The Mander flows gently for most of its course, but beyond Tumbleton, as one travels upstream, the river becos narrower and faster, punctuated by nurous waterfalls, making navigation by boat impossible. This transformation is due to the steeply rising mountains near Tumbleton, as if an underground giant were pushing the earth upward with his back.
The tallest peak in this region is known as Snowstag Peak, nad for the snow on its summit, which resembles a giant stag in motion. The surrounding, similarly snow-capped peaks are collectively called the Herd Peaks, as their formations evoke the image of stags gathered around their leader.
Snowlt from these peaks forms streams that flow into small depressions at the foot of the mountains, eventually creating lakes of varying sizes. Elevated far above Tumbleton, these lakes have an ethereal quality, earning the mountain range the na Sky Lake Mountains, a term coined by so Maesters.
Buttock Ridge lies next to one of the largest of these lakes, a critical water source for the Mander River. The area around the lake has long been inhabited, sotis by mountain folk, sotis by wildling tribes.
The wildling tribe Lynd intended to visit, the Gravel Tribe, derived its na from its founder, who was born in a pile of gravel. They crossed the Blackwater Rush a decade ago and settled here. Their arrival displaced a mountain folk village after repeated conflicts, forcing the original inhabitants to relocate elsewhere.
Over the past decade, the Gravel Tribe’s population has grown from around a thousand to nearly three thousand, with most of the increase due to newborns. If given sufficient ti, this growth could significantly increase their number of fighters, posing a threat to Tumbleton.
“See that moss-covered hillside? That’s where the Gravel Tribe’s stone houses are,” Wenda the White Fawn said, standing on a rock and pointing to the distant slope.
Though Wenda had identified the location, Nyria and the others struggled to discern any connection between the mossy hillside and the supposed stone houses.
“Those hillsides are indeed stone houses, but they’re well camouflaged. You can’t see them from here. Look at their reflection in the lake,” Lynd explained. His familiarity with the area, perhaps even surpassing that of the Gravel Tribe, allowed him to pinpoint the key to uncovering the hidden houses.
At Lynd’s suggestion, the group turned to the blue lake ford by snowlt. Its surface mirrored the mountainside, and in the reflection, they could see the disguised roofs of the stone houses.
Lynd turned to Wenda and asked, “You’re from the Gravel Tribe?”
Earlier that morning, when Lynd announced his plans to visit Buttock Ridge, Wenda, who had been resting in Tumbleton, had rushed over. She claid familiarity with the area and offered to guide the group.
Although Lynd had already gathered detailed information about the Gravel Tribe’s surroundings and inner workings through Glory, he accepted Wenda’s offer. However, he remained curious about her motives.
From his past interactions with Wenda, Lynd knew she wasn’t one to act without prompting. This was the first ti she had volunteered for sothing, and Lynd couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted this sudden initiative.
Wenda the White Fawn proved to be as familiar with the Buttock Ridge area as she claid. The route she chose was not only smoother than the one Lynd had initially planned but also well-suited for cavalry patrols, avoiding obstacles such as gravel, steep slopes, cliffs, or canyons. Thanks to her guidance, the group reached a hill near Buttock Ridge smoothly by noon.
When Wenda ntioned the Gravel Tribe's stone houses earlier, there had been a subtle but distinct emotion in her tone. This prompted Lynd to make a bold guess about her connection to the tribe.
Upon hearing his conjecture, Wenda remained calm, neither confirming nor denying it.
“Lynd, shall we head there now?” Nyria asked, glancing at Wenda without showing any particular reaction to her possible ties to the Gravel Tribe.
Lynd shook his head. “No, we’ll wait until Glory arrives.”
Nyria’s face lit up. “I haven’t seen Glory in a long ti. I wonder if it’s grown bigger.”
Lynd thought for a mont. “It hasn’t grown, still the sa size as before, but it’s much stronger now—not as fat as it used to be.”
Behind Nyria, the twenty mbers of her guard murmured among themselves. The new recruits—sellswords and knights-for-hire—were questioning Tumbleton’s guards about who or what Glory was.
Ever since eting Wenda the White Fawn, Lynd had kept Glory, an unusually large creature, outside for grazing. Although many had caught glimpses of the giant beast and spoken of it afterward, few knew its na. Even fewer believed the stories they’d heard, dismissing them as exaggerated tales akin to legends of White Walkers and the Children of the Forest.
The sellswords and hired knights were skeptical of the guards’ descriptions of Glory’s size. They assud the accounts were exaggerated and that Glory, a supposed Shadowcat, was likely just slightly larger than a real Shadowcat. Like many, they were prone to inflating the size of their own adversaries during boasts and assud the sa of others.
About half an hour later, a rustling noise ca from the nearby bushes. The group imdiately drew their weapons, turning their wary eyes toward the source of the disturbance.
"Don't be nervous; it's Glory," Lynd said, raising his hand to signal the group to stand down.
As his words fell, a massive black-and-white-striped creature erged from the bushes—Glory. The Shadowcat’s size had indeed changed since Lynd last saw it.
It's body was more robust, with muscles rippling beneath its fur as it moved. Contrary to Lynd’s earlier assessnt, it was slightly larger than before. Standing before Lynd, Glory was now a head taller than him and almost matched Nyria in height.
Despite their spiritual connection and Lynd’s frequent possession of it, it had been many days since he had seen Glory in person. As soon as it approached, it rested its head against his chest, nudging him insistently for attention.
Lynd obliged, rubbing its head as it wished. Glory’s eyes narrowed in satisfaction, its deanor calm and content.
Nyria approached as well, reaching out to stroke Glory’s fur. However, Glory dodged her hand, showing no aggression but clearly reluctant to allow the touch. Nyria frowned in irritation, muttering complaints under her breath.
