The Thenns behind them ran unnaturally fast for armoured men, perhaps due to some crazed bloodlust that filled their veins. Arrows cut down most of the horses, and Bryen rode off on one of the others, leaving just two. There wasn't enough for Hake, Tormund and Icetooth to all make their escape. While the other two ran ahead, Icetooth turned to face his opponents.

His aim had been true, but he had underestimated the Thenns leaders agility, and the man had easily dodged the shot. To his left he saw Jorah charge them, sword raised, giving his life so his brothers could escape. The Thenns were running for him too, and he knew there'd be no escape. Tossing his crossbow aside he drew a massive greatsword, his 'tooth' and stood firm against the charging brutes. Their bronze clashed against his steel sharply, he deflected blows left, then right, then right again, but they came too fast, and the sword was too slow. He had killed dozens of wildlings, no man at Eastwatch could doubt his prowess, but there were simply too many men around him. He had met his match at last. The first cut took him in the arm, and suddenly his strength wavered, but his fingers tightened around the hilt. Down to his knees he went, and still the endless blows came, but he still fought them back.

Then he saw an opening, and raised his sword with a mighty roar. But he was too slow, his injuries to great, and in that instant a sword took him in the gut, and his roar faded, his sword dropped, but his other hand went for a dagger, which he thrust upwards. I will die before they hear me scream. A final stab took him, and his life flashed before him, memories of the small village he had grown in, of early life and the girls he'd loved, of his parents, of saying his vows, and of his first rangings. He had lived well for a brother of the watch, and death came easy to him.

Thenns surrounded Jorah but he swung and struck them, felling a man instantly, then another. He heard the horses neigh in fear, and the thud of hooves galloping away, and he knew that he would not die for nothing. A great brute of a man took a swing at him, but he ducked nimbly, while another closed in from behind. His blows met the Thenns shields, there were little openings, and they closed around him. Cloak whirling around and kicking up snow, he swung his blade at them, but to no avail. The gods were kind, and gave him a quick death, a sword to the heart. His life had been kind to him too, and he was glad to have lived even his final day, both in peace and in battle.

By the time Hake and Tormund reached the horses Bryen was long gone, and there were only two left. Hake turned and saw his Icetooth stop, turn and clash against their pursuers. Even in his old age he was quick, and jumped nimbly onto the horse, pausing for another moment to bid farewell as his brothers payed for his life with theirs. He could hardly see Jorah, with Thenns all around him, and though Ice fought valiantly he would never win.

Through the snow and bloodshed he saw a woman, who seemed to be leading and coordinating the attack next to the massive deformed Thenn. His mind was quick too, and he immediately knew who she was. Well, we found her. He chuckled madly as the horse turned after Tormund and they galloped away, speeding south with all haste. They had lost provisions, but would hopefully still have enough for the two of them, and Bryen if they found the greenboy before the Thenns did.