The sea breeze stirred the little boat, making it sway.
"Are you cold?" asked 'Maiden' Carter, shivering.
Dana turned her head. Carter had a youthful, delicate face—almost beautiful.
Dana instantly understood why everyone called him "Maiden" Carter. They were mocking his pretty looks and almost feminine fragility.
But fragility wasn't weakness. Sometimes, those who looked soft were tougher than the roughest brutes.
"Rowing isn't hard," said Wade. "You just need to balance your strength and the rhythm. With a boat this size, it's easy to control."
Born and raised on the Sisters, Wade had been sailing boats like this alone since he was eight, fishing shrimp and crab in shallow bays and hidden coves.
Spearwife Edith grabbed an oar and gave the water a half-hearted stir.
The boat spun in place. If not for Wade steadying it quickly, they would've capsized.
"Sorry."
Embarrassed, Edith tossed the oar back into the boat.
Rowing wasn't nearly as easy as Big Black had claimed.
"No worries. We still have time."
The Others were just a hair's breadth away.
If anyone cared to look, they could see the Others standing at the prow of their ship, their bodies glowing faintly blue in the darkness.
"Do you really believe they'll make it back to Eastwatch alive?" Edith asked Dana quietly. "…With so many Others after them."
"I pray they do."
Dana instinctively reached for her chest, then remembered—she had given her necklace to Ser Maynard.
"Alright, move it, ladies!" Wade's rough voice carried across the water. "Don't let the Others catch us so easily! Give the folks on board a little more time!"
The Mermaid Maiden drifted farther away—but so did the Others, getting closer to them.
The little boat began to move.
After a few moments of flailing panic, under Wade's steady command, even Edith managed to find a rhythm. Carter already knew how to row, and Dana, smart and quick as ever, caught on instantly.
The Others' ship anchored itself midway between the Mermaid Maiden and the little boat—closer to the little boat now, farther from the bigger ship.
But there were dozens of times more people on the Mermaid Maiden than on the tiny boat.
Moments later, the Others' ship stirred again, like a leaf caught by the wind, drifting toward the little boat.
"They're coming after us! Bloody bastards!" Wade swore loudly.
Neither of the wildling women even blinked—rough language was their daily bread.
"Thank the gods," Dana said softly.
Everyone on the little boat rowed harder.
Somehow, they were moving faster than the Mermaid Maiden.
It spoke volumes about how overloaded the bigger ship was.
Still, the Others were steadily gaining.
They had spent a long time motionless, clearly deciding whether to chase the Mermaid Maiden or the little boat.
Now they moved leisurely—no hurry, no desperation.
They knew they had all the time in the world.
Within less than a quarter of an hour, Dana's arms and back were aching.
Not all wildlings were as "wild" as the Southerners thought.
Dana had her younger sister Katina to look after; she didn't need to work as hard.
After the strong Rugo stole her away—as wildling tradition dictated—he had treated her with care and affection.
Dana had joined in hunts and migrations, but never suffered as much as Edith had.
Gritting her teeth, Dana pushed on.
She had no time to look back.
She only heard Wade shouting again and again:
"We've pulled away a little!"
"Keep going! We're almost free of these bastards!"
Dana knew it wasn't true.
Still, somewhere deep inside, she clung to the faint hope that maybe—just maybe—they had widened the gap.
Not to survive.
But to buy the Mermaid Maiden a little more time.
"They're so dumb," Carter muttered, clutching his sore arms. "Chasing after us like this."
"Row! Don't talk, girl!" Wade roared.
Carter jumped, nearly losing his grip on the oar.
He caught it just in time, gritting his teeth and rowing harder, grumbling silently—You're the one doing all the talking!
No.
They weren't dumb.
Dana said it in her heart.
The truth was far more chilling.
The Others chased the little boat because they knew—after sinking it, they could still catch up to the Mermaid Maiden.
They didn't intend to leave a single living soul behind.
These hideous, terrifying creatures weren't stupid—they were greedy.
