The tale of a boy, and the man he becomes. Wildling child to something... Greater? Raider, Herder, Trader, King-Beyond-The-Wall, Invader, Reaper, Pirate, Explorer, Husband, Father. 100% more wicked and cruel than Game of Thrones.
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A Skin-Changer’s Tale.
The son of destiny. A tale of a boy and the man he becomes, in a world of ice and fire.
Chapter One: My name is sneak.
Sneak was my name. I lived up to it. There wasn’t nothing I couldn’t get away with. My hands were quick as lightning, and my tongue as smooth as ice. When I wanted something, I did what all Free-folk did.
I took it.
I crawled along the bank of the Milkwater. My legs were submerged in the icy river as I hugged the sheer rock cliff the river had carved over the eons. The water numbed my legs, but I was used to the cold. The cold wouldn't stop me today.
I was going to get it. Today was the day. I peeked around the edge of the cliff. There they were. The young sons of Tormund the Bear's Husband. They too were too young to have names. What they did have were fishing poles, with real iron fishing hooks.
Their father is a famous raider, known to all Free-folk, and gifted his sons with many things. four fish lay on the rocky shore next to them as I peeked over the side of a large river rock. They had so much food.
A smart man would steal the fish... It was enough food to live on for almost a fortnight.
My stomach rumbled with hunger. Momma didn't feed me often. She had herself and my twin sisters to feed from her breasts. Mother's milk and fish were what I lived on. I had once tasted deer, after sneaking into a hunter's camp. I was beaten so hard, I puked the deer out before the hunter let me go.
I was not a smart man though... I was sneaky.
That was my name.
That was my way of life.
Gauging where the current would take me was simple. I ducked into the frigid water, with my stone knife in hand. The frigid water was home to me. I was used to the cold. I lived and breathed the cold. It was the holding my breath that was the problem.
I let the current carry me until I saw the hook floating with a wriggling minnow as bait. I held the flint knife in the right position and let the weight of my body and the river slice the thin fishing line. The iron hook was clenched in my hand as the minnow squirmed in my palm.
My lungs were burning, but I carried on swimming underwater as fast as I could. The short minute felt like an eternity before I surfaced, gasping for air. I scrambled to the shore, my triumph over the raider's sons spreading warmth into my cold body.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
I quickly dove into the bushes as I heard Toregg begin to cry out as he realized he had lost his prize southern fish-hook. I slipped into my furs after I wiped away the water with dry dirt in the bushes. I chuckled to myself at my own cleverness.
As my stomach rumbled with hunger, I suddenly wished I had thought of a way to steal the fish too. I gripped the fishing hook. But this would get me food just as well.
Scrambling from the bushes, I headed to the nearby river clan, the Milk Sons', a mile further down-river. There was no stopping me now. Toregg had no idea that I had stolen his fish-hook, and there was nothing I owned that he could steal in return, even if he did know.
My mouth watered as I sprinted to the clan's summer longhouse on the Milkwater's shore. I practically skipped with happiness as I waved to the grizzled old man, Scarface I called him, who was one of their sentries on watch for the clansmen. They were always on guard for raiders coming to take their fish. Or worse... Direwolves. Shadowcats. Snowbears. Everything...
"Slow down, or the dogs il' bite ya" The old man slurred. Half his face was scarred in three angry long red lines. The scars and tales of the snowbear used to frighten me, but I wasn't scared of a snow bear anymore. Or scarred old men. I was sneaky. I'd find a way to sneak right passed it.
"Make me you old drunk." I cried out, slipping from his reach with a scramble of my thin legs. I took his advice anyway. The Milk Sons had massive hounds that loved to chased down anything willing to run away. I'd heard they'd brought down a direwolf just last year.
"Donny!" I called out for the chief's son as I neared the longhouse. "I've got it!" I cried out "I've got it!" I was so excited. The fish I'd eat soon.
The teenager's face peeked out of the fur flap that kept the heat in the longhouse from escaping. He was short for his age, but strong from many years of pulling in nets, and using the paddles on a canoe. His face was dirty with soot, and had blond fuzz curling around his chin and cheeks. He stepped out of the longhouse with a grin, and his two younger brothers followed.
"Lets see it then." Donny grinned as he walked over. "Did you have any trouble getting it?" He asked.
I shook my head, grinning and held up the prize between my thumb and forefinger. The thin iron hook glinted in the summer sun. Donny's face was one of awe. "I never thought I'd see the like." He whispered. "Its so shiny." He held out his hand. I dropped it into his palm.
"And my reward?" I prompted with a grin.
"I have to show father what I got." He mumbled to himself as he stared at the iron in wonder. "They use iron for fish hooks down south. I never imagined it was real."
Denny tugged on my sleeve. "Its that one." He pointed to the shore where a row of canoes rested on the riverbank. "We finished it yesterday. The smoked fish is in it already. I put it there like you said, so Donny can't double-cross you." Denny whispered. "You need to go before he changes his mind, or father finds out."
Good old Denny. Honest to a fault.
Gullible to a fault too.
"I'll have one for you tomorrow, to pay for the canoe. I could only get the first one today." I whispered to him as we walked away from Donny and his youngest brother Danny as they marveled at the iron hook. "I promise, I'll be back tomorrow with another to pay you for the canoe." I smiled a friendly grin at Denny.
He smiled back.
I could see old Scarface glaring from upriver as he watched me slip into a small hide hulled canoe. I had drug it into the water as Denny grinned like a big goofy smile, imagining all the adoration he would receive as the owner of an iron fish-hook.
Denny gave me a good shove away from the shore, and waved as I started paddling back upriver. It was a long trip, and I ate a good quarter of the smoked fish Donny had promised as a reward for the iron fish-hook before night fell. I was half way home to Momma's hut in my village. By noon, I'd be back home, feeding my family, as a man ought to.
I was 6. Soon to be a man. Life was short for us northerners. I'd heard raiders tell that southern kneelers are still considered boys until they have hair on their chins. Us northerners become men as soon as we can provide for ourselves. I was sure to prove it with this feat of sneakiness.
Momma would give me a man's name for sure when I got back. Then I may take Momma as my spear's wife and feed her and the twins. No other man in the village seemed willing. no man rutted with her, and few were willing to even give her scraps to eat. She hunted snow-hares and rats to keep her milk flowing. She ate tubers sometimes, when there were no rats in the village, but they caused the runny shits. Tubers were more for animals than for humans.
Pulling the canoe into the bushes, I hid and waited for the sun to rise before leaving the bushes I drug the canoe out of the bushes next to my bush and started towards the water.
I noticed a shadow on the riverbank as I paddled. The shadow was moving with me. At the same pace. Following me. I kept paddling, but started paying more attention to the shadow. I felt a sense of dread as the shadow moved along the shore. I knew it was watching me.
I caught glimpses of it as I paddled upriver. It had black fur. I noticed at first. Or it was a man wearing black fur.
A Crow?
Why would a crow follow me? I wasn't a raider... yet.