The Prince of Thorns

🌹The Undead🌹

North of the wall
The brotherhood marches through the relentless snowstorm, led by a Wildling scout ahead. The wind howls around them. Tormund squints into the distance and nudges Jon Snow.

Tormund: Look.

A shadowy shape moves through the snow.

Sandor: A bear.

Tormund: Big fucker.

Gendry: Do bears have blue eyes?

The bear lets out a low, guttural growl. Its unnatural blue eyes gleam through the storm as it charges. The scout turns to run back, but the bear is faster. It crashes into him, slamming him into the snow. The man barely has time to scream before the bear's massive jaws clamp down, silencing him.

Jon and the others rush forward, swords drawn, but find only a bloody patch of snow where the scout fell.

The bear grunts nearby. The men tense, gripping their weapons, forming a tight circle.

The bear bursts from the snow, roaring, the scout's mangled body still in its jaws. Blood drips from its teeth.

Alester (firmly, drawing Thorn): Hold your ground.

Tormund strikes first, but the bear swipes him aside with a powerful blow. Sandor moves to check on him as Beric and Thoros ignite their swords and advance.

The bear lunges at another watchman, biting down and flinging him through the air like a ragdoll. Beric steps in, slashing through its hide. Flames erupt across its fur, but it keeps fighting.

The bear locks eyes on Sandor. He hesitates.

Alester (shouting): Hound, move!

The bear lunges. Thoros steps in, jamming his flaming sword into its mouth as they fall to the ground. They struggle, the fire lighting up the swirling snow.

Tormund attacks wildly, hacking at its side. The bear kicks him away and turns back to Thoros, wrestling the sword from his grip. It bites deep into his chest, lifting him off the ground and shaking him like prey.

Alester (charging forward): Enough!

Alester swings Thorn, its dark steel slicing deep into the bear's flank. The beast roars in pain, but Alester doesn't stop. He pivots, driving Thorn into its ribs, forcing it back.

Jorah rushes in, plunging a dagger into the bear's neck. The beast stumbles, growling, before collapsing into the snow. Its flaming body sizzles against the ice.

Alester steps back, gripping Thorn tightly, blood and fire reflecting in his eyes.

Beric and Gendry drag Thoros away. Jorah and Sandor look down at him.

Sandor: We have to get him back to Eastwatch.

Thoros (weakly, shaking his head): Flask.

Beric kneels, pressing a flask to Thoros's lips. Thoros gulps it down desperately.

Thoros: Go on.

Beric presses his flaming sword to Thoros's wounds, cauterizing them. Thoros groans in pain but doesn't flinch.

Beric: You alright?

Thoros (smirking faintly): Just got bit by a dead bear.

Beric: Aye. You did.

Thoros: Funny old life. Alright then.

Beric helps Thoros to his feet, then extinguishes his sword in the snow.

Jon and Tormund stand over the dead scout, following the bear's tracks with their eyes.

Alester (steady, glancing at Jon): We keep moving.