One day later, within the confines of the Raven's cave, a sense of urgency filled the air as preparations for their departure were finalized. Qhorin took one last look at the roughly drawn map depicting the lands north of the Wall, a tangible representation of their perilous journey ahead.
Folding the map with a sense of resolve, he stowed it away, emphasizing the importance of their mission. "Now that everyone's well-rested, and we have our path charted, it's time to depart," Qhorin declared.
He rose from his seat, and Gale, Benjen, and Edd followed suit. With their gear in order, they prepared to leave.
As they gathered near the cave's exit, Leaf, the guardian of this mystical place, approached them with a serene demeanor. She offered to guide them toward the outside world, the expanse of snow and scattered wight corpses awaiting them.
"It's here that we bid farewell," Qhorin spoke solemnly, acknowledging the kindness and refuge they had received. "Thank you for your help and hospitality." With that, he turned to leave, and the others followed suit, heading out into the stark wilderness.
Leaf wished them well, and while Benjen and Edd expressed their gratitude with nods, Gale was more reserved. He couldn't ignore the inner conflict he carried but managed to convey his appreciation.
"I still feel like cutting you to pieces, but I'm no animal. I can fight against the worst of my nature," Gale admitted. "Thank you for saving Qhorin."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and joined the others as they ventured forth, leaving Leaf with an unreadable expression and the weight of her own thoughts.
...
Somewhere deep within the enigmatic depths of the Haunted Forest, Tormund Giantsbane knelt on the frigid, snow-covered ground. He closely examined the lifeless form of a wight sprawled before him, its head grotesquely severed with precision.
The clean cut along the spine, a mark of expertise and skill, didn't escape Tormund's attention.
"This took a sharp blade, and the skill to wield it—crow work, no doubt," he mused aloud, his rough fingers tracing the impeccable line of the severed spinal bone. Silence met his observations, which prompted a crease of concern on his brow.
He turned to find Threya gazing into the horizon with a contemplative look.
Tormund recognized the unspoken concern in her eyes, and he broke into a wry grin. "The women from Craster's Keep are with Ygritte. She'll keep them safe," he assured her. "If any of the lads dare lay a hand on the women, you can be sure Ygritte will have his pecker and feed it to the wolves." His chuckle was hearty, and Threya's smile returned.
"You are right," she conceded. "You were saying?" Threya prompted, eager to address the more pressing matter.
"This is crow work," Tormund confirmed, gesturing to the myriad of wight corpses strewn across the chilling landscape. "But I can't find any traces of the bastards. I have no idea how they got here or where they went." Bewilderment played across Tormund's features as he mulled over this mystery, the absence of clues leaving them perplexed.
Threya listened attentively to Tormund's response, her thoughtful hum carrying a hint of concern. "Now that you mention it... the crow party that ambushed me didn't leave any traces either," she admitted.
"Craster's wives told me they visited the keep, but I found no traces leading in or out of the place." Her words were tinged with frustration as she shook her head, struggling to make sense of the mysterious absence of evidence.
Tormund couldn't suppress a grin, finding an odd sense of humor in their enigmatic adversaries. "So... we're dealing with a crow party of four that's not only capable of destroying an undead horde, but also covering their tracks better than even our people," he remarked, stroking his fiery beard.
His amusement was palpable. "Now the question is whether this one party is special, or if the entire Night's Watch has somehow turned into gods." He concluded his observation with a hearty chuckle.
Threya, however, couldn't quite share in Tormund's humor. She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm and quipped, "Both options are concerning, and yet here you are, grinning like an idiot."
Tormund, unfazed by her skepticism, replied matter-of-factly, "Why wouldn't I? I reckon I'll have another story to tell once we get to the bottom of this."
With that, he rose to his feet, signaling for the others to prepare for the continuation of their journey. "Come on, let's keep moving."
His determined tone resonated through the group of wildlings, and they continued their journey through the Haunted Forest, eager to unravel the mystery of the elusive crow party.
...
Inside Castle Black, within the confines of the Lord Commander's office, the tense conversation continued, as Ser Alliser Thorne pressed for more information. The Lord Commander, having shared some of the truth about the impending threats, responded to the discontented knight.
"But why keep this from us? We could have spent the time preparing!" Ser Alliser Thorne protested, his frustration evident in his tone. He had clearly taken issue with the secrecy surrounding the recent events.
The Lord Commander defended his actions, pointing out the efforts that had already been made. "And what do you think we've been doing so far?" He countered. "The increased recruitment efforts? To bolster our ranks." His voice held the weight of experience.
