Solomon's army advanced slowly, inevitably.
The wildlings fought with more ferocity than expected. The first rank of veteran shield-bearers groaned under the impact of throwing axes and charging bodies, but they held.
Spears darted out like snake tongues, puncturing the wildling mob.
Solomon had placed his veterans in the front, contrary to Westerosi tradition where levies were fodder. He needed a solid anvil.
"Hold the line! Squeeze them!" Solomon ordered, his face impassive.
He practiced this stoicism daily—pretending to be unmoved even if a mountain collapsed in front of him. It worked. The men saw his calm and felt safe.
The encirclement tightened. The wildlings were packed together, struggling to swing their weapons.
Timett son of Timett saw the end coming.
"Kill! Kill!" The one-eyed chief roared, smashing a soldier's shield with his sword. "Follow me!!"
The Burned Men threw themselves at the shield wall with suicidal fury. The line buckled. Gaps appeared.
"Plug it!!" Lushen screamed, jumping into the breach himself. He stabbed a wildling through the chest and kicked the body back. "With me!!"
Lushen was a harsh commander, but in battle, he was a god of war. His men rallied around him.
But on the right flank, Lauchlan was struggling. His men were less disciplined, and the pressure was immense.
Suddenly, a horn blasted from the rear.
Boooo-oooo-oooo-m!
A column of fire erupted behind Solomon's lines.
It was the supply train. The loot. The soldiers' hard-won gold.
Solomon's face darkened. Those bastards.
Deepden had attacked the rear. Lord Lover and his son were trying to destroy the loot rather than let Solomon keep it. It was a betrayal worthy of the Freys.
"My gold!"
"They're burning our gold!!"
Panic rippled through the ranks. The formation wavered.
Timett saw the hesitation.
"They are breaking!!" he shrieked. "Kill them! Break out!!"
"I will drink Solomon's blood!!"
The wildlings surged toward Lauchlan's weakening flank. The line shattered. Men dropped their shields to look back at the fire or fled.
It was becoming a rout.
"Shields up! Form up!!" Lushen slapped a soldier across the face. "Eyes front!!"
His left flank held by sheer force of will. But the right collapsed.
Timett led a wedge of screaming berserkers through the hole in Lauchlan's line. He was aiming straight for the slope where Solomon stood.
"Die, little lord!!"
Solomon drew his sword. The situation had spiraled. He was about to be overrun.
ROARRRRRR!!
A sound tore through the night. It wasn't human. It wasn't a horn.
It was a primal vibration that stopped hearts and froze blood.
The fighting stopped.
From the dark forest on the right flank, a shadow leaped out.
It landed on a rock, silhouetted against the flames.
It was massive. Muscular. And pitch black.
Solomon's jaw dropped. His stoic mask shattered.
"What the fuck is that??!!"