Viserys did not choose to land directly. Instead, he steered Ghidorah in a circle above the Fist of the First Men. The massive shadow swept over the wildling camp below, immediately causing a commotion.
Dozens more figures scurried out of their tents, grabbing weapons from the ground and huddling together. They pointed at the giant dragon in the sky, their expressions filled with fear of the unknown beast.
Some even tried to draw their bows and aim at him, but they were shouted down by a man who seemed to be their leader. He was an exceptionally tall and burly man wearing strange leather armor made of bones and scraps of hide, his face painted with hideous black and white oil. He was none other than "Rattleshirt," who in the original story worshipped Mance Rayder.
Seeing that they had all come out, Viserys chose an empty clearing not far from the camp and had Ghidorah land.
The heavy dragon's body caused the ground to vibrate slightly upon landing. The resulting air current swirled the snow and even blew away their dilapidated tents. The Wildlings crawled on the ground in terror, only daring to cautiously look up at the three-headed beast. Viserys could hear them exclaiming in the Old Tongue.
He jumped off the dragon's back, did not draw his sword, and walked toward the camp alone. When the Wildlings saw him, they immediately acted as if facing a great enemy, scrambling up and crowding together.
Rattleshirt stood at the front, holding a hardwood hammer. His eyes looked fierce, but they carried an undeniable fear. The Wildlings around him also gripped their weapons tightly, but no one dared to charge.
Viserys stopped ten paces away from them and spoke to them in the common tongue. "I do not wish to go on a killing spree, so I will not wage war against you. I have only come here to handle one matter and will not harm you unless you strike first."
The Wildlings looked at each other; very few among them understood the common tongue. Rattleshirt, at the front, mumbled a few words in the Old Tongue; he clearly did not understand. At that moment, a figure squeezed out from the back of the crowd.
It was a girl who looked only twelve or thirteen years old, wrapped in an oversized fur coat. She had a head of fiery red, somewhat messy short hair, and her face was dotted with light brown freckles.
Her eyes were large and a bright blue. At the moment, they were wide open, unabashedly sizing up Viserys and Ghidorah behind him, showing more curiosity than fear.
"He says he doesn't want to fight us," the girl first said to Rattleshirt and the others in the Old Tongue.
Then she turned to Viserys and said in somewhat stiff but understandable common tongue, "My name is Ygritte, which means 'Kissed by Fire.' Are you a crow? A crow riding such a thing?"
Because Viserys's clothes were black and red, with black being the dominant color, she had made that assumption.
Viserys looked at her with understanding; it was indeed Ygritte.
In the original story, Ygritte was an important character. Her love-hate relationship with Jon, her understanding of freedom, and her ultimate tragic death all bore witness to the various prophecies. Although she appeared quite young at this time, she already possessed that wild temperament.
"I am not a member of the Nights Watch." Viserys looked at her but did not approach. "My name is Viserys Targaryen, and I come from south of the Wall. Rest assured, I am not here today to fight the Free Folk."
Ygritte was somewhat surprised to hear Viserys call them Free Folk instead of Wildlings; after all, that had never happened before. Moreover, she had heard of the name Targaryen while learning the common tongue.
"Targaryen? Then are you the king of those Kneelers south of the Wall?" Ygritte blinked and said, "You say you won't fight us, so what have you come to the Fist of the First Men for? We were here first."
Clearly, Ygritte's courage had grown because of Viserys's amiable manner, and she had actually begun to question him.
"I am the King of the South," Viserys said playfully. "Previously, I indeed had no interest in you and was willing to let you leave, but now I have one requirement. You, come with me."
Ygritte was stunned. "What? Why should I go with you?"
"Because I can let your companions leave alive." Viserys's tone was calm but carried an air that brooked no argument. "You come with me, and I let them leave safely. You refuse, or if they try to attack me, then there will be a few more corpses here today. The choice is simple."
Ygritte looked back and shouted a few sentences in the Old Tongue. Rattleshirt and the other Wildlings began to talk in low voices, the atmosphere tense.
At that moment, Ghidorah's middle head rose slightly, and a low growl emanated from deep within its throat, a faint golden light flickering in its gullet.
The Wildlings clearly understood the threat. Rattleshirt's expression shifted rapidly. He suddenly spoke a few quick sentences to Ygritte in the Old Tongue, then waved his hand, leading the other Wildlings as they turned and ran, rushing down the peak without hesitation to disappear into the forest.
Originally, he had some designs on Ygritte. After all, a wildling woman could become a woman and bear children after her flowering. This seemed to be a universal rule in the world of Ice and Fire that everyone followed.
However, the difference with Wildlings was that they did not need the woman's consent for such matters; as long as they could enter their tents at night, even force was acceptable. He hadn't made a move before because he was waiting. After all, life for Wildlings was meager, and it was normal for it to come later than for average people.
But now, life was obviously more important.
Ygritte watched the direction in which her companions had vanished, dumbfounded. Her face first flushed red for a moment, then turned pale, and finally, she could only settle into a sense of betrayed anger and helplessness.
"A bunch of gutless rabbits," she cursed in the Old Tongue, then turned to Viserys, her tone becoming low. "Fine, you win. I'll go with you." Although she said those people had no guts, she herself did not dare to resist Viserys.
Viserys nodded. Just then, he heard another sound—the slight flapping of a bird's wings. He looked up and indeed saw a pure black crow landing on a nearby bare branch, its three eyes staring straight at him.
Viserys's heart stirred, knowing the real business had arrived. He pointed to the crow on the tree and said to Ygritte, "Follow it. It knows the way to the place we are going."
The black crow gave a caw, spread its wings, and flew toward the depths of the forest. Viserys remounted Ghidorah, but flew slowly so that Ygritte could keep up.
Although she had only caught a glimpse, Ygritte felt she hadn't been mistaken: that crow had three eyes.
The Three-Eyed Crow made her think of rumors she had heard before, but Ygritte gritted her teeth, tightened her furs, and set off in the direction Viserys had left, trudging after him with uneven steps.
Under the guidance of the Three-Eyed Crow, the forest below grew denser. Moreover, the towering pines and oaks were gradually replaced by a type of tree with dark red leaves—weirwood tree.
On the trunks of these ancient weirwood trees, faces were mostly carved. Those faces were weeping or laughing, appearing exceptionally eerie in the dim light.
Ygritte seemed to have some fear of this forest. She followed closely behind Viserys and the others, no longer looking around as before, only occasionally murmuring something in the Old Tongue, likely praying for the protection of the gods.
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