EXT. CLEARING - DAY
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Snow driftsacross the bodies of the fallen dead. Eight
corpses lie frozen on the ground-- men, women, and children,
wearing heavy furs. The wind whipsthroughtheir long hair.
At the edge of the clearing, WILL (20), a young ranger
dressed all in black, surveys the grim scene from the back of
his gelding. He gathers his reins and guides his horse south.
EXT. FOREST - DUSK
Will rides hard between the towering pines, his horse’s
hooves kicking up fresh-fallen snow.
He comes to a halt and dismountsbeside two tethered horses.
His comrades, GARED (50) and SERWAYMARROYCE (18), crouch
beside a stream, fillingtheirskins with cold water. They
rise and look to the newcomer expectantly.
Ser Waymar is gray-eyed and graceful, with an aristocrat’s
air of commanddespite his youth. He wears a supple coat of
gleaming blackringmail and a lush sable cloak.
Will and Gared also wear the black of the Night’s Watch, but
their clothes are far less regal, theirleather and fur
battered from hard usage. Garedwears a hood for warmth.
WILL:
We shouldstart back. They’re all
dead.
Gared offers Will his water skin and Will takes a drink.
SER WAYMAR:
Any blood?
WILL:
Not that I saw.
SER WAYMAR:
How close did you get?
WILL:
Close enough to see they was dead.
SER WAYMAR:
(skeptical)
Or sleeping?
GARED:
If Will says they’re dead, they’re
dead. We should head back to the
Wall.
2.
SER WAYMAR:
(with the hint of a smile)
Do the dead frighten you?
GARED:
Mormont said we shouldtrack ‘em.
We tracked ‘em. They won’t trouble
us no more.
SER WAYMAR:
You don’t thinkMormont will ask us
how they died?
He walkstoward his horse. Gared and Will exchange a troubled
glance.
EXT. EMPTYCAMP - NIGHT
Moonlight shines down on the clearing, the ashes of the
firepit, the snow-covered lean-to. If there were corpses on
the ground before, they’re gone now.
The threeridersenter the camp. Theirhorses seem spooked,
as if they smell a predator nearby.
SER WAYMAR:
Your dead men seem to have moved
camp.
Will looks around, confused. He knows what he saw.
WILL:
They were here...
Spotting somethingshimmering on the ground near the firepit,
he walks his horse closer, dismounts and looks down.
Lying at his feet is the hilt of a steel longsword. The blade
has been shattered into a thousand shards.
Will stares at the shattered sword. He knows what this means;
the dread on his face is unmistakable.
From his horse, Garedlooks at the ground. The indentations
where the bodies once lay are still visible-- as are the
faint but unmistakablefootprintsleading away from them.
GARED:
We have to move. Now.
He is interrupted by a neigh. Will’s horse, riderless and
panicked, bolts from the camp site.
3.
Ser Waymar’s horserears back on its hind legs, throwing its
rider to the groundbeforegallopingafter the first horse.
Gared struggles to keep his own horseunder control. Ser
Waymar stands unsteadily, brushing the snow from his cloak.
WILL:
(terrified)
Gods...
He’s staring into the darkness at the edge of the clearing.
Ser Waymarturns to see what the youngtracker sees: a shadow
emerging from the forest.
A figuresteps into the moonlight, tall and gaunt, with flesh
pale as milk. It slidestoward the rangers on silent feet.
Its armorappears to be carved from ice. Its sword is
translucent, a shard of crystal so thin it almostseems to
vanish when seen edge-on.
Ser Waymar’s voicecracks like a boy’s:
SER WAYMAR:
Stay where you are!
The OTHERkeeps coming. Ser Waymardraws his sword with
trembling hands. Will, standing near the fire pit, and Gared,
still on horseback, draw their own swords.