Me and my band a men…. we be a runnin’, runnin’ from the danger that be all around us, danger from other tribes… and danger from the ones once frozen. T’was a quiet day with a slight breeze, perfect for listening to the Old Gods. I be bending down by that tree. You know the one. It looks a woman frozen in time, conjured by the Children of the Forest. Though North of the Wall, she be legend. Though most don’t see, they know.
I listened, listened ever so careful. To hear them… to hear what they say, the wisdom they do tell, you must be still… as still as that tree woman, and listen. The Old Gods will do tell you… through the breeze winding about the trees, through the rustling of the leaves, through the ebbing flow of a stream. They tell me, “Go now…. go now, go as far south as south goes. They be all about you, the frozen ones. I look up and glance over, and there one be. Frozen in terror, I move not. I dare not breathe. The monster man rips the head off the Wilding, tearing his arms and legs off and throwing him asunder.
Since then my band, we do wander on southward, pillaging as we go… foraging for food if there be no pillage to gain. Do know it. They are awake. They are out there. They be coming. Do be warned. Just North of the Wall, there be White Walkers. The Old Gods do say so, and I did see.