The Night King Awakens

First Men's Fist.

A towering peak stood majestically, its bare rocky summit exposed to the elements.

From halfway up the mountain, snowdrifts a full yard deep had slid down, burying a vast stretch of land at its foot.

A sudden avalanche had blocked the fastest route from First Men's Fist to the Haunted Forest.

Who had done it?

Set off the avalanche.

Meanwhile, at Hardhome.

The only seaport beyond the Wall, and the Free Folk settlement closest to a city.

High cliffs blocked the cold sea wind, and the broad, flat beach was large enough to accommodate the biggest ships.

Hundreds of thousands of Wildlings had gathered here, felling trees to build temporary shelters.

"This is our base."

Baelon wore a sour expression as he led people around the settlement.

"At least three hundred thousand people. What are you going to feed them?"

Rhaegar's eyes swept over the Free Folk, all wrapped in thick furs.

Bonfires burned in clusters, consuming great quantities of firewood.

But while they provided warmth, the smoke also drove beasts away from the settlement.

Baelon glanced at him and said arrogantly, "The Free Folk value their freedom. We live off the land and the sea."

In other words, they ate whatever they could catch.

"You've returned, King Baelon."

Suddenly, a tall man with tattoos covering his face spoke up, baring his teeth in a grin as he fixed his gaze on them.

The man was bare-chested, his teeth like two rows of spikes, his eyes gleaming with a terrifying ferocity.

Rhaegar frowned slightly, sensing something unusual.

"Well, well. You've brought a bunch of crows with you?"

The man's eyes lit up. He hefted an axe and strode toward them.

He looked as though he wanted to devour Rhaegar and the others whole.

"Senli, get lost!"