Coldhands, Bran, Meera, Jojen and Hodor all ride along with Coldhand's elk. Summer follows them, staying nearby but also hunting for food in this land which is becoming increasingly cold and barren. Bran can tell that Summer is keeping some distance from Coldhands for another reason too, beyond the hunt. Summer doesn't like the smell of Coldhands. He smells... well, dead.
A flock of ravens also seems to follow the group, up in the sky.
Bran: I mean the crows following us thing is sort of creepy, but also sort of reassuring. Crows are carrion birds, so one half of me thinks they see how weak and pathetic we are. They're just waiting for us to die so that they can begin eating us. But the other half of me knows that we are going off to visit "the Three-Eyed Crow" from my dreams and therefore I also believe the crows are a good thing. Like Coldhands is warging with the crows and they're helping to lead the way.
Meera: I don't really like this Coldhands guy. Notice how we're all breathing and we can see our breath it the cold? Now look at his mouth.
They look. There is indeed no misty cloud of condensation in the air coming from Coldhand's mouth. But then again, admittedly, Coldhands also has his mouth wrapped up so that it can't be seen.
Bran: Uhh... maybe that scarf covering his mouth is simply blocking his breath so we can't see it. Yeah. That.
Jojen: Whoa man... this dude is... like... totally dead and stuff, bro! I'm so cold man, I can't even light my blunts with them going out.
Bran: Oh shit. I had almost forgotten that we had reinterpreted Jojen as a stoner for the Jingle. Wow. It's been such a long time since once of my chapters. Are there any other radical character re-imaginings that I have forgotten about?
Hodor: To provide an assessment to that inquiry, Lord Brandon, I would have to make a rebuttal in the negative. For I am unable to recall or cite any other modifications to the prevailing dispositions of characters that have been formulated in this reinterpretation of the original novel series. Or at least I envisage that to be so, although I grow increasingly aware of the fact that my cognizance does fade sometimes these days. I would presume that somehow the frigid climate is effecting the function of my hippocampus and causing some sort of neuroanatomical memory disorder.
Jojen: LOL. Whut? *begins chewing his weed since his blunt won't light*
Meera: Hodor says he doesn't think so, but his memory isn't that good because of the cold. Look, all I'm saying about Coldhands is that he doesn't seem to eat or drink either. Creepy.
Bran: I'm starting to remember all those stories that Old Nan told me about monsters that lived behind the wall. Maybe Coldhands is one of them.
Coldhands: Hey! I'm right here, kids. Stop talking about me.
Jojen: This Coldhands dude is, like, taking us to the Three-Eyed Crow, man. Leave him alone. He's far out!
Meera: *grumble* I can't see why this Three-Eyed Crow can't just come to us.
Their next stop is some village where they believe they can find some shelter. But they're unable to find it.
Coldhands: Fuck. I think my compass is broken.
Bran wargs into Summer. Summer finds it, comes back to them, and leads them to it. With the shelter, now they're (temporarily) protected from freezing to death.
But all and all, things are getting worse --not better-- as they continue on. As they wait in the shelter, Bran wargs into Summer yet again, and is off to hunt for food.
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Oh hey. I just ran into a pack of three wolves. Why does this group of wolves seem so familiar?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *howl* [Translation: OH SHIT! It's me again, baby! Look! I'm still alive! Yeah, dudes! The Wights didn't kill me right after the prologue. I told you, narrator! Varamyr will live on, forever!]
Summer/Bran: *woof*? [Translation: Wait, are you eating three dead Wildlings?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *whimper* [Translation: Yeah, I guess. Sort of. Is one of the dead people my own corpse? Probably, but then again I'm sort of a sick fuck. I don't care what Haggon taught me about that being an abomination. This is an abomination. That is an abomination. Blah, blah, blah.]
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Wait, why are we talking to each other?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *howl* [Translation: Good point. This should be a fight scene. Wolf buddies, ATTACK!]