"The increased patrols? To gather more information and gather evidence, which we would present to Lord Stark and the lords in King's Landing," he explained, emphasizing the larger strategic plan at play.
Ser Thorne gritted his teeth, his reservations still unswayed. "This still doesn't warrant all the secrecy. We have all vowed our lives to the watch. We deserve to know the threats we stand to face," he argued, using a decisive gesture to emphasize his point.
The Lord Commander conceded the merit of his concerns. "True enough, but ignorance is a blessing, Ser Thorne," he admitted, underlining the delicate balance they were trying to maintain. "We were already facing a problem with the increasing number of deserters due to rumors of the undead alone," he revealed.
"What do you think these green, untrained recruits will do once their Lord Commanders confirm the rumors?" His expression was solemn. "I couldn't let news of this threat spread, not before preparing our fresh recruits," he concluded, highlighting the necessity of controlled information.
Ser Thorne sighed, acknowledging the wisdom behind the Lord Commander's reasoning, though not entirely satisfied.
"What about that stray that Benjen picked up north of the Wall?" he asked, switching the topic and making his suspecions known. "I know he has something to do with this mess..." His narrowed gaze suggested a deeper concern.
"That is not for me to reveal, and not for you to know, Ser Thorne," the Lord Commander calmly reiterated. His voice held the weight of his authority. "Now then, if you have no further business, I suggest you take your leave now," he added, his tone becoming more commanding.
However, Ser Thorne was not easily dissuaded, his suspicions and curiosity driving him to press further. "Lord Commander, surely you don't expect us to—" he began, but his words were abruptly cut off as the Lord Commander took decisive action.
With a sudden and sharp gesture, the Lord Commander slammed his palm onto the table, causing everyone in the room to startle. Rising from his seat, he strode over to the wall and retrieved a longsword, making his point quite clear.
"Perhaps you've misheard me, Ser Thorne," the Lord Commander stated firmly as he unsheathed the sword. The Valyrian cold steel gleamed in the dimly lit room.
"I've already said that we have nothing more to discuss, so unless you and your companions intend to put those swords on your sides to use," he warned, his stance leaving no room for further debate. "I suggest that you kindly get out of my sight at once," he concluded, underlining his authority and the finality of his decision.
Within the Lord Commander's office, the tense atmosphere reached its climax, but it quickly dissolved under the influence of a cooler, wiser voice. "You've heard the man, lads. Time to get back to your duties unless you want to get a taste of the Lord Commander's Valyrian steel," Ser Rykker's voice resounded in the room, his tone carrying a note of amusement.
He approached with a knowing look, addressing Thorne specifically. "You too, Thorne. You should know better than to test Lord Mormont's patience," he advised, acknowledging the tense situation.
Ser Thorne, though visibly frustrated, understood that further argument was futile. He grunted in displeasure, turning on his heel, and began to exit the room, accompanied by the ranger who had accompanied him.
The tension seemed to recede as they left the office.
Ser Rykker released a sigh of relief, addressing the Lord Commander with concern. "I hope you won't hold this against him, Lord Commander," he said, his voice reflecting his desire for harmony within the Night's Watch.
"He's prickly and hardheaded by nature, but he means well," Rykker explained, seeking to mitigate any lingering animosity.
The Lord Commander, although stern, acknowledged Thorne's intentions. "I know as much, Ser Rykker," he responded as he sheathed his sword and returned to his seat.
The grave circumstances weighed on him, and he did not have the luxury of leniency. "However, dark times await us, and I don't have the leeway to coddle fragile egos for much longer," he emphasized, his gaze unyielding.
"As his friend, it is your duty to ensure nothing like this happens again," he concluded, his expectations for Ser Rykker clear.
With a nod of understanding, Ser Rykker took his leave to address the matter, leaving the Lord Commander to contemplate the challenges ahead.
The party had reached the northern fringes of the Haunted Forest, and with the sky darkening as evening approached, they decided to set up camp. After arranging sleeping beds and starting a fire, Edd approached Gale with a measure of sarcasm.
"So, I hear you're who I have to thank for bringing me along on this wonderful journey..." Edd quipped, casting a somewhat dirty look in Gale's direction.
Gale couldn't help but smile in response. "You're most welcome," he replied, his tone carrying a lighthearted chuckle.
Edd's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance. "First of all, fuck you. Second of all, why?" he inquired, genuinely curious about Gale's reasoning.
Gale shrugged, considering the question. "You're well-respected among the Night's Watch, competent enough, and you didn't strike me as the kind to stab someone in the back," he explained, offering a rational perspective.