BOOM.
The little boat shuddered violently.
Everyone tumbled backward.
They caught up, Edith realized with a start.
She'd thought they were still far away.
The boat bobbed erratically, putting a little distance between them and the Others' ship again.
Edith looked back—right into the face of an Other standing at the prow.
It looked almost human—body and head like a man's.
But it had no hair, and its face was a mass of deep, ancient wrinkles, like a withered old corpse.
It radiated a chilling blue glow.
Its icy gaze stabbed into Edith like a blade.
The Others had no intention of turning them into wights.
Once more, the Others' ship rammed into them.
All they could do was scream.
The boat capsized.
They plunged into the freezing dark.
Unless a miracle happened, they would sink to the bottom forever—into the palace of the Drowned God.
As the endless blackness closed around her, Edith heard Ser Maynard's voice echoing in her mind:
I'm proud of you, Edith.
Edith was a spearwife, meant to stay on the shores of Hardhome.
But Ser Lorent couldn't tell wildling women apart—and a spearwife who wished could easily sneak aboard.
That explained the strange look on Maynard's face when he saw her.
---
"They're not following," said Ser Maynard.
The dark sea lay still and silent.
On deck, everyone's taut nerves slowly eased.
Some, utterly exhausted, dozed off without realizing it.
Rowing slowed down too.
Humans were frail creatures—they couldn't stay in motion forever.
"For now," Davos Seaworth said grimly.
"The Others chasing the little boat proves," he continued, "they're confident they can catch us later."
"How could that be?" Maynard frowned. "At first, we were all heading straight for Eastwatch. That's how they caught up. But now we've veered toward Skagos. The Shivering Sea is vast. How would they even find us in this darkness?"
The Onion Knight abruptly turned, his eyes glinting sharply.
"What is it?" Maynard asked, uneasy.
"Ser, you just asked a very good question.
In a sea this vast, how could they track us so easily?
Going to Eastwatch alone doesn't explain it. There are at least four known routes. What—do the Others have expert sailors now, too?"
"You mean…?" Maynard trailed off.
"Quick! Have the Night's Watch search this ship—top to bottom!" Davos barked.
A cold dread swept through him.
"I suspect the Others planted a 'beacon' on board!"
---
The Mermaid Maiden awoke under the faint light of dawn.
Members of the Night's Watch scoured the ship, rough and relentless.
They ripped up deck boards, searched behind barrels, pulled aside tarps covering cargo.
They combed the cabins again and again.
The wildlings watched wide-eyed, baffled.
Even the black-cloaks themselves seemed confused—no one had told them what exactly they were looking for.
They acted as if—once they found it—they would know.
'Orphan' Oliver pulled back his foot, which had been stepped on during the chaos.
He watched the black-cloaks with puzzled eyes, trying to glean some hint of their purpose.
But it was useless—the Watch brothers themselves didn't know.
Oliver was grateful to them for rescuing him and letting him board, but still…
He found them crude.
They shoved wildlings around, shouted like the people were deaf.
Claimed to be men of honor—yet didn't even apologize after stepping on someone's foot.
So much for honor, Oliver thought.
Beside him, slumped against a wall, was an injured black-cloak.
The man was badly wounded, his chest wrapped in dark cloth.
Since boarding, he'd shrunk into this corner, hiding his face beneath his cloak.
At first, Oliver hadn't paid much attention.
But now he realized—there was a coldness radiating from the man.
Is he dead?!
A shiver ran through Oliver.
He didn't want to get in trouble, but curiosity got the better of him.
He reached out and gave the man a nudge.
"Hey, you okay?"
The touch sent an icy jolt through his fingertips.
Dead.
Carefully, Oliver lifted the black cloak, revealing the man's face.
It was deathly pale—drained of all blood.
"Hey, you alright?" Oliver asked, forcing himself to speak to the corpse.
He leaned closer to check for breath—none.
Suddenly, the "dead" man's eyes snapped open—
brilliant, ghostly blue.