Hunting was truly grueling work for hunters.
They had to carry their gear, set traps, climb over ice and sleep in snow, eating unpalatable rations as they waited for prey to appear.
Even so, there was still a high chance of failure. Even excellent hunters had no more than a fifty percent success rate on any given hunt.
For nobles, however, hunting was a pleasure. They had hunting grounds of their own.
The Wolfswood, for instance, was practically Stark's hunting ground, while the Kingswood belonged to the royal family.
Before a hunt, people would first mark out an area and drive out wild deer, wolves, and the like. Hunting hounds would chase the prey throughout the process.
As for the nobles, they merely needed to sip tea and enjoy pastries, sit leisurely atop their horses, and draw their bows to take aim.
In other words, hunting was an "assassin game" for common hunters, but a "shooting game" for nobles.
The two were fundamentally different.
Right now, Jon felt like a noble out hunting. The soldiers had surrounded The Mountain, and under his command, they fled like panicked prey, steadily exhausting themselves as they ran.
At this point, The Mountain and his men felt that their armor was no longer sturdy protection, but a crushing burden.
At most, they could launch one more charge or make one more retreat. After that, they would be at the mercy of others.
The Mountain leaned on his greatsword, gasping for breath. Watching Jon lead his troops toward him beneath the rising sun, he knew that today, he would either be captured or die here.
Using his abnormal height to survey the surroundings, he suddenly realized that Jon's army was not as large as he had imagined. Unable to figure out why, he could not