Viserys did not land straight away. He rode King Ghidorah in a circle above the Fist of the First Men, and the enormous shadow sweeping over the Wildlings' camp below immediately sent them into an uproar.
Dozens more figures burst out of the tents, grabbed weapons from the ground, and huddled together, pointing at the dragon in the sky, their faces filled with fear of the unknown beast.
Some even tried to draw their bows on him, but a man who appeared to be their leader shouted them down. He was an exceptionally tall, burly fellow wearing strange armor strung together from bones and scraps of leather, his face painted with savage black-and-white markings. This was Rattleshirt, the admirer of Mance Rayder from the original story.
Once they were all outside, Viserys chose an open patch not far from the camp and had King Ghidorah land.
The heavy dragon's body made the ground tremble slightly upon landing. The gusts stirred up snow and even blew away their tattered tents. Terrified, the Wildlings flattened themselves against the ground, only daring to lift their heads cautiously to look at the Three-Headed Beast. Viserys could hear their cries of alarm in the Old Tongue.
He jumped down from the dragon's back and walked toward the camp alone, without drawing his sword. At the sight of him, the Wildlings scrambled to their feet and crowded together as though facing a deadly enemy.
Rattleshirt stood at the front, clutching a hardwood hammer. His gaze was fierce, but he could not hide his fear. The Wildlings beside him all tightened their grips on their weapons, yet none dared charge.
Viserys stopped ten paces from them and spoke in the Common Tongue. "I have no desire to slaughter you, so I won't wage war on you. I