WiSh - Chapter 30

Chapter 30: Poverty, Cruelty, and the Tree Folk

"Possess the little girl's body; you can easily control her," the old spirit suggested.

Possessing the body of a little girl? Of the opposite sex! This posed no psychological barrier for Will. As a doctor, he had seen human anatomy and dissections. He was one of those least unfamiliar with the human body. But Will didn't do it. He didn't want to leave any aftereffects on the little girl.

Possessing the trees in the wolf woods was truly unpleasant, and Will returned to his body. The little girl in the black thorns began to retreat, and Will knew she was going to meet up with her team ahead.

Will called out to where the little girl was hiding: "Hey, kid, I see you."

The little girl, who had just half-risen, froze like a cat, her small knife slightly lifted, her eyes like a wolf's, staring at Will on horseback.

The little girl's short knife was well-made, with a guard, but she certainly couldn't afford a whetstone or oil for the blade. She might never have seen sandpaper for sharpening, and it looked like the blade lacked the protection of a scabbard.

"I'm talking to you. Come out, little girl. I have beef, ham, cheese, bread, and honey," Will patted the bags hanging from his horse.

The little girl slowly crouched down, her gaze wary, like a shadowcat, then turned and fled through the woods as fast as the wind.

She had half a wolf pelt wrapped around her waist.

Will, armed with a sword on his left—a knight's broad sword given by Harris—and on his right, the Night, laughed heartily, his voice carrying far in the wolf woods.

Having come to this world, Will didn't want to be a mediocre person. Although he was a doctor, it didn't prevent him from being a passionate young man. This was a world of ice and fire, where one could be killed by the undead or by their own kind.

Will didn't want to be killed by the undead, nor did he want to be killed by his own kind.

Now that he was alone, there was no need to hide the Night in the fur blanket he used for night lodging. The Night hung on his right because Will didn't want to use it casually. Many people could wield a single-handed sword with either hand, a skill learned from a young age, as you had to be accustomed to enemies attacking from both sides, but most people were right-handed.

Will was ambidextrous with his sword but preferred using his left hand, as he was left-handed and his swordsmanship was more formidable with that hand.

Will traveled at a steady pace until noon without anyone coming out to cause trouble. The little girl who had run away seemed as if she had never appeared. Perhaps the adversaries thought this man of the Night's Watch was dangerous and didn't want to lose several of their own before capturing two swords and a horse.

But Will knew that what was meant to come would inevitably come.

This road was hundreds of miles long, and if nothing unexpected changed, at least four clans of savage forest dwellers liked to attack passersby—of course, deciding whether to strike based on the number of opponents—and they would flee at the sight of the steel fist banner of Deepwood Motte's knights.

The clans in the forest originally had no surnames, living a primitive life of self-sufficiency, hunting, and the thrill of generations of robbery. The Glover family of Deepwood Motte, vassals of House Stark, the Lords of the North, received most of the wolfswood as their fief. To clear out the fierce marauders who had lived off robbery for generations along both sides of the King's Road in the wolfswood, the knights conducted relentless purges.

They conquered several large, settled clans with strong fighting capabilities and, with the dignity of an lord and in the name of the Old Gods, bestowed surnames related to forests, trees, branches, and trunks upon them under the heart tree of Deepwood Motte.

This formed the four clans under the banner of House Glover of Deepwood Motte: Bole, Branch, Forrester, and Woods.

Although most of the four clans were constrained by Deepwood Motte, many smaller groups could not be completely subdued, and their constantly moving settlements were hard to find. The wolf wood was complex, with vast areas of ancient forest, no less than a small kingdom. The Wolfswood Mountains to the northwest were snow-covered year-round, stretching for hundreds of miles to the Shadow Tower of the Wall. The shouting stone men of the Wolf's Wood Mountains had never been conquered by any force. Thus, even under Eddard Stark's rule, during peaceful times and the rare good days of the long summer, the road through the wolf wood was still not safe.

Even the four clans that had submitted to Deepwood Motte would occasionally come out to commit robberies, killing and looting, letting the blood of generations of thievery burn within them once more.

Will traveled through the wolfswood on the King's Road for a day without incident. The days in the forest were particularly short; it was still light outside, but darkness had fallen within the forest, as if they were two different worlds.

Howls of wolves sounded from near and far.

The wolf wood was named for the howling of wolves.

Will ate cheese and cold, hard ham and beef on horseback when he was hungry, using his short knife for both combat and as a utensil for eating.

He decided to continue traveling at night, as for someone with a thief's background, the night was safer than the day.

Up ahead was a bend in the mountain road, steep and only passable at a slow pace. The horse, with great endurance, slowed down but remained steady as a mountain.

Thwack!

The sound of a bowstring echoed. In the silent forest at night, the sound was clear.

Whoosh!

An arrow hit Will on horseback. Will swayed but did not fall off the horse.

Whoosh! whoosh! whoosh!

Three more arrows followed, hitting Will from the front, left, and right. Will fell silently, and the trained horse did not run off but stopped and raised its head.

The archers were highly skilled and would not shoot the horse, as a dead horse was worthless, especially a good one. In their eyes, horses were more valuable than human lives.

After a while, someone whistled, and seven or eight torches appeared. Some people emerged from their hiding places, all poorly dressed, impoverished tree folk. Their weapons were a hodgepodge, including sharpened sticks. Their muscles were well-developed, and they were not afraid of the cold, barefoot, wrapped in various animal skins, their eyes no different from those of wolves, all fierce and wild.

The little scout girl Will had discovered in the morning was among them.

*****

A/N: I encourage you to take a peek at my other literary endeavors. I'm confident that you'll find them captivating. They're waiting to whisk you away on new adventures.

Also, a gentle reminder: "Don't forget to vote with your Power Stones. It will be a tremendous help in getting my works noticed by a wider audience. Your votes are like beacons in the night, guiding others to the stories we've built together."