Edd let out a resigned sigh. "Maybe I would have taken to stabbing folks in the back had I known someone would drag me into this..." he remarked with a shake of his head, his tone veering towards humor, drawing a chuckle out of Gale.
"Then again, maybe it's not too late," Edd added with a smirk, sending a pointed glare toward the young man at his nonchalant attitude.
Gale maintained his good humor as he stood up, ready to tend to his responsibilities. "Well, I'm something of a heavy sleeper. That's your chance," he said with a wink.
"Anyway... I'll scout the area before I come back to take the first shift," he added before walking away, leaving Edd behind with a bemused expression as he contemplated his life decisions.
...
Tormund Giantsbane continued to survey the gruesome scene before him, where wight corpses lay strewn across the frozen battleground. His expression remained stern as he took in the lack of any significant tracks or clues.
"Still no tracks... still, these crows sure are a busy bunch," he grumbled, his large hand caressing his beard as he pondered the situation.
Threya, standing beside him, studied the eerie landscape with a critical eye. The sight of numerous undead creatures and the peculiar dents on several trees left her visibly uneasy.
"Somehow... I'm not looking forward to finding them anymore," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of distress.
Tormund waved her concerns away with a dismissive gesture. "Where would be the fun in hunting meek prey?" he quipped, managing a smirk despite the grim circumstances. "It's too late to back down, anyway."
Threya's response was laced with sarcasm. "Wonderful," she muttered, her gaze locked on the barely noticeable column of smoke rising in the northern distance. "In any case, you must remember that we need them alive. We can't question corpses, after all," she reminded Tormund.
Tormund scratched his wild red hair, his brows furrowing in thought. "I usually swing my sword first, ask questions later," he admitted, a touch of frustration evident in his expression. "Guess I'll have to let you take the lead."
Threya nodded with determination. "Then I'll scout ahead. Follow my tracks if you lose sight of me," she instructed before promptly turning around and jogging north, leaving Tormund to follow.
...
Gale ventured through the dense, leafless trees of the Haunted Forest, tracing his steps alongside a meandering freshwater stream. He clutched his bow tightly, an arrow nocked and ready to fly, his senses keen to detect any sign of danger.
Although he had claimed to be scouting the area, his true intention was to procure some fresh sustenance. The unpalatable dried rations they had been subsisting on had reached the limits of his patience.
Amidst the tangled underbrush, he caught the subtle rustling of leaves, and his instincts kicked in. Gale swiftly drew his bow, arrow drawn back in tension, and fixed his sights on the source of the disturbance. A white hare had emerged from the almost-dried-out bush, busily pawing at the snow, seeking nourishment from the hidden roots beneath.
Gale watched the hare's movements attentively, his aim unwavering. Without hesitation, he released the arrow, which found its mark in the hare's neck. The creature's brief struggle was over in an instant, leaving it lifeless in the snow.
Gale approached the fallen hare with mixed emotions. "Sorry, buddy, but if I ate any more of those wretched dried rations, I'd lose my mind," he murmured as he retrieved his arrow.
As Gale reached out to claim the hare he had just taken down, a sudden disruption reached his ears—the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. He snapped into immediate action, deftly nocking an arrow in his bow and rising from his crouched position to identify the source of the noise.
Before him stood a wildling woman, her fierce demeanor evident as she brandished a hand axe and a short sword. Gale's initial frown shifted to a look of shock. "You... you're alive...?" he stammered, his grip on the bow loosening unconsciously.
The wildling woman, Threya, responded with a sly grin. "All thanks to you," she said, her expression shifting abruptly as she raised her hand axe and hurled it in Gale's direction. He managed to react swiftly, twisting his body to evade the projectile narrowly.
"A simple thank you would have sufficed," Gale retorted, abandoning his bow and swiftly unsheathing his blade as Threya charged forward, shortsword in hand.
Within striking distance, Gale moved with precision, executing a sideways swing of his sword as soon as Threya drew near. She hastily raised her short sword to block, but the sheer power behind Gale's attack caused her to stagger, nearly losing her grip on her weapon.
Gale capitalized on her momentary vulnerability, unrelentingly channeling his substantial strength through his longsword. Realizing that a prolonged stalemate wouldn't be in her favor, Threya acted quickly.
She relinquished her shortsword, nimbly drawing a small dagger from her belt with her free hand. In a swift, well-coordinated maneuver, she ducked beneath Gale's swinging sword and closed the remaining distance, her blade aimed to strike at his gut.
