The snowy night was strangely bright. The sky above gleamed like a mirror reflecting the moonlight—soft yet piercing.
The wind from the Shivering Sea carried the sharp scent of fish and salt, brushing against Davos Seaworth's weathered face.
"He's a fine commander, wouldn't you say?" Ser Maynard finally broke the silence after they had stood side by side at the bow for a long time.
"Yes," Davos replied.
Though not the most rational one.
"I heard the wildlings call him King-Beyond-the-Wall," Maynard said, "I wonder how our brothers will take that."
Davos paused, thrown off by the implication in Maynard's words.
"Do you believe Jon can return to Eastwatch, Ser?" Davos asked, his tone rhetorical to cover his own doubts.
"You believe it too, my lord," Maynard answered simply.
The Onion Knight—Hand of King Stannis, Admiral of the Narrow Sea Fleet, and Count of the Rainwood—outranked Maynard by far.
I don't, Davos thought.
"Of course. Jon always manages to work miracles, doesn't he?" he said instead.
Maynard turned his gaze forward, returning to his original point.
"In history, no one's ever been both Lord Commander of the Night's Watch and King-Beyond-the-Wall at the same time. Rodrik Flint once tried. He sought to use the Watch's strength to his ends, and nearly destroyed the entire order. The brothers killed him and elected a new Lord Commander. We've fought the wildlings for thousands of years, hated each other for as long. The brothers will have doubts."
You've already gone too far, Davos thought.
But he said, "The Night's Watch was founded to fight the White Walkers, not the wildlings. I believe... some still remember that."
"Let's hope so," said Maynard.
Just then, a sharp call rang out from the lookout at the mast.
Maynard and Davos rushed from the bow to the stern.
The night was a wall of darkness; the ocean swelled black and endless.
They saw nothing at first.
"It's the White Walkers," Davos said grimly.
Maynard was about to ask when he, too, saw it.
Out of the gloom, a massive shadow emerged, silent and vast—far larger than the Mermaid's Daughter.
It glided forward without a sound, as if floating above the sea.
Cold, unnatural, otherworldly.
There was no mistaking it—only the White Walkers could command such a thing.
Maynard had known White Walkers could traverse the sea, but he never imagined... they had ships.
"Full speed! Full speed ahead!" Maynard roared, his voice tearing through the night.
"Wake every sailor! If anyone dares to slack off, toss them into the sea to sleep forever!"
The Mermaid's Daughter sprang to life.
The deck shook with sudden, desperate activity.
Sailors bellowed commands; the beat of oars striking water rose heavy and strong from below.
Wildlings stumbled across the deck, trying to see what was happening.
Night's Watch brothers barked at them to stay put.
Buckets clattered to the floor, cries rang out as people fell, boots pounded the deck like frantic drums.
Strictly speaking, the Mermaid's Daughter was Davos' ship—but he made no move to counter Maynard's orders.
He understood the desperation.
Yet the fact that they had left Hardhome so long ago, and the White Walkers could still catch up, only meant their ship was far faster.
Even sailing empty, Davos doubted the Mermaid's Daughter could outrun them—let alone now, burdened to the limit.
He felt no optimism.
Watching the White Walker ship close in, his heart sank lower than ever before.
Not even when the Stone Men tried to roast him alive had he felt such despair.
A captain is born of the sea—and one day, returns to it.
"Should we throw the food and cargo overboard?" Maynard muttered, half to himself, half to Davos.
The looming inevitability weighed down on him, like a sword poised to fall.
"It's no use," Davos said.
"Even if we toss ourselves overboard, we still won't be faster than them."
"No way out, then?"
Maynard faced reality squarely.
Davos hesitated, glancing quickly at the deck.
"No... there might be one way. Though I can't guarantee it'll work."
"What is it?"
"I don't know much about the White Walkers. But if they're not smart enough... maybe if we drop a small boat, they'll chase after it."
"Fishing for White Walkers?" Maynard's eyes lit up.
If they had witnessed the battle at Hardhome firsthand, they would know—White Walkers possessed intelligence not inferior to humans.
They had seduced Mother Mole, gathered wildlings at Hardhome for slaughter, diverted Xulo's forces, ambushed the Watch's ships...
They even constructed a massive ship.
Clearly, they were no mindless beasts.
"A fool's hope," Davos said.
"But it's a hope."
"Better to die fighting than sit here waiting for death."
