The Magic Dragons loathed Wights, and loathed White Walkers even more.
The White Walkers radiated the power of ice, while the Magic Dragons represented blood and fire. The two forces opposed each other.
The heat and sulfurous smell brought by the Magic Dragons filled the air, contending with the white mist. All three dragons were eager to act.
The White Walker dismounted from its undead horse and made a piercing, eerie sound that caused intense pain.
The White Walker drew a Frozen Crystal Sword, hooked it back, then turned it over as it watched the spear hurled down from the sky.
The White Walker moved as lightly as a snowflake, and its armor seemed to change color with its movements.
One moment it was white as fresh snow, the next black as shadow, with deep gray-green shades of the forest scattered throughout. With every step it took, the patterns upon it shifted like moonlight shimmering on water.
White Walkers could appear without a sound, like white shadows in the darkness, then vanish again.
It was not merely because White Walkers were light and agile, their footsteps swift and soft upon the snow. Their armor could also change color, concealing them exceptionally well.
"The White Walkers' armor is so extraordinary that they can hide nearby as though invisible. The armor reflects light, allowing them to blend into their surroundings." Gendry watched the Frozen Crystal Armor, its patterns rippling like light on water.
If that was indeed the case, the Wildlings naturally could not spot the White Walkers in the gloom.
No wonder Tormund and the others said the White Walkers had always been there. They might truly have been following all along rather than attacking in force.
Beneath the dark clouds, Gendry and the others saw the White Walker's full appearance.