Gale acted just in the nick of time. With a quick movement, he caught her wrist before her dagger could find its mark, keeping it restrained.
Frustration evident in his voice, he questioned, "Seriously, lady, what's your problem?"
Threya, in return, offered him a defiant scowl. "I'm no lady, pretty boy," she replied, tilting her head backward and then abruptly headbutting Gale squarely on his nose.
"Fuck..." Gale cursed, staggering back and clutching his now-bleeding nose. "You just broke my bloody nose!" he exclaimed, his irritation evident. He brandished his sword, pointing it menacingly at Threya.
"I'll break more than your nose," she threatened with a determined charge, closing in on Gale once more.
Wiping the blood streaming down his nose, Gale glared at Threya, his annoyance palpable. "Fine, if you want to die that badly," he muttered, firmly planting his feet on the ground. "Just so you know, I'm not stupid enough to spare you a second time," he added, his scowl deepening.
Threya swiftly closed the distance between them, her short swords passing perilously close to Gale as they whizzed past his ears. She deftly sidestepped, evading a downward swing from Gale, and immediately seized the opportunity to send her dagger hurtling toward Gale's neck.
However, Gale stepped back, allowing Threya's dagger to find nothing but empty air. He reacted with remarkable swiftness, using the back of his hand to slap Threya's wrist, forcing her to release the weapon.
Before Threya could recover, Gale delivered a powerful kick to her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her and sending her stumbling backward. She lost her balance and fell flat onto her back.
With reluctant determination, Gale raised his sword and advanced toward Threya, poised to end the confrontation. He loomed over her, his two-handed sword pointed downward, aimed directly at Threya's heart.
He began to drive the sword downward, but before he could complete the fatal strike, an arrow suddenly flew from the tree line and pierced into Gale's shoulder, halting his motion halfway.
"For fuck's sake... now what?!"
"For fuck's sake," Gale grumbled, momentarily pausing as he carefully removed the arrow that had become lodged in his armor without penetrating his flesh.
An exasperated expression clouded his features. "What is it now?" he questioned, his gaze fixed on the direction from which the arrow had been fired, planting his sword into the snow near Threya's neck to prevent her from escaping.
Emerging from the shadows of the trees were several wildling warriors, with a towering man at their forefront. His scruffy red beard and hair made him instantly recognizable as Tormund Giantsbane, a figure Gale recalled from the TV show.
Tormund regarded Gale with a curious and somewhat amused expression, briefly glancing at Threya before returning his attention to the young man.
"I never thought I'd see Threya in such a miserable state... color me impressed, lad," Tormund remarked with a smirk, eliciting a scowl from Threya.
Gale remained composed and retorted, "She'll be even more miserable if you don't turn around and fuck off." With those words, he cautiously edged his blade closer to Threya's neck.
Tormund's laughter rumbled through the quiet woods. "Look around you, lad. You're clearly outnumbered and outmatched," he said, his eyes narrowing with a measure of caution.
"Threya is the only thing keeping me from ripping your innards out and strangling you with them. You better not do anything dumb." Several of the wildling warriors responded to Tormund's words by raising their bows and aiming them squarely at Gale.
Gale surveyed the situation with a deep frown but chose to remain silent, unwilling to provoke the armed group.
Tormund, however, was more amiable. He flashed a toothy grin at Gale. "I'll take your silence as a willingness to listen," he said. "We're looking for something, and Threya here thinks one of your crows made off with it."
He cast an inquiring look at the wildling woman. "The horn of what was it again?"
Threya hesitated but ultimately answered, unable to hide her frustration at how casually Tormund revealed such sensitive information. "An old war horn. It was hidden in the Fist of the First Men. One of you crows must have stolen it."
Gale's eyebrows shot up in surprise as he recalled the ancient war horn he'd discovered in the cache alongside the dragon glass weapons. "Oh yeah? And why the hell do you need some old war horn? You relic collectors or something?" he asked, hoping to glean more information from their responses.
Threya was quick to express her displeasure at the question. "That's none of your-" she began but halted mid-sentence when Tormund casually answered Gale's inquiry.
"The war horn is said to awaken the giants, or some such tall tale," Tormund explained with a relaxed demeanor.
He nonchalantly picked at his ear with his pinky, clearly undisturbed by the potential security breach. "I'll have to see it to believe it, but Rayder ordered us to find it, and so here we are."
Finding herself in a precarious situation, Threya wrestled with conflicting emotions- torn between a desire to lunge at Tormund and stab him in the gut for his carelessness or simply palm her face and give up on the situation.
