Tis But a Prank #32

After half a day of traveling, Gale and the wildlings had left the Haunted Forest behind. They now found themselves in a vast, snow-covered landscape with the intimidating Frostfangs mountains looming on the horizon. Tormund, ever watchful, noticed the sky darkening, signaling the approach of night. He decided to halt their journey.

"It's getting late. We better make camp here," Tormund announced. The wildling warriors behind him immediately stopped, and they set to work on creating a fire and preparing for the night. Accustomed to his days in the Night's Watch's rangers, Gale didn't hesitate to start organizing his own camp a short distance away from the wildlings.

Tormund observed Gale's actions with a grin but said nothing, choosing to join in the camp preparations himself. It took some time, but the two camps were finally set up. Eager to learn more about their unusual guest, Tormund turned to his companions.

"I'll go and have a word with our guest," he declared as he started heading toward Gale's location.

Threya followed Tormund closely. She was interested in getting to know this crow who had proven himself in combat against her, though she was too proud to admit it. 

"I'll accompany you," she stated, falling in step with Tormund. "Can't have the little bastard killing you while you're alone..." 

Tormund shared a knowing look with Threya, then simply shrugged. "Suit yourself," he mumbled as they continued walking toward Gale's camp. 

Upon reaching the camp, Gale gave them a disinterested look, his demeanor calm and collected. Tormund settled near the campfire while Threya remained on her feet, her eyes focused on Gale.

"It wasn't easy tracking you down, you know," Tormund remarked, his gaze fixed on Gale as if he were some sort of exotic creature. "You and your friends left no traces in the snow... aside from the wights you massacred by the dozens," he added with a hearty chuckle.

Gale regarded Tormund with a sideways glance, his expression seemingly uninterested. "Is that so?" he responded dryly. "I'll be sure to cover up any mess I leave in the future..."

"With the kind of messes you and your friends left for us to find... I doubt that's possible," Tormund said, scratching his beard. He leaned forward, getting to the point. "Tell me, how is it that a party of four crows could kill over fifty wights?" Tormund inquired, his eyes drilling into Gale, trying to discern the truth.

Aware that no lie he could conjure would satisfy Tormund's curiosity, Gale chose to keep his thoughts hidden. "I suppose we got lucky," he calmly replied, his tone carefully neutral.

"Luck, eh?" Tormund said with a grin, clearly attempting to provoke Gale into revealing more than he intended. "I suppose even a pretty southerner, wet behind his ears, would be able to slaughter a horde of wights if he got lucky enough."

Gale responded with a nonchalant shrug. "What can I say? I guess I have all the luck in the world," he said, avoiding Tormund's bait and keeping his composure.

Tormund laughed heartily. "I wouldn't go that far... you're traveling with a pack of savage wildlings, heading straight into their den, after all," he pointed out, his eyes sharp as he assessed Gale's reactions.

Still, Gale maintained his calm demeanor, offering a sly smile. "Maybe I'll get lucky again. Who knows?" he quipped.

Tormund regarded Gale for a moment and couldn't help but laugh again. "You're an interesting lad, I'll give you that much," he admitted, shaking his head. "And speaking of which... I happened upon a very interesting scene while tracking you down..."

Gale raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity. "Oh? And what would that be?"

Tormund's eyes narrowed as he leaned closer. "A battleground like no other," he explained, his tone low and intrigued. "Trees snapped in half, patches of exposed dirt within the snow... it almost looked like two gods fought to the death there... except there were no corpses... just a bit of blood."

Looking straight into Gale's eyes, he inquired, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" 

Gale remained unperturbed by Tormund's revelation. "I doubt the gods are bored enough to start tearing each other's throats in the middle of nowhere," he replied with a blank expression. "Are you sure you're not exaggerating what you saw? Maybe it was two bears fighting over territory or something," he suggested.

Tormund chuckled at Gale's response. "No bear I know can snap a tree in half," he said, his amusement evident. "And I know my eyes aren't playing tricks on me," he added.

Gale shrugged, maintaining his air of nonchalance. "Well, you're the expert on these lands. As for me, I'm a pretty southerner, wet behind the ears..." he casually commented. "Whatever happened, your guess would be better than mine."

Tormund grinned at Gale. "You're not wrong there," he said as he got to his feet. "But we've got more work to do, so I'll leave you to it for now," he added before walking away. 

Threya, who had been observing the exchange with a skeptical look, followed behind Tormund.

It was already midnight, and as Tormund and Threya sat at the wildling camp, taking the first watch shift, Threya couldn't help but cast a skeptical look at Gale, who appeared to be sound asleep in his camp. 

"Got lucky," she said with a scoff. "Little bastard is so full of shit." She added.

Tormund shot her a curious look. "You think he's the one who slaughtered the wights?" he asked.

Threya shook her head. "No," she replied, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "But he's definitely hiding something. It doesn't add up."

Tormund sighed, gazing at Gale for a moment before returning his attention to Threya. "Well, it doesn't really matter. We'll find out soon enough."

As they continued their conversation, one of their wildling companions slowly rose from his bedroll. His face bore a series of line-shaped scars, and he cast a glance at Tormund before shifting his gaze to Gale's camp.

Tormund grinned and shrugged, clearly understanding the man's intentions.

Threya initially looked confused, but realization suddenly dawned on her. She said nothing as she watched the scarred wildling slowly draw his sword and stealthily move toward Gale's sleeping form.

The would-be assassin stood over Gale, poised to strike with a wicked grin, but just as he was about to plunge his sword into Gale's chest, Gale's body abruptly shifted, and the assailant found himself tumbling backward.

Threya and Tormund watched in confusion as the man hit the ground, his lifeless gaze directed at the night sky, a jagged black knife protruding from his face.

"Pretending to be asleep, eh?" Tormund muttered with a chuckle. "He's no slouch, it seems," he added, shaking his head.

Threya rolled her eyes at Tormund's amusement. "So you've learned something new, and we're down one Thenn," she said. "You're more shrewd than you let on," she added, giving Tormund a meaningful look.

Tormund feigned innocence. "What ever do you mean?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Threya scowled at his feigned ignorance. "I saw you whispering with the Thenn earlier... I know for a fact you would have killed him for 'assaulting a guest' even if he managed to kill the little bastard," she stated with a hint of irritation in her voice.

Tormund let out a hearty laugh at Threya's agreement. "You know what they say," he quipped, a mischievous glint in his eye. "The only good Thenn is a dead Thenn."

"I won't argue that," Threya replied, her scowl deepening. "I fucking hate Thenns."

Tormund chuckled, nodding in agreement. "I'm sure the crow's not fond of them either. It's a win-win situation," he added with a grin, his amusement evident.

With that, Tormund got to his feet and made his way toward Gale, who was still peacefully resting in his camp. "Now then, let's go and apologize to our southerner guest for interrupting his beauty sleep," he said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

Threya grimaced at the thought of having to apologize to Gale and decided to stay seated, leaving Tormund to handle the awkward situation he'd created on his own.

...

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