Endless white.
The sky was grey-white, the earth was snow-white, and the endless forests were draped in thick coats of white.
The cold wind cut like a knife, carrying freezing snow grit that stung the face painfully.
Lynn and his group of five were like a few insignificant black dots on this pale canvas.
They trudged northward, their feet sinking deep into the snow with every step.
Jon Snow pulled his black cloak tighter, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, scanning the surroundings vigilantly.
The other three rangers were equally silent.
Having patrolled beyond the Wall for years, they were long accustomed to this suffocating silence.
Ygritte, walking in the middle of the group, was surprisingly the most relaxed among them.
She walked with a light step, like a wildcat strolling through its own woods.
Curiosity twinkled in her grey eyes, which spent most of the time fixed on Lynn's back.
This Southerner was strange.
He clearly possessed that giant dragon capable of burning the heavens and the earth, yet he chose to measure this cold, dull land with his own two feet just like them.
What was he trying to do?
Was he actually sick in the head?
---
After a day of travel, the sky quickly darkened.
Night in the North came early and abruptly, and the temperature plummeted. One ranger's snot froze into an icicle.
They found a small cave beneath a leeward cliff face.
It could barely fit the few of them.
The rangers skillfully built a campfire.
The orange flames drove away some of the chill and became the only source of light in this darkness.
Everyone sat around the fire, gnawing on hard black bread and drinking strong spirits. No one spoke.
"Hey, Southerner."
Ygritte poked at the fire with a stick, breaking the silence first.
"What's your name?"
"Lynn. Didn't you hear Lord Commander Mormont call me that?"
Lynn wiped down Longclaw without looking up.
"I heard. Just wanted to ask again. What's it to you?"
"Lynn..."
Seeing Lynn didn't respond further, Ygritte repeated the name.
"You Southerners have strange names."
She tossed her half-eaten black bread aside, clearly unused to the taste.
She looked at Lynn, her bright eyes shining like two burning stars in the firelight.
Ygritte finally couldn't hold back.
Her voice trembled slightly in the cold wind pouring into the cave.
"Why do you kneel to a king?"
The question came out of nowhere, making a ranger beside them frown.
Lynn glanced at her, not answering directly, but asking instead, "You Free Folk kneel to no one?"
"Of course!"
Ygritte lifted her chin.
Her face wore an innate pride.
"We are the Free Folk. We trust only our bows and arrows. We bend our waists for no one!"
"Then what do you kneel to?"
Lynn's question made her pause.
"Nothing!"
"Wrong." Lynn shook his head.
"You kneel to the cold. You kneel to hunger. You kneel to death."
"When winter comes, when food runs out, when the White Walkers approach, what other meaning does your so-called freedom give you besides letting you die faster?"
Ygritte opened her mouth but found she couldn't refute him.
The freedom she took pride in became worthless in this man's mouth.
"We... we have Mance!"
"He will lead us to find a warm home!"
Ygritte said defiantly.
"So, you kneel after all."
Lynn's tone was calm.
"It's just that you kneel not to a king, but to survival."
"Kneeling has never been the goal; it is merely a means to exchange for resources to survive."
"You kneel to Mance in exchange for hope of living."
"We kneel to the King in exchange for order and peace."
"Essentially, we are no different."
Ygritte, unable to argue back, changed the subject.
"Then why do you want to help us?"
"You are a crow, a high-and-mighty Southerner. You have a blood feud with us Free Folk."
"Because we have a common enemy." Lynn's answer was concise.
"That simple?" Ygritte scoffed.
"Don't you Southerners do everything for land, gold, and women?"
"Don't tell me you're a hero who wants to save the world. I won't believe it."
"You don't have to believe it." Lynn finally looked up at her.
"But when those monsters trample over the Wall, the people you care about, and the people I care about, will all die. Without exception."
"I just don't want to see that happen. That's all."
His gaze was calm.
So calm that he didn't seem to be talking about a matter of life and death for the world, but merely stating a fact.
Ygritte felt uncomfortable under his gaze.
She looked away guiltily and huffed.
"Talk is cheap."
"A man like you must have many women in the South, right?"
"Are they all like the Queen in King's Landing? Skin as white as milk, hair as bright as gold?"
Jon and the other rangers wore strange expressions.
They hadn't expected this wildling girl to ask such a question.
"They are beautiful," Lynn didn't deny it.
"But they are also boring."
"Boring?" Ygritte looked like she had heard the biggest joke in the world.
"Wearing pretty dresses, living in big castles, dressing up every day just waiting for you to poke them—and you call that boring?"
Her words were crude and direct, making Jon beside them frown.
"You wouldn't understand."
Lynn shook his head, not wanting to get entangled in this topic.
