Winter's (GOT) Nothing on Me #79

Kneeling over the fallen figure of Ser Alliser Thorne, who lay bloodied and battered after an intense fifteen-minute battle, Tormund grinned down at the downed ranger. "You fight well for a man of the Night's Watch... what's your name, ranger?" he inquired, observing the defeated warrior.

Ser Thorne coughed, blood spattering as he struggled to speak. He gazed at Tormund with a pained expression before defiantly spitting the pooled blood in the towering wildling's face.

"I knew... you wildlings couldn't be trusted. Filthy savages... with no regard for honor or laws... murderers and pillagers, every last one of you..." He uttered, his words broken by coughs and gasps for air. "At least... I'll face the gods knowing your treachery... even if it's... too late for the others to know..." He added through clenched teeth.

Tormund suppressed an internal chuckle. It seems Thorne was convinced this ambush was solely orchestrated by the wildlings, unbeknownst to the rest of the rangers.

Though Tormund could easily dispel Ser Thorne's misconception and reveal the truth, he was not cruel enough to deny a dying man such a small comfort in his final moments.

Tormund stood over the fallen Ser Alliser Thorne, his laughter echoing amidst the desolate landscape. "You take comfort in thinking you saw through our intentions..." he said, chuckling.

"Wait on the other side, and when we send the rest of your brothers to you... look each of them in the eyes and remind them that you warned them..." He added, watching as Ser Thorne's breaths grew shallow, leaving him unable to utter another word.

Soon enough, the ranger breathed his last.

Tormund wiped the blood off his face and turned to the wildlings, who were busy looting the rangers' corpses for their weapons and armor. "Burn the bodies and join the force to the west," he commanded. "I'll catch up with our crow friend... I want to witness the Weeper's end myself."

With that, he turned away, leaving the wildlings to their grim task as he walked off into the distance, the weight of the pending confrontation with the Weeper on his mind.

...

Deep in the Haunted Forest, Gale halted, causing the men behind him to follow suit. A grimace formed on his face as he observed the sight ahead. Spears were driven into the ground, each bearing the severed head of a man with black cloaks wrapped around them, their eyes brutally removed.

Val stepped forward to examine the gruesome remains, emitting a resigned sigh.

"Cutting out the eyes, that's the Weeper's work... we're on the right track," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and disgust. "The best crow's a blind crow, he likes to say..." she added, shaking her head in dismay.

Threya couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Sometimes I wonder if the old bastard would like to cut out his own eyes, the way they're always watering and itching..." she commented. "No matter, I'll relieve him of that itch soon enough..." she added, her gaze hardening.

Gale snorted, his voice laced with firm resolve. "You can skin him alive once I've broken his legs for all I care.... until then, no one is to go near the Weeping Man," He said, firmly shaking his head.

"He's caused too much chaos, and I can't risk letting him escape under any circumstances...." he declared, waiting for any objections, finding none. "Let's move. The sooner we finish this, the better," Gale directed as he resumed the march.

...

After an hour of steady marching, Gale and his troops arrived at the outskirts of a village that once belonged to a wildling clan before they joined Rayder's army. "Is this the place?" Gale inquired, casting a searching gaze over the area, finding it eerily devoid of any signs of life.

"Aye, this is it," Val confirmed, mirroring Gale's frown. "But it's strange... it looks deserted," she remarked, her tone cautious and alert.

"Perhaps they caught wind of our arrival and fled," Threya suggested with a sigh, her frustration palpable. "That weeping cunt is slippery as ever," she added with a grunt of irritation.

"Sounds likely... but a couple hundred men can't simply vanish into thin air. They must have left some tracks," Gale remarked, displaying little surprise at the turn of events.

He had anticipated that the Weeper and his renegades wouldn't just wait to face their fate without taking action. "We just need to find their trail and pursue them," he continued, stepping forward toward the now-deserted village.

As they ventured deeper into the village, Gale approached a large pot hanging over a fading fire. Peering inside, he wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell of its contents—a murky soup that looked more like dirty water, interspersed with floating chunks of unidentifiable meat.

"Still hot... they left in a hurry not too long ago," he observed, touching the pot and feeling its residual warmth. "They can't have gone far... but what's this strange smell?" Gale wondered aloud, withdrawing from the pot and scanning the area while taking a whiff of the air.

It was an odd aroma-- a mix of rotten eggs and something cloyingly sweet.

As his gaze swept the surroundings, Gale's attention snapped upward at the sound of a swishing noise. He frowned at the sight of a flaming arrow slicing through the sky, hurtling toward the village.

In a moment of swift realization, he comprehended the danger unfolding. "Get out of the village now! It's a trap!" he yelled, swiftly raising his hand and releasing a gust of icy wind toward the incoming projectile.

"It's oil! That strange smell is bloody oil!" he shouted, bolting toward the village outskirts even as the arrow, now extinguished, harmlessly plummeted to the ground.

Without hesitation, the wildlings swiftly followed, sprinting away from the village in every direction.

Amid the chaotic escape, a barrage of flaming arrows rained down upon the village, igniting the thatched roofs of sheds and houses in an instant. Gale's timely warning allowed most of the wildlings to flee, but some struggled to keep pace.

Their desperate cries pierced the air as flames and smoke consumed them, causing Gale to abruptly halt his own escape.

Swiveling around, he spotted a group of wildlings at the village's edge, their frantic attempt to outrun the encroaching inferno appearing futile.

Gritting his teeth, Gale dashed back toward them, racing against the spreading blaze.

He devoted the next few minutes to aiding those struggling to escape. Despite his efforts, some were already engulfed too deeply in the flames for him to reach in time.

Though Gale could withstand the heat due to his powers and his body's constant coldness, he realized rescuing them was beyond his ability. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated before reaching for his bow and nocking an arrow.

Drawing a deep breath, he released the first arrow, watching as it struck a burning wildling, mercifully ending their suffering.

Gale continued to shoot, each arrow finding its mark among those unreachable by rescue. Each twang of his bowstring came with a heavy heart, knowing he couldn't save them, but he aimed to end their torment as swiftly as possible.

As the final echoes of agony faded within the crackling flames, Gale let out a heavy sigh and lowered his bow. He turned his attention to the source of the flaming arrows, the trees, his gaze darkening, and his fingers tensed around the bow, causing its wood to strain slightly.

An Ominous blue glint flickered in his eyes, and as dark veins traced across his face, he seemed on the brink of losing control and charging towards the trees where the arrows had originated.

But before Gale could act, a firm grip on his shoulder jolted him from his daze. He spun around to see Val standing behind him, her expression calm but resolute.

"You've saved many of our people... thank you," she uttered genuinely, her eyes fixed on Gale's. "Even those you had to shoot, I believe they would appreciate your mercy and thank you for it if they could," she added with a meaningful gaze.

Gale drew in a deep breath, feeling the glow in his eyes recede and the dark veins fade. "It doesn't matter," he replied, brushing off Val's hand from his shoulder. "Let's just get this over with. The sooner it ends, the fewer lives we'll lose," he declared, striding forward.

"We'll march around the village. The Weeper and his band of cunts won't get away with this!" he exclaimed, the wildlings marching in unison behind him.