Maynard strode back toward the main deck, where the largest group of wildlings and Night's Watch brothers huddled.
As their commander, he had the right to give orders—but could he really order men to die?
They are not just crew, he thought.
They are my brothers. My family.
Dozens of anxious, searching eyes fixed on him.
Maynard cleared his throat and said:
"Brothers, I bring grim news. The White Walkers are closing in."
Boos and curses echoed across the deck.
"Our ship... isn't fast enough. In about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they'll catch us."
"Is it because we're carrying too much? Should we toss cargo overboard?" a Night's Watch brother asked, raising his hand.
"No," Maynard said.
He caught the wildlings' fearful glances.
"Even if we threw everything overboard—even ourselves—we still wouldn't outrun them. We have no dragonglass. No mighty warriors left. They stayed behind to hold the coast... so we could flee.
Now, brothers, it's just us.
We either fight for our lives... or sit here and wait to die."
If the White Walkers caught up, Maynard planned to scuttle the Mermaid's Daughter to prevent them from turning the crew into wights.
"What do we do?"
"I'll never fall into the White Walkers' hands!"
The deck roared with defiance.
Maynard waited for the noise to die down before speaking again:
"Here's the plan.
Soon, we'll lower a small boat.
We'll set it adrift in the opposite direction.
If the gods favor us, the White Walkers will chase the boat—and we might live."
Silence.
Small boats relied purely on oars—and could only fit three or four people.
On the Shivering Sea, such a vessel was little more than a leaf on a storm.
One good wave could capsize it.
Normally, they used those boats for landing at small ports—or escaping from a sinking ship.
Anyone who boarded the small boat now... was almost certainly signing their death warrant.
"I wish I could board that boat with you," Maynard said quietly, "but as captain, my duty is here.
I must stay with the ship.
I have no right to order you to die—but—"
"I'll go," said a wildling woman, rising to her feet.
She carried a long spear and had the solid build of a warrior.
Her gaze was unwavering.
"The Spearwife?" Maynard frowned, complex emotions flashing across his face.
"Any others? We need four."
Four was the ideal number—not too heavy, enough manpower to make the boat swift.
"Preferably someone who can row..."
He didn't expect the wildlings to know, though many raided Crown Town by skirting Sea Wolf Bay.
"I'll go, my lord," said a Night's Watch brother, standing up timidly.
A ripple of boos rose behind him.
"And me!" shouted another wildling woman, with pale golden hair, far too fair to look like a typical wildling.
"I'll go too!" a rough Night's Watch voice bellowed.
A burly man shoved his way forward.
Four volunteers stood before Maynard—faces a mix of calm, pride, fear, and confusion.
Maynard hadn't expected it to go so smoothly.
Maybe... one brave soul had stirred others to follow.
"Brave warriors," Maynard said solemnly, "tell me your names.
We have little to offer you—except remembrance."
"Edith," said the spearwife.
"I'm proud of you, Edith," Maynard said, meeting her gaze.
"Carter," the Night's Watch brother mumbled.
"Carter the Maiden, my lord."
"Wade, from the Sisters," said the burly one.
"I'm Dana," said the beautiful wildling woman.
"I have a request, my lord."
"Speak," Maynard said, bowing his head with rare formality.
"My sister, Katina, stayed behind at Hardhome.
If she makes it to Eastwatch—if she survives—please, give this to her.
Tell her I love her!"
Dana took off her necklace—woven from wild grasses, set with a bright blue stone.
Maynard pressed the necklace to his chest.
"On my honor, my lady, I swear—I will deliver it.
And if I fall, my brothers will carry out your wish."
"Thank you, my lord," Dana smiled—a breathtaking smile.
"I'm no lady.
I'm just a wildling."
The small boat was lowered, gently parting the waves.
The four aboard waved up at them, smiling bravely.
The White Walker ship was now close enough to see the grotesque details—its prow carved into the snarling head of a giant ice wolf, flanked by long, curved mammoth tusks.
"Sail!" Maynard roared.
Davos moved to his side and said,
"Ser, for safety's sake, I suggest we alter course toward Skagos Island."
Maynard understood instantly.
The waters around Skagos were notoriously treacherous.
Even seasoned sailors struggled there—how would the White Walkers fare?
After sailing so long, they were already near the island's northern tip—where the currents grew wildest.
The plan was risky.
But it might just work.