Jake fell forty-seven times before he figured out how to walk.
He counted. It gave him something to focus on besides the frustration.
Fall one through ten: Couldn't even stand up properly. Just toppled over immediately.
Fall eleven through twenty: Could stand, but lost balance trying to lift his leg.
Fall twenty-one through thirty: Could lift his leg, but couldn't shift his weight forward.
Fall thirty-one through forty: Could shift weight, but couldn't place his foot down without collapsing.
Fall forty-one through forty-six: Almost had it. So close. But kept tipping over at the last second.
Fall forty-seven: Face-planted into an ice boulder.
"This is pathetic. I'm a grown man who can't figure out how to walk. Well. Grown zombie. Whatever."
But on attempt forty-eight, something clicked.
The horde was resting again. Kazhor had ridden off somewhere, leaving the wights sitting in the snow. Jake had maybe an hour. Maybe less.
He stood up, fighting the rest command. His body trembled with the effort.
Then he focused. Not just on moving his leg. On everything. Weight distribution. Balance. Momentum. All the little things his living body had done automatically.
He lifted his right leg. Shifted his weight to his left. Leaned forward slightly. Placed his right foot down. Shifted weight to it. Lifted his left leg.
One step.
He wobbled. Nearly fell. But caught himself.
"Holy crap. I did it. I took a step."
His thoughts were still foggy. Hard to hold complex ideas. But this was simple. This was real.
He took another step. Then another. Each one was a struggle. Each one took total concentration.
But he was walking.
Slowly. Awkwardly. Like a toddler learning for the first time. But walking.
"Okay. Okay. Don't get excited. Focus. There's a rabbit about twenty yards in that direction."
He looked at where the rabbit was still digging in the snow, completely oblivious to his presence.
Jake walked toward it. One painful step at a time.
Five steps. Ten steps. Fifteen.
The rabbit looked up suddenly.
Its ears perked as it saw him approaching. It stared at the shambling wight.
It tensed to run.
"No. No no no. Don't run. Please don't run."
Jake tried to move faster. Tried to lunge forward. His body lurched ahead, off-balance.
The rabbit bolted.
Jake crashed to the snow. Again.
"Damn it!"
He lay there, face down, watching the rabbit disappear into the white landscape.
So close. He'd been so close.
Days passed. The horde marched. Rested. Marched again.
But something had changed. Jake had taken steps. Real steps. He knew he could do it now.
He just needed practice. And another opportunity.
The opportunity came three days later.
Another rest period. Kazhor rode off. The wights sat.
And this time, there were two rabbits. Playing. Or fighting. Jake couldn't tell which. They rolled around in the snow together, fifteen yards from the horde.
Jake stood up. Slower this time. More controlled.
He walked toward them. Step. Step. Step. His movements were smoother now. Still awkward, but improving.
The rabbits were distracted. Didn't notice him until he was ten yards away.
One bolted immediately. Too fast and already gone.
But the other hesitated. Just for a second. Confused by the shambling corpse.
That second was enough.
Jake lunged forward. Not gracefully. He basically fell forward with his arms stretched out.
His frozen hands closed around white fur.
The rabbit shrieked. A high-pitched sound that cut through the silent wasteland. It kicked with powerful hind legs, trying to break free. Its claws raked across Jake's forearms, tearing frozen flesh. Black blood oozed out, sluggish and cold.
Jake didn't let go. Couldn't feel the pain. Just held on.
The rabbit twisted in his grip, impossibly flexible. Its head whipped around and teeth sank into his thumb. Sharp little teeth meant for stripping bark. They punched through his frozen skin, scraped against bone.
His thumb came off. Just popped right off. The rabbit had it in its mouth.
"Are you kidding me?"
But Jake still had nine fingers. His other hand clamped down on the rabbit's neck and squeezed.
The rabbit thrashed harder. Desperate now. Its hind legs kicked at his chest, tore at his ragged furs. One claw caught his cheek, ripped a line down his face.
