Of course, once they saw the dragon, they found it harder to believe that the young man before them had truly killed such monsters with his own hands. In their eyes, he might have had help from the three-headed dragon behind him.
A young Free Folk warrior muttered, "Who knows if his dragon burned the Others to death while he just stood behind it and watched, then went up to stab them a few times afterward?"
An older member of the Free Folk beside him shot him a glare and said sternly, "Shut up. Have you ever seen those monsters? I have. They turn straight into ice when they die. How could anyone get a chance to stab them afterward? Besides, I think even the threat of the Others pales before a dragon. And anyone who can tame a dragon this powerful is no ordinary man. Don't bring trouble down on our tribe."
Viserys ignored the whispers around him. Still watching Styr, he said, "You can choose not to believe me and keep standing here, building walls out of your pride. But when the Others truly arrive, your spears will shatter, and your warriors will become part of their army. Then you won't be living on your feet. You'll die on your feet, only to rise again as wights."
As he spoke, he turned to face the entire camp and raised his voice, his tone even. "I didn't come here to give you orders. I only came to tell you the truth. Choosing to head south isn't cowardice. It's survival. Once you're south, you'll have the Wall to defend you against the Others. But here?"
He nudged the frozen ground beneath his feet and continued, "Here, there's nothing but open ground and ever-deepening cold. The Others won't stop. They'll keep