fourth wildling ➳ ( voice )

[freewoman]

[There's an exhale, a sound of fire crackling in the background. Ygritte has her furs on tonight, cold and alone. It's got her thinking.]

All this talk of war and all this new technology this place has, metal buildings, them weapons to wipe out the land and the trees, none's ever talked about death here. Like it's some cloaked figure. Death is a companion o' war. If you've ever killed someone, you'd know it.

[A pause.] I'm not afraid o' dyin'. My people have the blood o' the First Men in us. The children o' the forest used t'believe when you died you became a part o' the weirwood, but there's no weirwood trees about here. No heart trees neither. Suppose they believe different in the south, their Seven. There's no weirwood there neither.

I wonder what's t'become o' me now. Or any o' us. We burn our dead. Wouldn't want to come back anyhow, unnatural as it is. Though none o' you know the Others.

[She pauses again, mulling something over. People are always telling her how she must be glad she isn't home. No, it hurts still. It will always hurt.]

I'd like t'go north. How long does it take to get there? I've never been to the other part o' the city nor what lies beyond it.