Capítulo 25: Chapter 25: A Frostbitten Path
Clark Kent's POV
The biting cold clung to the air as Clark trudged alongside Tormund, Ygritte, and the mixed group of Wildlings—the Ice River Clan, Tormund's band—all united in their trek toward the Frostfangs. Snow crunched beneath their boots, and the icy wind howled through the scattered trees. Clark's breath remained steady, unaffected by the chill, but he didn't let his invulnerability make him oblivious to the struggles of those around him.
Among them, children were carried by parents wrapped in patched furs, and hardened warriors glanced warily at their surroundings. The uneasy alliance between the clans hadn't erased their inherent mistrust, but desperation for survival had brought them together.
Tormund's booming voice broke the monotony. "What do you think of this Mance, eh? King-Beyond-the-Wall, they call him. Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"
Clark glanced sideways. "It's not the title that matters—it's what he's done to earn it. He's managed to unite a lot of people. That's no small feat."
Tormund chuckled. "True enough. But uniting Free Folk's like herding snow leopards. One wrong step, and the claws come out."
Ygritte, walking slightly ahead, tossed back her red hair and added, "Mance is clever, but clever doesn't always keep you alive out here. The question is—what's his real plan?"
Clark looked toward the distant Frostfangs, their jagged peaks wreathed in pale mist. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."
---
The Frostfang Camp
By the time they reached the valley where Mance Rayder had made his camp, the sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the snow-covered ground. Smoke rose from dozens of fires, and the air was filled with the mingled sounds of voices, the clatter of tools, and the occasional laughter of children.
Clark marveled at the sight. Families, warriors, hunters, and even giants mingled among the rough tents and lean-tos. It was a chaotic, patchwork community, yet there was an undeniable strength in their numbers.
"We're here," Tormund said, gesturing to the sprawling camp. "Welcome to the largest gathering of stubborn fools north of the Wall."
As they approached, several Wildlings glanced at their group with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. It was clear that even here, trust was hard-earned.
---
Exploring the Camp
While Tormund, Skor, and Magnar Styr went to speak with Mance, Clark chose to walk among the people, observing their lives and listening to their stories. He saw women repairing furs, men sharpening crude weapons, and children playing in the snow. Despite the harsh conditions, there was a resilience in their faces—a determination to survive no matter what.
He paused near a group of warriors from a distant clan, their faces hardened by years of survival in the wilds. One of them, a tall man with a scar across his cheek, caught his eye. He grunted in acknowledgment but didn't say a word. Clark nodded back, acknowledging their silent understanding of the struggle for survival out here.
As he walked through the camp, he noticed the distinct differences between the clans. The Ice River Clan, with their rough, stoic faces, moved as a tight-knit unit. The people of the Free Folk seemed to carry a sense of independence, while the Thenns, though absent from the immediate camp, were known for their disciplined, martial nature.
Clark had heard much about these various clans—their cultures, their differences, their history of distrust. But here, in the harsh environment of the Frostfangs, these divisions were less important. Survival was the true unifying force.
He spent time listening to the stories of the Free Folk, learning of their hardships and their fierce loyalty to one another. The people were wary, but he sensed a growing respect for him, though it was tempered with skepticism.
---
The Evening Fires
As night began to fall, Clark found himself by one of the smaller fires where a group of women were speaking quietly. They appeared to be from the same clan as Tormund—he could recognize their distinctive garb. Their faces were weathered by years of enduring the unforgiving cold, but there was a sense of pride in their expressions.
He approached cautiously, not wanting to intrude but curious about their lives. One woman, with sharp eyes and a wary smile, glanced at him. He gave a respectful nod, acknowledging the tension that often came with unfamiliar faces in this camp.
A child playing nearby tugged at Clark's sleeve, and he leaned down to smile at the young girl. The child, shy at first, looked at him with wide eyes. She spoke softly in the wild tongue, a language Clark was still learning to understand. Despite the language barrier, there was a shared understanding in her eyes.
---
Tormund's Return
Later, after spending time observing the camp and learning as much as he could about the Free Folk's culture, Clark met up with Tormund, Skor, and Magnar by the main fire. They had returned from their meeting with Mance Rayder.
"Well?" Clark asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Tormund's gruff voice answered first. "Mance is willing to work with us—for now. But don't think he trusts us. He's a cautious one."
Skor, the leader of the Ice River Clan, grunted. "He has every right to be cautious. The Free Folk are many things, but they don't easily trust outsiders."
Magnar Styr, the leader of the Thenns, said little, his eyes scanning the camp. He did not look pleased, but he did not voice any objections. The Thenns were not yet ready to fully ally with Mance, but they would follow Tormund for now.
"Trust takes time," Clark replied, glancing around the camp. "But we've got work to do."
Tormund nodded. "Aye. Tomorrow, we'll help bring in some of the stragglers before the snows get worse. We need everyone we can get if we're going to survive this."
Clark's resolve was firm. "Then that's what we'll do."
As the fire crackled and the camp settled into a tense quiet, Clark knew that the coming days would be crucial. With the storm closing in, the Free Folk would either come together or fall apart. He couldn't afford to fail—not when so many lives were at stake.
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