After escaping the wildling camp, Jon and Alys moved cautiously through the dense forests, their disguises as wildlings holding up surprisingly well. Jon had smeared dirt on his face and donned a ragged fur cloak, while Alys had tied her hair back and wrapped herself in a tattered shawl. They looked the part, and the wildlings they encountered paid them little mind.


    One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, they stumbled upon a small wildling family huddled around a fire. The family, a grizzled man, his wife, and two young children, welcomed Jon and Alys with wary hospitality.


    “Sit,” the man said, gesturing to the fire. “You look like you’ve been through the hells.”


    Jon and Alys exchanged a glance before sitting down. The warmth of the fire was a welcome relief, and the smell of roasting meat made Jon’s stomach growl.


    As they ate, the man leaned forward, his eyes dark with fear. “You hear the stories?” he asked, his voice low.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Jon shook his head, playing the part of a clueless wanderer. “What stories?”


    The man’s wife spoke up, her voice trembling. “The White Walkers. They’re coming. They’ve been seen beyond the Frostfangs. They’ll kill us all if we don’t find a way to stop them.”


    Jon’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “White Walkers? Those are just tales to scare children.”


    The man shook his head, his face grim. “No. They’re real. And they’re coming. Some say the fertilizers the southerners have—the ones that make the crops grow—might placate them. Maybe they’ll take the food and leave us alone.”


    Jon’s mind raced. The idea of using the food and fertilizer to appease the White Walkers was absurd, but the fear in the wildlings’ eyes was real.


    <hr>


    Later that night, as Jon and Alys lay under the stars, Shadow appeared beside them, his smoky form blending with the darkness.


    “Do you think it’s true?” Jon asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “About the White Walkers?”


    Shadow’s glowing eyes narrowed. “You exist, Jon. I exist. Why not them?”


    Jon frowned, his mind struggling to process the idea. “But... they’re just stories.”


    “So was I, once,” Shadow said, his voice a low hum in Jon’s mind. “The world is full of things men don’t understand. And if the White Walkers are real, we need to be ready.”


    Jon nodded, his resolve hardening. “Then we’ll prepare. But first, we need to get back to the Wall.”