And so One Eye/Varamyr orders his wolves to attack Summer/Bran. But Summer/Bran is a GIANT, AWESOME DIREWOLF and these three other wolves are just regular wolves. Summer quickly beats the shit out of One Eye/Varamyr. One Eye rolls over, showing his belly and submitting.
One Eye/Varamyr: *whimper* [Translation: I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! DUDE, I SUBMIT! Damnit! I used to be Varamyr Sixskins. The greatest warg of all time. Now I'm submitting to a goddamn boy?]
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Damn right you are].
Summer/Bran then starts eating the dead bodies himself. Which is super messed up. Bran is eating people. Gross, right? But Summer is hungry as hell, so he doesn't care. But nearly as important as the food is that the wolf pack now belongs to him.
Bran suddenly snaps out of Summer. He's back in the shelter by a fire that Coldhands has started. Coldhands has also caught some food.
Coldhands: Okay kids, time to eat. I know it's not much. But it's what there is.
Meera: Why don't you also eat something yourself, Coldhands?
Coldhands: Hahaha, no. I'm already... uhh... so full!
Meera: *eyes Coldhands suspiciously*
Bran: Seriously Coldhands, who are you?
Coldhands: Okay. You got me, you got me! I'm dead.
Meera: I knew it! And who exactly is this Three-Eyed Crow you're taking us too?
Coldhands: A friend. The Last Greenseer.
Jojen: WHOA! Like, what about me, dude!? I'm right here.
Bran: This is messed up. We're following some sort of dead monster?
Coldhands: Yes. But I'm your dead monster, Bran.
Sitcom Audience: Awwwww!!!
Crow: YOURS! YOURS! YOURS! *squawk*
Meera: What the fuck, Jojen? You're supposed to have these visions and shit. What are we supposed to do now? Was this in your green dreams? Following this dead guy?
Jojen: Hey sis, get off my case. We don't have, like, a choice. It's too late to turn back now, Meera. We'd never make it back alive. We, like, totally go with this monster dude or we die. Plus maybe this Three-Eyed Crow has some chewables.
Crow: Corn?
A flock of ravens also seems to follow the group, up in the sky.
Bran: I mean the crows following us thing is sort of creepy, but also sort of reassuring. Crows are carrion birds, so one half of me thinks they see how weak and pathetic we are. They're just waiting for us to die so that they can begin eating us. But the other half of me knows that we are going off to visit "the Three-Eyed Crow" from my dreams and therefore I also believe the crows are a good thing. Like Coldhands is warging with the crows and they're helping to lead the way.
Meera: I don't really like this Coldhands guy. Notice how we're all breathing and we can see our breath it the cold? Now look at his mouth.
They look. There is indeed no misty cloud of condensation in the air coming from Coldhand's mouth. But then again, admittedly, Coldhands also has his mouth wrapped up so that it can't be seen.
Bran: Uhh... maybe that scarf covering his mouth is simply blocking his breath so we can't see it. Yeah. That.
Jojen: Whoa man... this dude is... like... totally dead and stuff, bro! I'm so cold man, I can't even light my blunts with them going out.
Bran: Oh shit. I had almost forgotten that we had reinterpreted Jojen as a stoner for the Jingle. Wow. It's been such a long time since once of my chapters. Are there any other radical character re-imaginings that I have forgotten about?
Hodor: To provide an assessment to that inquiry, Lord Brandon, I would have to make a rebuttal in the negative. For I am unable to recall or cite any other modifications to the prevailing dispositions of characters that have been formulated in this reinterpretation of the original novel series. Or at least I envisage that to be so, although I grow increasingly aware of the fact that my cognizance does fade sometimes these days. I would presume that somehow the frigid climate is effecting the function of my hippocampus and causing some sort of neuroanatomical memory disorder.