Jake squeezed harder. His wight strength, that base 5 Strength stat, finally showed its worth. His fingers dug into soft fur, found the thin neck beneath, and pressed.
The rabbit's kicks grew weaker. Its movements more frantic. More desperate.
Then sluggish.
Then it went limp.
Jake lay there in the snow, holding the dead rabbit, missing a thumb, with claw marks across his face and arms.
[+1 EP]
[Total: 7/1,000]
He wanted to cry.
He couldn't. No tears. Dead bodies didn't cry.
But he wanted to.
"I did it. I actually did it. I killed something on my own. I got a point."
Just one point. One measly point out of a thousand.
But it was his point. He'd earned it. Not because Kazhor commanded. Not because the horde hunted. Because Jake Morrison decided to hunt and made it happen.
The rabbit had fought back. Hard. Harder than he'd expected. These weren't defenseless creatures. They were survivors in a frozen wasteland. They had claws. Teeth. Strength.
And they used them.
Jake looked at his missing thumb. It was already regenerating. Bone forming first, then muscle, then frozen flesh. The process was slow. Painful in a distant way. But it was happening.
"One point. First point that's actually mine."
The notification had said +1 EP, which meant rabbits were worth less than foxes or wolves. But that was fine. That was okay.
Because he'd proven he could do it.
He could hunt.
The fog was still there. Thick. Heavy. Hard to think through.
0.7% control now. Barely different from 0.6%.
"Seven EP. Seven out of a thousand. Still so far to go."
He looked at the dead rabbit. Blood stained its white fur. His black blood mixed with its red blood in the snow. A complete mess.
Then a thought pushed through the fog: He needed to hide the evidence.
If Kazhor came back and saw a dead rabbit near the horde, he might investigate. Might realize one of his wights had acted independently.
Jake pushed himself up and stood. His regenerating thumb was already half-formed. He walked, still awkward and shaky, to a nearby ice formation. Shoved the rabbit corpse into a crevice. Covered it with snow.
"Hidden. No evidence."
He walked back to where the other wights sat. Let himself collapse back into a sitting position.
Just in time.
Kazhor appeared around an ice cliff, riding his elk. The White Walker surveyed his horde. Blue eyes scanning.
Jake sat perfectly still. Slack jaw. Empty stare. Mindless.
Kazhor's gaze passed over him.
Moved on.
RISE. MARCH.
The horde stood and began moving.
Jake's body obeyed the command. But internally, through the thick fog, he felt something.
Pride. Maybe. Hard to tell through the haze.
"I did it. I hunted. I hid the evidence. And he didn't notice."
It was a small victory. Tiny, really.
But it was his.
Over the next week, Jake hunted twice more.
Both times when Kazhor left the horde to scout or report to other White Walkers.
The first attempt failed. The rabbit was too fast. Jake couldn't catch it. He'd tried to corner it against an ice wall, but the rabbit found a gap in the ice and squeezed through. Jake's frozen hands scraped against the ice, too large to follow.
He'd stood there, frustrated, watching the rabbit's white tail disappear into the crevice.
[+0 EP]
"Strike one."
The second attempt succeeded. He'd learned from the first failure. This time, he checked for escape routes before making his move. Found a rabbit in an open area. No ice formations nearby. No cover.
The chase was brief. The rabbit ran in a straight line. Jake followed, his awkward gait eating up distance. The rabbit was faster in short bursts, but Jake didn't tire. Couldn't tire. He just kept coming.
The rabbit's sprint slowed. Its legs grew sluggish. It was exhausted.
Jake wasn't.
He caught it from behind and grabbed its hind legs. The rabbit screamed, twisted, bit at his hands. Drew more black blood.
But Jake held on. Pulled it close. Got both hands around its body. Squeezed until the struggling stopped.
[+1 EP]
[Total: 8/1,000]
The third attempt succeeded too. He'd started learning the rabbits' patterns. Where they went. How they moved. This one was digging near a frozen stream. Jake approached from downwind. Moved slowly. The rabbit didn't notice until he was five feet away.
