Sandor drove the dragonglass spear viciously into the White Walker's body. It immediately exploded into a large pool of shattered ice, and even beneath the bright sunlight, glittering shards of ice drifted through the air, refracting the light.
Wight remains lay scattered everywhere, gray intermingled with black like the stones of the Moon Mountains. Clearly, another Wight slaughter experiment had just been conducted here.
This experiment had been carried out a dozen leagues from the Blood Gate, and the participants were naturally Jon and Young Griff.
"Those bastards."
Sandor looked at Young Griff and the others with utter disdain.
First of all, Young Griff himself had only heard tales of the White Walkers from his tutor, Maester Haldon. He had regarded them as nothing more than legends.
Now, the terrifying monsters of legend stood so vividly before him that he was deeply shaken. Though he sat there, he looked thoroughly restless.
He placed a hand on the hilt of Blackfyre, constantly stroking the dragon-head ornament upon it.
Shireen beside him had gone even paler with fright. The hand holding her waterskin trembled without pause, and its cap kept making rapid, repeated tapping sounds.
Haldon, Young Griff's tutor and also his Grand Maester, was equally astonished. He used his staff to prod at the remains of the Wights and White Walkers, as if desperately trying to connect them to the knowledge in his memory, but he found nothing.
The main people accompanying Young Griff this time were Connington and Petyr. Petyr had shamelessly insisted on coming along.
"Ser Clegane, may I ask whether these monsters can swim?" Petyr looked at Sandor and cautiously forced a smile, one that even carried a trace of flattery.
But Sandor ignored Petyr's question and looked directly at Young Griff and Connington instead.
"Didn't King Jon