Jojen: LOL. Whut? *begins chewing his weed since his blunt won't light*
Meera: Hodor says he doesn't think so, but his memory isn't that good because of the cold. Look, all I'm saying about Coldhands is that he doesn't seem to eat or drink either. Creepy.
Bran: I'm starting to remember all those stories that Old Nan told me about monsters that lived behind the wall. Maybe Coldhands is one of them.
Coldhands: Hey! I'm right here, kids. Stop talking about me.
Jojen: This Coldhands dude is, like, taking us to the Three-Eyed Crow, man. Leave him alone. He's far out!
Meera: *grumble* I can't see why this Three-Eyed Crow can't just come to us.
Their next stop is some village where they believe they can find some shelter. But they're unable to find it.
Coldhands: Fuck. I think my compass is broken.
Bran wargs into Summer. Summer finds it, comes back to them, and leads them to it. With the shelter, now they're (temporarily) protected from freezing to death.
But all and all, things are getting worse --not better-- as they continue on. As they wait in the shelter, Bran wargs into Summer yet again, and is off to hunt for food.
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Oh hey. I just ran into a pack of three wolves. Why does this group of wolves seem so familiar?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *howl* [Translation: OH SHIT! It's me again, baby! Look! I'm still alive! Yeah, dudes! The Wights didn't kill me right after the prologue. I told you, narrator! Varamyr will live on, forever!]
Summer/Bran: *woof*? [Translation: Wait, are you eating three dead Wildlings?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *whimper* [Translation: Yeah, I guess. Sort of. Is one of the dead people my own corpse? Probably, but then again I'm sort of a sick fuck. I don't care what Haggon taught me about that being an abomination. This is an abomination. That is an abomination. Blah, blah, blah.]
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Wait, why are we talking to each other?]
One Eye/Varamyr: *howl* [Translation: Good point. This should be a fight scene. Wolf buddies, ATTACK!]
And so One Eye/Varamyr orders his wolves to attack Summer/Bran. But Summer/Bran is a GIANT, AWESOME DIREWOLF and these three other wolves are just regular wolves. Summer quickly beats the shit out of One Eye/Varamyr. One Eye rolls over, showing his belly and submitting.
One Eye/Varamyr: *whimper* [Translation: I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! DUDE, I SUBMIT! Damnit! I used to be Varamyr Sixskins. The greatest warg of all time. Now I'm submitting to a goddamn boy?]
Summer/Bran: *howl* [Translation: Damn right you are].
Summer/Bran then starts eating the dead bodies himself. Which is super messed up. Bran is eating people. Gross, right? But Summer is hungry as hell, so he doesn't care. But nearly as important as the food is that the wolf pack now belongs to him.
Bran suddenly snaps out of Summer. He's back in the shelter by a fire that Coldhands has started. Coldhands has also caught some food.
Coldhands: Okay kids, time to eat. I know it's not much. But it's what there is.
Meera: Why don't you also eat something yourself, Coldhands?
Coldhands: Hahaha, no. I'm already... uhh... so full!
Meera: *eyes Coldhands suspiciously*
Bran: Seriously Coldhands, who are you?
Coldhands: Okay. You got me, you got me! I'm dead.
Meera: I knew it! And who exactly is this Three-Eyed Crow you're taking us too?
Coldhands: A friend. The Last Greenseer.
Jojen: WHOA! Like, what about me, dude!? I'm right here.
Bran: This is messed up. We're following some sort of dead monster?
Coldhands: Yes. But I'm your dead monster, Bran.
Sitcom Audience: Awwwww!!!
Crow: YOURS! YOURS! YOURS! *squawk*
Meera: What the fuck, Jojen? You're supposed to have these visions and shit. What are we supposed to do now? Was this in your green dreams? Following this dead guy?
Jojen: Hey sis, get off my case. We don't have, like, a choice. It's too late to turn back now, Meera. We'd never make it back alive. We, like, totally go with this monster dude or we die. Plus maybe this Three-Eyed Crow has some chewables.
Crow: Corn?
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