Wenda the White Fawn fared worse. If she so much as edged closer, Glory growled low, its distrustful nature still unchanged.
The sight of Glory left a powerful impression. For the cavalry patrols who had seen it before, the awe was still enough to hold their breaths, wary of making any noise that might disturb the towering creature.
For the hired knights and sellswords, however, the experience was overwhelming. The sheer size and presence of Glory were terrifying. Many visibly faltered, so nearly dropping to the ground in fear. If not for the calm deanor of those around them, they might have drawn their swords in panic.
It was at this mont that the skeptics among them realized their comrades had not exaggerated Glory’s size or imposing presence. If anything, their descriptions had been understated.
After a few monts of play, Lynd let go of Glory’s head. He mounted his horse, taking care to calm the nervous animal, which trembled slightly in Glory’s proximity. Turning to the group, Lynd signaled for everyone to get ready and organize themselves.
“Let go first to avoid any unnecessary misunderstandings,” Wenda the White Fawn offered.
Lynd studied her for a mont and nodded.
With that, Wenda nudged her horse forward, heading toward the Gravel Tribe’s hill.
One of the hired knights asked doubtfully, "My lord, if we let her go first, won't the Gravel Tribe be able to prepare for us?"
Before Lynd could respond, Nyria interjected, "Do you know who she is?"
The hired knight shook his head, looking blank.
Nyria chuckled softly. "If you knew who she was, you wouldn't have asked that question."
The knight remained silent after that and retreated into the ranks.
After another ten minutes, once everyone had recovered from the awe of witnessing Glory’s magnificence, Lynd, noticing no signals from Wenda the White Fawn, who had entered the Gravel Tribe ahead of them, decided not to wait any longer. He led the cavalry patrols slowly toward the tribe.
At Lynd’s command, Glory took the lead at the front of the procession. Its fur turned an intense, pure black, transforming it into the Death’s Shadow, the fabled envoy of the Stranger that had beco the subject of widespread rumors throughout the region.
When Lynd and his group arrived at the Gravel Tribe’s entrance, the area was already crowded with warriors. A rough count suggested over three or four hundred n, all clad in garnts, shoes, and headgear fashioned from animal skins. They wielded rudintary stone axes and wooden spears, though a few carried iron weapons like swords.
At first, the tribal warriors didn’t notice Lynd; their attention was fixed on Glory leading the group. The mont they saw the transford creature, they let out startled cries, and several of them instinctively dropped their weapons. Many fell to their knees, bowing in reverence, as though regarding Glory as a divine being.
The reaction of the tribal warriors left the cavalry patrols, the guard, and others visibly surprised.
Although they themselves had been deeply awed upon seeing Glory’s transformation earlier, their response had not been so extre. The terror-stricken reverence of the tribal warriors was unmistakably excessive.
Lynd could fully understand the reaction of the Gravel Tribe's people. After all, a terrifying beast capable of appearing like a ghost seed, in every way, to embody the ancient legends of supernatural beings.
In the days when Glory road freely, Lynd had already begun laying plans against the Gravel Tribe. He often sent Glory into the tribe under cover of night, instructing it to appear suddenly and use its mysterious abilities to vanish in full view, only to reappear silently nearby. On occasion, Glory would even kill individuals who harbored ill will toward it, all without a sound.
Under these conditions, it didn’t take long for the Gravel Tribe to develop an intense reverence for Glory. Guided by the tribal shaman, many began to treat Glory as though it were one of their Old Gods.
The Gravel Tribe, unlike the followers of the Faith of the Seven, believed in the Old Gods, many of whom were tied to supernatural forces. In their eyes, Glory, with its spectral presence and abilities, had beco a living embodint of these beings. Lynd had anticipated this response, understanding how easily Glory could be seen as an Old God due to its otherworldly nature.
The influence of Glory soon spread throughout the Gravel Tribe and reached the ears of its shaman and chief. They led their followers to the tribe’s gates to witness the being in person. However, the shaman and the chief perceived Glory in starkly different ways.
The shaman, captivated by Glory’s presence, imdiately recognized it as one of the Old Gods they had been worshipping. Without hesitation, he led his apprentices and fellow believers to pour out of the tribe and prostrate themselves before Glory. Their lack of fear stemd from past encounters when Lynd had orchestrated Glory’s behavior to foster their reverence. During those monts of worship, Glory would cease its nacing stance and crouch down to accept their devotion like a true deity. On several occasions, Glory had even led the shamans to caches of food and valuables—resources that Lynd had discreetly planted beforehand.
The ability to guide people to sustenance and treasures, combined with its apparent intelligence, only solidified Glory’s identity as a divine being in their eyes. This orchestrated deception fueled the shamans’ and believers’ fanaticism, driving them to worship Glory without hesitation.
In contrast, Kav, the leader of the Gravel Tribe, did not share such faith.
While he was terrified and awed by Glory’s ability to appear and vanish at will, he remained skeptical. In his heart, he believed Glory to be nothing more than an unusually large and possibly deford Shadowcat.
Kav’s focus quickly shifted from Glory to the group trailing behind it. His eyes scanned Lynd’s party, and he realized they were the noble family’s army Wenda the White Fawn had warned about.
Among them, the towering Nyria, who looked almost like a Small Giant, initially caught his attention. Yet Kav couldn’t shake his gaze from Lynd. Sothing about him radiated a terrifying aura, one even more nacing than the beast worshipped as an Old God.
As Kav locked eyes with Lynd, it felt as though Lynd had noticed his stare. In that instant, an overwhelming sense of death washed over Kav, making him recall Wenda the White Fawn’s warnings.
Snapping out of his dread, Kav seized the collar of a subordinate nearby and commanded in a grave voice, "Hurry! Go to the prison and release Wenda the White Fawn."
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