Prologue

—No swords! — Jon Snow screamed. —Wick, save that...

... knife, he must have meant. But when one of his Crows threw a slash into his throat, the word turned into a growl. The Lord Crow managed to dodge the dagger enough that he barely scratched him.

He saw him put his hand around his neck, blood running between his fingers.

—Why?

—For the Guard. —The Crow replied and attacked again, but the Lord Crow caught him by the wrist and bent his arm until he released the dagger. The gangly Crow took a few steps back, with his hands raised, as if to say "I have not been, I have not been." The men were screaming. The Lord Crow reached for his sword, but for some reason, he was unable to draw it.

Suddenly another Crow appeared, he was also carrying a knife.

—For the Guard. —He stabbed the Big Crow in the belly. And when he withdrew his hand, he left the gun pinned.

The Lord Crow fell to his knees. Groping, he grabbed the dagger and tore it off. The wound gave off white smoke in the cold night air.

—Ghost— he whispered then.

When the third dagger sank between his shoulder blades, he let out a growl and fell face-first into the snow. After which he didn't move anymore, even when the fourth dagger was nailed.

The moment the Crow Lord seemed to have died, he was no longer able to stay there, just watching.

«Damn, they killed the Crow Lord, he is the only one who allowed us to cross south, I must inform Tormund»

Quickly, I went to that place they called the Hall of the Shield.

As he ran, a huge white shadow rushed to where the Lord Crow had been killed.

A multitude of screams echoed then.

­—Fuck, the damn Wolf!

«That must be the Lord Crow's Huargo. It's true, he was a Warg. Stupid kneeling, they only searched for their own deaths. There's no point in killing a Skinchanger if you don't kill his beast. »

The uproar intensified, and cries of pain and agony echoed through the clamor.

«The traitorous Crows may already be dead by the time you bring the others. »

I arrived at the Shield Hall, and there, a large number of members of the free people were drinking, all those who most respected the Lord Crow otherwise.

Upon entering, Tormund looked in my direction, did not approach, just shouted as loud as I could.

—The Crows betrayed their Lord Crow! They killed him!

Tormund's alcohol-red complexion turned even redder.

I carried his horn to his lips and breathed, the sound was long and deafening. When everyone present was silent, I bellowed:

—Those fucking kneelings! Traitors, all wretched traitors! Take up your weapons and follow me, let the traitorous Crows pay to kill the Lord Crow!

As if it were just one, everyone got up from their seats, took their weapons and left the room.

Tormund was the last, and before leaving he told me:

—Well done boy, the Lord Crow may have been kneeling, but was my friend and he was one of us, and no one kills a friend of Tormund's Giants-bane by the back, and he is left without knowing his creators for a long time.

Together with Tormund I went to the place where the Lord Crow had been killed, and when we arrived, several Crows were lying in the snow, their arms and legs torn or injured, but they all remained alive. And next to the body of the Lord Crow was the White Huargo, his jaws stained with blood.