"I don't understand."
Ygritte was relentless. She sat up straight.
The firelight outlined her lithe, wild curves.
"Women of the Free Folk learn to draw bows and shoot arrows, learn to hunt in the snow from birth."
"We feed ourselves. We choose the men we like. We sleep with them when we want, and leave when we want."
"We are free."
She looked at Lynn, a hint of provocation in her eyes.
"Your Southern women are just canaries in a cage, waiting until nightfall to be favored by men."
"No matter how beautiful, they are just pitiful little pets."
Silence fell over the cave briefly.
Lynn looked at this prickly red-haired girl before him and suddenly smiled.
She didn't seem entirely wrong.
"Sleep."
Lynn ignored her, spread the thick bear-fur coat Robb had given him against the stone wall behind him, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
The night deepened, and the fire dwindled.
The cold wind outside the cave howled like ghosts and wolves.
The temperature inside the cave dropped to a terrifying degree; even the strong, healthy rangers were shivering.
Lynn suddenly felt a warm body beside him.
He opened his eyes and saw Ygritte had scooted over at some point, pressing tightly against him.
She had taken off her heavy fur cloak and laid it on the ground beneath them.
Then, without standing on ceremony, she pulled Lynn's bear-fur coat over both of them.
"What are you looking at?"
Ygritte felt Lynn's gaze, her voice somewhat muffled in the darkness.
"If we sleep apart, we'll both turn into popsicles by tomorrow!"
Her actions were as natural as eating and drinking.
To her, this seemed like the most basic survival skill, unmixed with any other emotion.
In the dark, Lynn could smell the unique scent on her—a mix of pine, campfire smoke, and faint sweat.
He could feel the astonishing heat radiating from her body, like a small furnace.
"You Southerners are so troublesome."
Ygritte muttered, snuggling closer into Lynn's embrace.
She wrapped an arm around Lynn's waist, seemingly finding a comfortable spot, and soon her breathing evened out.
Lynn looked at the face so close to his.
Her fiery red hair was scattered over the bear fur. Her brows and eyes, usually filled with stubbornness and defiance, relaxed in sleep, looking somewhat peaceful.
Lynn reached out, inexplicably tucking a stray lock of red hair behind her ear.
---
The next day.
When the first rays of greyish morning light entered the cave, the group set off again.
Ygritte acted as if nothing had happened, walking at the front to lead the way.
Only, the look in her eyes when she occasionally glanced back at Lynn had changed slightly.
After crossing two snowy mountains and passing through an eerie forest known as the "Haunted Forest," a solitary hill appeared at the end of the horizon.
The Fist of the First Men.
It was a ring-shaped stone hill, rising from the plain like a clenched fist pointing straight at the sky.
The summit was covered in jagged rocks, barren of grass, exuding an ancient desolation.
"This is it."
Ygritte pointed at the peak.
"In our tribe's legends, this is where the First Men and the Children of the Forest signed their pact. It's an ominous place; we never go near it."
Lynn looked up, narrowing his eyes at the summit.
He could sense a faint, ancient, and icy aura emanating from the top.
The Horn of Winter should be there.
"We go up."
Lynn took the lead, walking up the hill.
The higher they went, the stronger the icy aura became.
The air seemed to turn viscous, pressing down on their chests.
Jon and the three rangers had drawn their dragonglass-embedded weapons, their expressions tense to the extreme.
When they finally stepped onto the flat stone platform at the summit, everyone stopped in their tracks.
In the center of the summit stood a figure.
Or rather, a "thing."
He was tall, wearing black armor that looked as if it were carved from ice, covered in mysterious, ancient patterns.
His skin was pale as snow, and long white hair danced in the cold wind.
Most striking was the crown of jagged, goat-like horns formed of ice crystals atop his head.
He didn't turn around, simply standing there quietly, as if he had waited for a thousand years.
But everyone knew he was watching them.
A terrifying pressure, strong enough to freeze the soul, radiated from him, rendering everyone present immobile.
Color drained instantly from Ygritte's face.
Her longbow dropped to the ground, and she collapsed as if her bones had been removed.
The three rangers tried to raise their weapons but found their arms as heavy as lead; they lacked even the courage to lift them!
The Night King!
Why was he here?
Lynn's heart sank to the bottom.
His hand was already on the hilt of Longclaw, his gaze fixed dead on that back.
He had even given up the convenience of riding the dragon just to avoid alerting the other party.
It seemed the Night King had been waiting for him here all along.
Just then, the figure slowly turned around.
The Night King's eyes, burning with ghostly blue fire, looked past everyone and landed precisely on Lynn.
There was no expression on his face.
He simply raised a hand and beckoned Lynn to come closer.