It bolted immediately. Jake was ready. He dove forward, arms outstretched.
His hand caught its back leg. The rabbit shrieked, kicked, twisted. Its claws tore furrows in his frozen face. One claw caught his eye directly. The blue glow flickered as the eye was damaged.
Jake didn't let go. Pulled the rabbit close despite its thrashing. Got his other hand on it. Found its neck and twisted hard.
The rabbit went still.
[+1 EP]
[Total: 9/1,000]
His eye regenerated over the next hour. The blue glow returned as frozen tissue knit back together.
"They fight back. Every single one fights back. This isn't easy. This is never going to be easy."
But he was getting better. Faster. More efficient.
Nine EP. 0.9% control.
The fog was still thick. Still overwhelming. But maybe, just maybe, it was slightly thinner than before. Hard to tell. Thoughts still slipped away like water through his fingers.
His body responded a bit better. Walking was becoming slightly more natural. He could move his arms with less concentration. Could grasp things without thinking about every finger. His regenerating thumb was fully formed now.
"Almost at 10 EP. One more point and I'll have 1% control. That's... that's ten times what I started with."
The math was simple. But what 1% actually meant, he didn't know. Would it even help?
"One more rabbit. Just one more."
The opportunity came on what Jake thought was day thirty-one.
The horde stopped in a wide valley. Kazhor dismounted.
REST.
The wights sat.
Kazhor rode away and disappeared behind ice formations.
And Jake saw it immediately: A rabbit. Fat one. Slow. Digging in the snow just ten yards from the horde.
"Perfect."
Jake stood up. The resistance to the command was easier now. Still took effort, but less than before.
He walked toward the rabbit. Step, step, step. Still awkward but smoother than his first attempts.
The rabbit looked up and saw him standing there. It tensed immediately.
Jake didn't lunge. Didn't rush. Just kept walking with steady, inevitable movements.
The rabbit bolted left.
Jake had seen this before. Three other rabbits had done the same thing. When approached from this angle, they went left toward cover.
He shifted direction and cut it off.
The rabbit tried to turn. Too late. Jake was already there.
His hands grabbed. The rabbit kicked and bit and struggled. Its claws raked his arms, its teeth found his wrist, its powerful legs hammered his chest.
But Jake's grip didn't loosen. His frozen fingers were locked around its body.
He squeezed hard. Felt ribs crack under his grip. The rabbit's struggles grew weaker. More frantic. Then stopped.
The rabbit went limp.
[+1 EP]
[Total: 10/1,000]
And something changed.
It wasn't dramatic. No flash of light. No surge of power.
But the fog in his mind... shifted. Just barely. Like a heavy blanket had been pulled back an inch.
Jake could think a little better.
Not well. Not clearly. But better than before.
"I'm at 10 EP now. 1% control. And I can... I can think a bit better. Not much, but better."
He looked at the rabbit in his hands. Dead and limp. Its white fur was stained with red and black blood. His hands were torn up badly. Claw marks covered his arms and chest. His wrist had a chunk missing where the rabbit had bit through.
But he'd won.
"Four hunts. Three successes. One failure. That's... that's good, right? Better than zero successes."
The math was still hard through the fog. Percentages were beyond him.
He looked at the sitting wights. Empty and mindless.
Then at his torn hands. Already regenerating.
"I can hunt rabbits now. I need 990 more EP. That's... a lot. Really a lot."
The numbers were huge and overwhelming. But at least he could process them now without forgetting mid-thought.
"Hunt whenever Kazhor leaves. Every opportunity. Every rabbit, every fox, everything."
The strategy was simple enough to hold in his foggy mind.
Jake hid the rabbit corpse and returned to his spot. He sat down.
Waited for Kazhor to return.
The fog was still there. Still thick. 99% of it was still locked away.
But 1% was better than 0%.
And determination, even through fog, was still determination.
"One point at a time. I'll get there. I'll evolve. I'll get out of this frozen hell."