After two long days of relentless marching, the horizon finally yielded to the colossal silhouette of the Great Dividing Wall. The combined force—ten thousand wildland horsemen, five thousand hardened ground warriors, five thousand battle-worn mercenaries, and a thousand elite Mormont soldiers under Kohath's personal command—had arrived.
Campfires soon dotted the plains like stars scattered across the earth. Mercenaries lounged in circles, chewing dried meat and swapping stories while sharpening their blades. The wildland warriors, with their fur cloaks and painted faces, kept mostly to themselves, tending to their steeds and murmuring in low, guttural tones.
The afternoon carried the dull clatter of armor, the neighing of horses, and the thrum of anticipation.
Near the edge of camp, away from the revelry, two figures sat astride their mounts beneath a darkening sky—Kohath and Cain, flanked by their most trusted bodyguards.
