The dust slowly cleared, revealing the appalling ruins.
The Bloody Gate, which had guarded the Vale for a thousand years and was said to be impregnable, was now... nothing but rubble.
Tormund stood with his mouth open.
That mouth, big enough to fit a fist, could not make a sound.
He simply stared blankly at the enormous creature, who looked utterly innocent and even scratched his ice-crystal head.
He... he had only wanted him to touch it.
Yes, just touch it. That was all.
Who the fuck knew this fellow's "gentle touch" could wipe out an entire wall?!
"Tormund!"
Mance Rayder's voice burned with barely contained fury.
He grabbed Tormund by the collar, veins bulging on his normally composed face.
"You're in trouble now!"
"We're an army now! Do you think you can still do whatever you like, pissing wherever you please like before?"
Mance pointed at the ruins, now reduced to a heap of rubble, his finger trembling.
"What were Lynn's orders?"
"To keep them tied down!"
"Not to fucking tear down the gate!"
"I... how was I supposed to know he was that strong?"
Tormund drew his neck in, looking unusually sheepish.
He looked into the Frost Giant's still pure, innocent blue eyes and felt horribly wronged.
"I just... saw he was bored and told him to touch it. Just touch it..."
"That's what you call touching it?!"
Mance nearly choked on his rage.
Now the whole plan was in shambles.
With the Bloody Gate destroyed, the Vale lay wide open.
Were they supposed to go in or not?
Going in would mean disobeying Lynn's orders and changing the strategy without authorization.
But not going in?
The gate was already gone. If they still refused to enter, what was this, performance art?
The surrounding Wildling chiefs were equally