Lancelot and Melisandre arrived at a fork in the tunnel.
"Which way?" Lancelot asked.
"Melisandre?"
Melisandre didn't answer immediately. Instead, two long black snakes slithered out from under the hem of her red dress, one heading left and the other right, disappearing into the tunnels.
"Is this shadow magic too? It looks rather... how should I put it?" Lancelot scratched his head, stopping himself from saying "disgusting."
"Magic is useful, even if sometimes it isn't visually pleasing," Melisandre said, seemingly guessing his thoughts.
Less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the snake from the left tunnel returned, slithering back under Melisandre's feet before dissolving into black smoke.
"Go right! The left is a dead end. I will lead the way," she said.
Melisandre took the lead, and soon the two arrived in a vast, open cavern. There were no signs of excavation, suggesting it was natural.
However, in the very center sat a massive ice coffin.
"It's huge! That ice coffin must be twenty feet long!" Lancelot estimated its size.
"Could the wildlings actually have some treasure?" Lancelot rubbed his hands together.
"Beneath this ice coffin, there seems to be something... magical?" Melisandre's burning eyes fixated on the giant coffin.
"Can we force it open?" Lancelot asked.
"Better to use magic!"
"Firebird Art: Dance of a Thousand Birds."
Melisandre conjured a thousand flaming sparrows. They chirped and circled a few times before diving straight into the ice coffin.
White mist rose instantly from the coffin—a clash of ice and fire.
It was a battle of endurance: would Melisandre's mana run out first, or would the ice coffin's seal break?
The mist grew thicker, filling the entire space. Unable to disperse quickly, it condensed into rain, soaking both Lancelot and Melisandre to the bone.
But as the firebirds vanished, a large hole finally melted through the coffin, revealing a gigantic skull inside.
"What a huge head! This must be an ancestor of the Hornfoot men. If you told me it was a giant's ancestor, I'd believe it," Lancelot said.
"Wait, no... this probably is a giant's ancestor! Could this be a giant's tomb, not a Hornfoot one?"
Lancelot was filled with doubt.
---
Outside the cave, the two Hornfoot captives seized the moment when Aguda was distracted and tried to slip away.
They ran barefoot across the snow, unbothered by the freezing cold.
By the time Aguda noticed, it was too late.
But Hrakkar let out a low growl and flew toward them, pinning each man to the ground with a massive paw.
Roar!
Hrakkar's roar nearly ruptured their eardrums.
"Why are you running? Are you hiding something from us?" Aguda demanded.
The two Hornfoot men refused to speak, even under threat of death, which infuriated Aguda.
"Hrakkar, crush their skulls! They won't talk."
Hrakkar pressed down slightly with his paws, and the sound of two watermelons bursting echoed.
Crimson snow stained the ground.
"We need to burn them. I'll find firewood. You guys wait at the cave entrance for Lancelot and the others," Aguda instructed.
---
Inside the cave, Lancelot now saw the full contents of the ice coffin.
It was a super-sized giant, much larger than modern giants. Its bones were heavy. Lancelot pulled out a rib.
"Using giant bones as weapons seems appropriate!" Lancelot swung the rib experimentally.
"Look, Lancelot. What is that?"
Melisandre pointed to a massive horn next to Lancelot.
Lancelot pulled it out. It was enormous—significantly longer than Lancelot was tall.
Measuring it, Lancelot realized the horn was eight feet long.
"What kind of bull has horns like this? Is this made from an aurochs horn, Melisandre?" Lancelot asked.
"I do not know. But there are ancient runes of the First Men on it. I cannot read them, and I doubt you can either. Let's take it out first..."
Before she could finish, a violent tremor shook the ground.
"Bad news. There might be an avalanche outside. We need to run!"
Lancelot grabbed Melisandre's hand and sprinted toward the exit.
The avalanche outside had been triggered by Hrakkar's penetrating roar.
Tyrion watched as a wall of snow cascaded down the mountain like a waterfall, his face turning ashen.
"We're finished. We're all going to die here."
"Lancelot, hurry up! Without you, Hrakkar won't let us ride him alone!" Tyrion cried.
In the distance, Podrick and Aguda, having just lit the fire to burn the Hornfoot corpses, saw the avalanche. Their legs gave way, and they collapsed onto the ground.
"It's over. No one can outrun an avalanche! Not even the Hornfoot men!" Aguda stared at the white wave with despair-filled eyes.
Just then, a pillar of fire erupted from a crevice in the rocks. Melisandre had used a massive fireball to blast away the blocking boulders, exhausting her mana in the process.
Lancelot, carrying her on his back, grabbed Tyrion at the cave entrance and roared at Hrakkar, who was hovering in the sky.
"Hrakkar, down!"
Like a falling star, Hrakkar slammed into the snow, creating a large crater.
Lancelot scrambled onto Hrakkar's back.
"Take off! Get to Aguda and Podrick!"
As Hrakkar launched into the air, the massive wave of snow crashed down, nearly burying the lion.
"Grab them with your claws!"
Lancelot commanded Hrakkar.
Hrakkar extended his sharp claws from his front paws.
Podrick and Aguda, terrified, covered their heads.
There was no time for Hrakkar to grab them gently by the waist; he aimed for whatever he could reach.
Snatching them up, his claws pierced their chests and backs, but they held on. Hrakkar hadn't used his full strength.
Below them, the snow buried everything, transforming the landscape so completely that it looked as if no one had ever been there.
Once the snow settled, Hrakkar landed.
Lancelot checked on everyone. Melisandre was drained of mana, Tyrion was terrified, and Podrick and Aguda were wounded.
"It seems there's a conspiracy among the wildlings. Why did those two Hornfoot men lure us here?" Lancelot wondered.
Aguda and Podrick bandaged each other's wounds.
Aguda, being a tough wildling, simply rubbed snow into his wounds to freeze them shut and stop the bleeding. Podrick didn't dare do the same.
After tending to Podrick, Aguda approached Lancelot.
He saw the rib bone in Lancelot's hand and the enormous horn.
"What are these, Lord Lancelot?"
"A giant's rib, and a mysterious horn. There are markings on it I don't recognize. Can you read them?" Lancelot asked.
Aguda looked at it, then shook his head.
"We Free Folk still speak the Old Tongue of the First Men, but the knowledge of their written language has been lost. However, I think someone in the North might still be able to read this script," Aguda said.