I ever see your face again, I will kill you."

He turned and began to walk away from her.

"Cairn" she called, using the name from when his father had been the White Wolf. He stopped moving, but he did not turn around, lest he see her face. He was now honor bound by his vow to kill her, should he see her.

"I can't take back this order, Hayma, nor do I want to. You are banished."

"I know you can't take it back. You are already a weak and indecisive leader, and to change your mind or soften my sentence would only make it more painfully obvious. But if it is worth anything, I am sorry. I should not have attacked you without issuing a challenge. It was shameful and should never have happened, and I am sorry.

"But if there is still any place in your heart for me, may I ask for just one final favor? In my tent, there is a carved wooden wolf. My husband made it for my boy, and it is all I have left of either of them. May I please retrieve it? I will go, I swear to you on my memories of them, I will go if you just let me have this one trinket."

"I will have someone bring it to you" he said, before walking away, into the camp.

She had not been waiting long when a fourth party arrived to the field of battle, coming from the east. The party was led by a giant man with an equally giant red beard. The fame of Tormund Giantsbane preceded him, and Hayma recognized him on sight. Tormund was from Mance, and he was here to broker a peace. Hayma knew he would succeed; Mance always did.

But as much as she had been looking forward to this moment not too long ago, the moment had come too late. True, it had stopped the battle before it was ever joined. But Hayma was now alone, without village, pack, or clan. Mance and his war were all that was left, because Hayma was now completely alone.