Meanwhile, Gale couldn't suppress the strange smile that tugged at his lips at Tormund's revelation. The notion of a horn that could awaken giants sounded fantastical even by the standards of the Game of Thrones world.
However, he recognized the advantage this situation presented and decided to seize it. "Well, you're in luck. I happen to be the very crow who found the war horn..." He explained.
"It was in a cache on top of the Fist with a bunch of dragon glass weapons over a year ago," he admitted, reaching into his cloak and retrieving one of the dragon glass daggers for emphasis.
Tormund nodded in satisfaction upon hearing that Gale had knowledge of the horn's location. His gaze then turned intense, and he inquired, "And where is this horn? You wouldn't happen to have it on your person, would you?" His eyes bore into Gale with a dangerous glint.
Gale, however, didn't seem fazed by the intimidating question. He maintained his scowl and answered, "I'm not in the habit of carrying useless trinkets when I need to travel light. The horn is in Castle Black."
Tormund accepted this response without argument, acknowledging the current stalemate. He turned his attention to Threya, saying, "You have two things that we want, and I doubt we have anything that would interest a crow such as yourself."
Gale interjected, shaking his head, "That's not necessarily true. Your leader, Mance Rayder, I need to speak with him." This declaration seemed to bewilder both Tormund and Threya.
Tormund raised an eyebrow, expressing his confusion, "Now, what business would you have speaking with your glorious leader?"
Gale stated his intentions plainly, "We know about the White Walkers. Way I see it, we can either die fighting each other or work together to stop the undead."
This pronouncement initially elicited laughter from Tormund. He chuckled, "You're a funny man! The first crow with a sense of humor I've ever met... 'work together,' he said."
However, Tormund's laughter suddenly ceased as he locked eyes with Gale and detected the profound seriousness behind the statement. He questioned Gale with disbelief, "Wait... you're not serious, are you...?"
Gale remained resolute as he explained his perspective to Tormund. "The Night's Watch has only one job, and that is to protect Westeros from all threats beyond the Wall," he calmly stated.
"As things stand, the only threat to Westeros is the Night King and his army of undead," he continued with conviction. "Your people stand to gain much from an arrangement with the Night's Watch as well," he concluded.
Tormund shook his head skeptically. "The day that Mance Rayder asks his people to fight hand in hand with crows is the day they hang him on a tree and gut him," he responded. However, a sly smirk crept onto his face. "But I suppose he'll want to hear what you have to say..."
Gale, still facing the pointed arrows of the wildling warriors, insisted on a show of trust. "Good. Then I'd appreciate it if your people stopped pointing those dangerous things at me," he said.
Tormund chuckled and gestured for the warriors to relax, signaling them to lower their weapons. "Alright. We'll take you and your companions to Rayder but don't get your hopes up. It's more likely that you'll meet death there than anything else," he warned with a laugh.
Gale shook his head, displaying his determination. "No. I'll go alone. They need to go back and explain the situation to the Lord Commander. Otherwise, you can only dream about getting the horn," he firmly stated.
...
Back in the camp, Qhorin couldn't help but frown as he looked around and saw no traces of Gale returning, despite an entire hour passing. "What's taking Gale so long...?" he asked, his tone laced with concern.
Benjen sighed, sharing in the worry. "I can't help but feel we've been through this before..." he muttered with an exasperated tone. "You don't think he stumbled into another White Walker, do you?" he questioned.
Edd chimed in with a grim expression, "You better not get any ideas... the last time someone went after him, they ended up half-dead."
Qhorin chuckled at the grim memory, as he was the very one who had ended up half-dead previously. "The lad can-" he began, but he halted mid-sentence as the sound of several approaching footsteps grew louder. He swiftly picked up his sword, prompting Edd and Benjen to do the same.
"Someone's coming," Qhorin stated as they braced for the unexpected visitors.
Qhorin looked at the figure of Gale approaching them and sighed in relief, relieved that their young companion was returning unharmed. However, his relief quickly turned to shock and confusion as he noticed several wildling warriors following behind Gale.
"Next time you want to leave camp, you better be prepared to walk over my corpse..." Qhorin joked, casting a bemused look at Gale. "We've got plenty of headaches as is," he added.
Gale wore a troubled smile as he responded, "No headaches this time around. They're not here to fight..."
Qhorin raised an eyebrow, his hand firmly gripping his sword. "This ought to be interesting, at least," he said with a sigh. "What are they here for, then?" He asked, his curiosity piqued.
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