Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

Clark

The wind howled across the snow-covered hills of Craster's Keep, its icy fingers sweeping through the gaps in the walls, making the air feel colder than it already was. Clark stood outside the main hall, his hands resting at his sides, his mind far from the chilly landscape around him. He could hear the murmurs of the wildlings inside the keep as they tried to organize themselves, to take stock of the resources left behind by Craster's twisted reign.

It was strange, Clark thought, to be standing here after everything that had happened. Just a few days ago, Craster had been a tyrant, using his cruelty to control the wildlings who lived in his keep. Now, with the man gone, the wildlings were left with a bitter truth: they had no one to lead them. Tormund had been the obvious choice, but leadership was never that simple, not when old loyalties ran deep, not when the history of war and distrust weighed so heavily on the people's shoulders.

Clark had done what he could to help Tormund, to guide the wildlings toward unity, but he knew that was just the beginning. The real work—the kind that would shape the future of this fractured people—was only just starting.

But for now, there was something else Clark needed to focus on.

The wildlings had given him a task—one he had agreed to without hesitation: to meet with the other tribes and leaders, to help forge alliances and break the old rivalries. It wasn't going to be easy, and it wasn't going to be quick, but it had to be done. The wildlings needed to unite if they were to have any hope of surviving what was coming.

And Clark knew what was coming.

The whispers he had heard from the women at Craster's Keep had echoed in his mind: the White Walkers. They were coming.

The cold dread that had settled in his gut was a familiar one, a feeling he had known all too well in his own world—when darkness loomed and there was no clear path forward. But this time, he wasn't alone. He had the wildlings, and they had the strength to fight, to survive, to make a stand.

It wasn't going to be easy, but Clark knew he would do whatever it took to help them face the coming storm.

---

Tormund

Inside the keep, Tormund paced back and forth, his expression grim as he spoke with his closest allies. The wildlings who had fought beside him were gathered around, their faces set with determination, but there was an edge to their gaze, a weariness that had come with the constant struggles they had faced.

"We can't wait much longer," Tormund said, his voice low but firm. "The longer we sit here, the stronger Craster's influence will remain. There are still some among us who hold on to his old ways. We need to act, and we need to act fast."

A hulking wildling with a thick beard spoke up, his voice rough. "But where do we go, Tormund? Who do we turn to? The tribes will never trust us. Not after everything that's happened."

Tormund clenched his jaw. He had heard these doubts before. The fractures among the wildlings ran deeper than many were willing to admit. Even now, with Craster's tyranny at an end, there were those who refused to see Tormund as their leader. There were old grudges to overcome, old rivalries that ran deep.

Clark had been right—unity wouldn't come easily. But it was the only way forward.

"We'll go to the northern tribes," Tormund said, his voice hard with resolve. "We'll speak to them. We'll show them that we're stronger together. If we don't, the White Walkers will destroy us all."

There was a murmur of agreement around the room, though some of the wildlings still seemed hesitant.

"You think they'll listen?" one of them asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Tormund admitted. "But we have to try. We've got no other choice."

---

Ygritte

Ygritte watched the men and women around her, their faces set in expressions of doubt and uncertainty. Tormund's words had struck a chord with many of them, but she could see that some still had reservations. Some still weren't sure if they should trust him—if they should trust anyone at all.

She stood at the edge of the gathering, her arms crossed over her chest as she observed the room. It was easy to see that the wildlings were tired. They had been through so much already—cruelty, war, betrayal—and they had survived, but that didn't mean they were strong enough to face what was coming next.

The White Walkers were a threat unlike any the wildlings had ever faced. This was a different kind of battle, one that would require all of them to stand together. It wasn't just a matter of fighting—it was about survival. It was about living through the winter and beyond, carving out a future from the ice and snow.

Ygritte had always believed in the strength of the wildlings, in their ability to survive against all odds. But she also knew that survival meant sacrifice. It meant putting aside personal grudges, putting aside old rivalries, and coming together for the good of the whole.

She stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmurs of doubt.

"Look around you," she said, her eyes sweeping the room. "Do you think we can survive this alone? The White Walkers are coming, and if we don't unite, we'll be dead before the first snow falls. Tormund's right. We have to go to the northern tribes. We have to make them see that we're stronger together."

Some of the wildlings nodded, though others still hesitated. Ygritte could see the struggle in their eyes, the fear that they had carried for so long. Fear of failure, fear of betrayal. But she also saw something else—determination.

"We will fight," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "We will fight for each other. We will fight for our children, for our future. If we do this, we have a chance."

Tormund nodded, his gaze steady. "We do this together, or we die alone."

---

Clark

Clark stood outside the keep, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The wildlings were preparing for the journey, gathering what little supplies they had left. There was no more time to waste. He could feel the tension building in the air, the anticipation of what was to come. But as the wildlings began to move, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking toward something even greater than the threat of the White Walkers.

There were other dangers out there—others who would seek to take advantage of the chaos, to exploit the wildlings' fear and weakness. He couldn't be sure who or what might come after them, but he was prepared to face whatever came their way.

"Are they ready?" Tormund's voice broke through his thoughts as the wildling leader approached.

Clark turned, his expression serious. "They're as ready as they're going to be. We need to move quickly. The longer we wait, the more vulnerable we become."

Tormund nodded. "Then let's get moving. The northern tribes won't wait forever."

Clark glanced over at Ygritte, who was standing nearby, her gaze fixed on the horizon as well. She nodded at him, a silent understanding passing between them. They were in this together, and they would face whatever came their way.

The journey ahead would be long and fraught with danger, but Clark knew they had no other choice. The White Walkers weren't the only threat to their survival. There were many forces at play here, and they needed to act fast if they were going to have any hope of uniting the wildlings and surviving the coming storm.

As the first group of wildlings began to move out, Clark took one last look at the keep. It was a place of great suffering and loss, but also of resilience. The wildlings had survived Craster, and they would survive whatever came next.

And Clark would be with them every step of the way.