Winter's (GOT) Nothing on Me #84

As Tormund and Gale approached Harma, she paused in her flurry of commands to acknowledge their arrival. "You're back, I see," she remarked, nodding at the duo. "How did it go?" Her concern etched in a frown.

Gale shook his head with a heavy sigh. "Not as we'd hoped. We suffered more casualties than expected, but the Weeper is dead, his men scattered or captured, and the threat is neutralized," he reported, his voice tinged with disappointment. 

His thoughts momentarily wandered to the unsuccessful attempt to retrieve the Weeper's body to fulfill Threya's last request, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.

While Gale regretted not recovering the Weeper's body, he found solace in the unlikeliness of the Weeping Man's survival. The plummet from great heights and the countless arrows embedded in his body all but ensured a fate of slim chances. 

He might have succumbed and transformed into a wight, wandered into the unknown, or perhaps his body become prey for some hungry predator. Whichever fate befell the Weeper, Gale resolved that it no longer burdened his responsibilities.

 For Gale, the Weeper's fate had concluded, and that was enough for the young man to move forward and never think or speak of him again. 

Harma's eyes sparkled with triumph. "Splendidly," she declared with a wide grin. "Your plan worked like a charm. The cave dwellers won't trouble us anymore, and we can count our losses on two or three pairs of hands," she added, a hint of pride evident in her tone.

Gale nodded pensively, recognizing the gravity of the situation. "At least some good came out of it," he mused softly, a flicker of relief crossing his features at the thought of the reduced casualties due to their actions. "What about the cave entrance? Have you cleared it already?" he inquired, directing his attention toward Harma, eager for confirmation.

Harma's expression shifted to one of bewilderment. "Well, we did move and burn the corpses..." she began, her voice trailing off as confusion clouded her features. "Why do you ask...?" Her curiosity was evident as she sought clarification from Gale.

Gale's response carried a sense of urgency mingled with concern. "The cave dwellers were trying to create White Walkers... now that they're gone, there's no harm in telling you, I suppose," he explained with a nonchalant shrug, his words met with widening eyes and shock from Harma.

"I plan to venture back into the caves, find out more about their intentions, and destroy any remnants of their sick rituals," Gale continued, his determination palpable. His resolve was unwavering, even as Harma's reaction hinted at the gravity of the task he was about to undertake.

"It's a good thing I didn't go in there... nothing good would come out of such foul sorcery..." Harma muttered, her gaze fixed on the cave entrance, her expression reflecting a mixture of concern and apprehension.

She glanced back at Gale, her eyes holding a stern warning. "I'd advise you to stay as far away as possible, but your eyes tell me you won't listen... so I won't waste my time..." Her grin was faint but evident as she offered a final cautionary note. "Be careful in there."

With those words, Harma resumed her commanding presence, tending to her duties among the wildlings.

Gale was ready to venture toward the cave but had to stop as Tormund called out to him. 

"Quite the adventure you're keen on, huh?" Tormund remarked, his brow raised in curiosity. "Mind if I come along?" he inquired, peering at Gale with a blend of interest and determination.

Gale regarded Tormund with a quizzical expression. The offer struck him as odd because, in the past, Gale had extended several invitations to the ginger wildling to join in his daily quest of harassing the cave dwellers to hinder and delay their rituals. 

Tormund's answer has always been a stern refusal. Like most, if not all wildlings, he was superstitious, and his aversion to dark magic and the eerie rituals conducted there had been crystal clear, despite his bravery that boarded foolhardiness. 

Tormund seemed to sense Gale's surprise and the unspoken thoughts behind it. He offered a simple explanation, shrugging casually. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it, but you could do with some company given your injury," he admitted, his tone earnest. "It wouldn't do to let the bridge between the Night's Watch and the Free Folk bleed out in some gods-forsaken cave," he added with a wry grin.

Gale sighed, recognizing the sincerity behind Tormund's words. "Fair enough, I suppose, suit yourself..." he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. 

With a nod toward Tormund, Gale turned and made his way toward the entrance of the foreboding caves, ready to confront the daunting mysteries lurking within.

...

Deep within the intricate cave system, Tormund and Gale reached a chilling scene, a testament to the eerie rituals conducted in these darkened depths. The underground chamber echoed with an unsettling stillness, its air thick with the pungent odor of death that assaulted their senses.

Despite Tormund's familiarity with the harsh northern cold, even he couldn't escape the shivers induced by the unnerving atmosphere. The center of the cavern revealed a haunting sight—a cluster of stone pillars adorned with cryptic markings, around which the remains of men lay, tied and lifeless, their fate bound to these peculiar stones.

Gale's eyes scanned the grim scene, his face etched with a mixture of sadness and revulsion. "Seems the cave dwellers persisted in their twisted ritual till the very end," he murmured with a grimace, his footsteps cautious as he approached one of the deceased. 

Observing the telltale signs of suffocation, the bluish hue tainting the man's face revealed a harrowing demise. "A dreadful way to go... poor fuckers..." Gale remarked, a sense of sorrow coloring his words.

Intrigued, Tormund leaned over another of the fallen men, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Hold on a moment... something's amiss," he voiced, drawing closer to inspect the body. As he pried open the dead man's mouth, a peculiar discovery unraveled before him. 

"Filed down teeth... by the gods, it's as I thought..." Tormund exclaimed, his features contorted in a mix of shock and dark bemusement. "This one's a cave dweller. It seems these fiends resorted to experimenting on their own kind once they ran out of prisoners," he explained, a hint of disgust lacing his words as he stepped back from the unnerving revelation.

Tormund's swift recoil revealed an ominous bluish patch on the dead man's collar as he brushed past. 

A flicker of icy hue lingered beneath the skin for an instant, catching Gale's watchful eye. Reacting swiftly, Gale unsheathed his sword, determined to unravel the mysteries concealed beneath the furs covering the corpse's torso.

With a swift motion, Gale's blade cleaved through the furs, revealing a disturbing sight. His widened eyes beheld bluish patches with dark veins tracing along the skin, an unnerving sight akin to his own visage during moments of losing control and transforming into a white walker.

 Shock and alarm painted Gale's face as he comprehended the implications.

"Fuck!" Gale exclaimed, his voice laden with disbelief and unease as he gazed upon the unnatural skin alterations. "They were close... dangerously close," he muttered with a grimace, realizing the extent of the cave dwellers' twisted pursuits. 

The thought of several wildlings roaming the world unchecked with powers aking to his own filled Gale with a mixture of fear and consternation. 

As he processed the gravity of this discovery, Gale's mind whirled with the implications of his presence in this world. The notion of someone attempting to create white walkers beyond the Children of the Forest, as depicted in the ancient tales, weighed heavily on him. 

It seemed his arrival in this realm had brought unforeseen consequences, unsettling the balance of this world in ways he had never fathomed.

Gale's face tightened into a grim expression as he turned toward Tormund. "There must be notes or something regarding the ritual kept by the cave dwellers," he declared with urgency. "We have to find them and burn them immediately!" His tone was resolute and urgent, conveying the gravity of the situation.