Chapter 181

Fire.

Around their supply tents.

'Fuck! Of course the Southron cunts won't sit still.'

He lamented this over sight of his.

After continuously thinking of his enemy as Southron, he had forgotten that they had wargs of their own. Wargs that they could use for sneak attacks.

He had no idea how those fucking wargs managed to light a fire like this but this was no time to think.

"Pour snow and water over the fire you fucking cunts!" he shouted and the men gave a start before they leaped into action.

Buckets upon buckets of snow and dirt was poured into the fire but it continued to burn.

What kind of fire burns green anyway?

'The fire of the sorcerer.' His mind supplied and he suddenly realized that if the wargs were here then it was highly possible that the sorcerer was here as well.

A sudden chill went down his spine at that thought but he snarled and kept ordering his people to douse the fire.

He observed that dirt was more effective than snow against the green fire so that's what he told his people to pour over the fire.

Some of the foolish cunts caught the green fire and burned to death.

He didn't gave them a second glance and told him people to continue.

By the end of half an hour the fire had been doused.

But by then everything had been lost.

All the food supplies his people had gathered over weeks and months had been turned into ash.

The food he now had left was not enough to feed them for even one day.

His people looked at him with despair and anger.

Slowly a circle formed around him as his people came to look at him for guidance to cast blame for this misfortune and he knew.

He knew that this was the moment.

This was the moment that would decide whether he would continue as the leader of this war party or he would die.

"What are we supposed to do now?" an older woman asked in despair. She probably lost a son or husband to the fire. Or to the battle a few hours before.

"What can we do now." Another younger woman said "Weeper is clearly not fit to lead. There's nothing left here. We go our own ways and hope that the Winter won't kill us all."

"It won't be Winter that kills up." Another man said and a silence took over the crowd "You know what's coming with the Winter. You know that if we remain behind the wall before this Summer ends then we would all die."

"What do you want to do then?" asked another man "Fight the Southron for the Wall?"

That brought another hush of silence in the crowd.

Their recent and crushing defeat against the Southron had brought down the moral of all his people.

If they can't fight against the Southron on a mountain and win then how could they hope to do so when the Southron are behind the Wall.

"I will fight the Southron. But not with the few people we have left." The man said. He remembered the man. He was the younger brother of Snat, the leader of the Nightrunners. The man who was now the leader of the Nightrunners after his brother's death from an arrow that pierced his head. "I'll gather the remaining tribes in the True North. Then I'll ally myself with the Thenn. And then when we have the numbers, we'll go and take on the Wall once."

"You will do that now will you?" he asked as he took a step toward Snat's younger brother with his axe in his grip "With what peope?"

"With your people." The man said, hefting his own old and battered bronze sword before the man charged toward him.