Just as Mufasa was about to leave, someone shouted.
"Come and eat some roast suckling pig!"
Mufasa paused in his tracks, his stomach beginning to growl.
At that moment, Val took his arm and led him to a campfire where seven or eight wildlings were gathered.
They looked at Mufasa scrutinizingly.
"What are you looking at me for?" Mufasa asked.
"You killed Jarl, didn't you?" a large bald man asked.
"If you want to avenge him, then come at me. This is wildling territory, anyway," Mufasa said.
"No, your status has changed now," the bald man replied.
"Don't tell me I'm not human anymore?" Mufasa said.
"You are one of the Free Folk now! You have joined our ranks," the bald man said.
"When did I ever say I'd join the Free Folk?" Mufasa asked.
"Val stole Jarl, and you killed Jarl. That means you have rightfully stolen Val. Unless she slits your throat in the night, you are one of us," the bald man said.
"What a complicated chain of cause and effect! I actually don't understand!" Mufasa said.
"In other words, Val is yours now. Unless you die, she belongs to no one else—provided you aren't killed by others or have your throat slit by Val in the night," the bald man continued.
"Slitting throats, slitting throats... if you're so fond of slitting throats, why don't you go kill some chickens instead!" Mufasa said.
He picked up a pig leg and began to eat. The way he wolfed it down actually made him look a bit like a wildling.
The Wall, Castle Black.
Eddard Stark saw Mufasa's death in the flames.
He looked at Melisandre, who was equally shocked.
"It's impossible! How could Mufasa die? It's impossible! The prophecy must be wrong."
"This news cannot be known by others. Lord Eddard, we must keep this a secret. Can you keep your word? No one else must know about this," Melisandre said.
Eddard Stark snapped out of his shock. He also knew that now was not the time to make Mufasa's death public.
Because this news would cause an explosion of chaos at both The Wall and King's Landing.
Based on what he knew of Mufasa and Joffrey from his time in King's Landing.
Their relationship was very good, even surpassing that between Joffrey and Tommen.
"I will keep the secret," Eddard Stark said.
They didn't know that Mufasa hadn't died; he had simply been resurrected once.
In an unnamed valley Beyond the Wall, at night, a biting cold wind blew through the tents, bringing a bone-chilling chill into the wildling camp.
On a distant ridge, a contingent of the Army of the Dead appeared, slowly walking down. They were the walking dead, moving at a steady, unhurried pace.
Val held a dagger in her hand and quietly moved to stab toward where Mufasa was sleeping.
By the time she realized the sensation was wrong, Mufasa had already appeared behind her. Dark Sister, still in its scabbard, rested against her neck.
"Slitting throats really is you wildlings' specialty, isn't it? But doing this might result in many wildlings dying, and your numbers will suffer. Why not stop this backward custom?" Mufasa asked.
"This is our freedom. We are the Free Folk," Val said without looking back.
"You are descendants of the first men?" Mufasa asked.
"Yes. Why?" Val asked, puzzled.
"The first men seemed more advanced than you. It's as if you wildlings have regressed. Why is that?" Mufasa had never understood why the wildlings were so primitive.
After all, the Vale wildlings were backward because of scarce resources and limited territory; it was understandable.
But the wildlings Beyond the Wall were still so primitive despite having more people and vast lands.
Aside from the natural disadvantage of the cold, all other factors were man-made.
"The Wall blocks our expansion to the south, and moving further north is even more impossible. So, we can only decline generation after generation. I don't want it to be this way either! Why don't you be kind and take me to the south?"
Val suddenly wrapped herself around Mufasa's waist like a water snake, her grey eyes staring intently at him.
Just then, roars echoed from outside.
"It's bad! The Army of the Dead is here! Retreat, quickly!"
Both Mufasa and Val's expressions changed.
The two of them hurried out of the tent and looked out. Sure enough, the Army of the Dead was charging in the distance. They had been walking, but now they were running; each wight was sprinting as if in a hundred-meter dash, some tripping and being trampled by those behind them.
Then, Mance Rayder shouted loudly.
"Retreat! Leave everything else behind! Retreat quickly!"
They retreated further north, eventually reaching the Frostfang.
Mufasa had been here before. He had found the horn of winter in the tomb of a giant ancestor. He had left it at Castle Black.
To blow the horn of winter, a giant had to be the one to do it.
However, Mufasa hadn't seen any other giants in the wildling camp.
"Val, where is the giant tribe?" Mufasa asked.
"The giant tribes... they usually don't live with us. After all, they're huge. During their mating season, they come to other tribes to snatch women. Many women have been torn in half by them," she said with lingering fear.
"But I've heard there are some half-giants. Are they the offspring of a giant parent?" Mufasa said.
"That's right. It's always the mother who's a giant and the father who's an ordinary man," she said.
"That must be quite incredible, wouldn't it?" Mufasa said.
"It truly is incredible."
A few days later, Mufasa saw the giant tribe. Each of them was more than half again as large as The Mountain. The Mountain was eight feet tall, but these giants were all over twelve feet. They were giants of three or four meters, and Mufasa even saw one that was five meters tall.
Over the past few days, Mufasa had been learning how to speak the language of the first men from Val. He had learned simple greetings.
So today, he approached a giant.
"Hello there, big guy. Have you eaten your fill today?" Mufasa asked.
Giants have massive appetites, but they are vegetarians. They don't eat meat; if they did, the other wildlings would likely never live with them, not even if their lives depended on it.
The giant, who was very tall—over four meters—glanced at Mufasa and spoke in the ancient tongue.
"Little one, do you have food?"
Mufasa took out a few nuts. To the giant, they were probably the size of melon seeds.
He took them anyway, cracking them with his teeth and eating them.
"Tastes good, just too few!" the giant said.
"My name is Mao Mao. What is your name?" the giant asked.
"My name is Mufasa. You are the first giant friend I've made, Mao Mao," Mufasa said.
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