Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

Clark

The wind was relentless, howling through the cracks of the stone buildings and sweeping across the endless fields of snow. The cold seeped through Clark's layers, a biting chill that even his Kryptonian physiology had trouble ignoring. The wildlings had been on the move for days now, traveling further north, toward the other tribes, and with each passing hour, Clark felt the tension mounting. They were walking a dangerous line—leaving the relative safety of Craster's Keep and heading into the unknown.

The journey was hard. It was harder for the wildlings than it was for Clark, who could endure this kind of travel for far longer than a human could. But he didn't let that show. He walked with them, beside them, his boots crunching in the snow, his gaze always scanning their surroundings. Every so often, he would find himself glancing over at Tormund or Ygritte, as they led the group, their expressions etched with the strain of the journey.

Clark wasn't the only one who felt the unease. The wildlings, already suspicious of anyone from the south, had grown more wary since they left Craster's Keep. Tormund's leadership was being tested every step of the way, and Clark could feel the uncertainty in the air. Some were reluctant to trust him, and others, though they had accepted his aid, still eyed him warily. Clark understood. Trust wasn't something easily earned, especially when the stakes were so high.

Tormund was doing his best to keep the group together, but it wasn't easy. The wildlings had lived a life of constant struggle and war, and many of them were used to being alone, to surviving on their own terms. For them, unity was a foreign concept. Clark knew that if they were to survive, if they were to stand a chance against the White Walkers, they would have to find common ground. But that was easier said than done.

Every day, the cold seemed to cut deeper, the landscape more desolate. The terrain was unforgiving, and the farther they traveled, the more they felt the weight of isolation. It was as if the world itself was conspiring against them, pressing them into a tighter and tighter corner.

At night, the campfires offered some respite from the biting cold, but they were far from comfortable. The wildlings huddled together for warmth, but even the flickering flames couldn't chase away the unease that hung over them. Clark often found himself staring into the fire, thinking about Earth, about the people he had left behind. There were so many parallels between the two worlds—both on the brink of destruction, both fighting forces they didn't fully understand.

In the stillness of the night, as the wildlings slept fitfully around him, Clark felt the weight of his responsibility. He wasn't just here to help the wildlings survive the White Walkers. He had a mission, one that extended beyond this immediate threat. If the wildlings didn't unite, if they didn't make it through the coming storm, then the world—his world—would be lost. There was no question in his mind that the White Walkers were just the beginning of something far darker, something that had the potential to consume both worlds.

He couldn't let that happen.

---

Tormund

The days had blurred together, the miles stretching out before them like an endless white sea. Tormund was starting to feel the weight of the journey in his bones. Every step was harder than the last, every day colder, more exhausting. But he couldn't afford to stop. Not now.

The wildlings were still with him, but the cracks were starting to show. Some were growing restless, murmuring that they should have stayed behind, that Craster's Keep, for all its faults, had been better than this journey through the endless cold.

Tormund could understand their feelings. He'd felt it too. The further north they traveled, the more uncertain everything became. The other tribes were known for their brutal ways, their reluctance to join forces with anyone who wasn't their own. Tormund had been trying to keep the morale high, but it was becoming harder to convince the wildlings that this journey was worth it.

At night, as the fires flickered in the camp and the sounds of the wildlings' restless movements filled the air, Tormund pulled Clark aside. He had been struggling with a decision for days now, unsure of how to approach the growing tension.

"We can't keep going like this," Tormund said, his voice low, filled with frustration. "There are too many who doubt us. Who doubt me. If we don't do something soon, we'll lose them."

Clark glanced around at the camp. The wildlings were scattered, huddling around the fires, some speaking in hushed voices. He could see the unease in their eyes, the suspicion that had never really gone away. But he also saw something else—resolve. They were still here, still willing to fight, and that counted for something.

"They'll follow you, Tormund," Clark said quietly. "But you need to give them something to follow. You need to give them hope."

Tormund scowled, rubbing his beard. "Hope won't feed them. It won't keep them alive."

Clark nodded. "No, but trust will. They need to see that you're not just another leader, that you're different from Craster. You need to show them you're willing to do whatever it takes to survive. You need to lead with your actions, not just your words."

Tormund's expression softened, but only slightly. He wasn't used to being told what to do, but Clark's words had an impact. "I know what you mean," he muttered. "But it's hard to show them that when every day feels like we're fighting the wind itself."

Clark's gaze turned to the horizon. "We'll make it. Just stay the course. Keep the faith."

The two men stood in silence for a moment, each feeling the weight of the journey ahead. They had come this far, and they couldn't afford to stop now.

---

Ygritte

Ygritte watched the exchange between Clark and Tormund from a distance, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. The cold had a way of sharpening her senses, and she could feel the tension in the air like a live wire, crackling beneath the surface. She knew the wildlings better than anyone, and she knew that trust was something that could be easily lost, especially when survival was on the line.

The journey had been hard on everyone, but it had been hardest on Tormund. He had taken on the mantle of leadership, but not everyone was convinced he was the right man for the job. There were whispers in the camp, voices of doubt that seemed to grow louder each day.

But Ygritte knew one thing for sure—Tormund was the best they had. He might not be perfect, but he was their best shot at survival. She had seen it in him, in the way he had fought for his people, in the way he had stood tall in the face of adversity. If anyone could bring the wildlings together, it was him.

She walked over to where he stood, his face hidden beneath the hood of his cloak, his hands clenched at his sides. He didn't speak as she approached, but she could feel his tension in the air.

"You're carrying too much weight," she said softly. "They'll follow you if you show them you can carry them through this. But you don't have to do it alone."

Tormund looked at her, his blue eyes filled with a weariness that she hadn't seen before. "I don't know if I can do it, Ygritte. I don't know if I'm the right one."

Ygritte stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are. You just need to believe it."

He gave her a small nod, his expression softening. She was right. It was time to stop doubting, to stop wondering if he was enough. The wildlings needed a leader, and he had to be that leader.

"Thank you," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Ygritte gave him a crooked smile. "Just don't screw it up."

Tormund chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. "I'll do my best."

---

Clark

As the night fell over the camp, Clark couldn't help but feel the weight of what was to come. The wildlings had been marching for days, and they were all tired—physically and mentally. But there was no turning back now. The northern tribes would either join them or leave them to face the White Walkers alone. And Clark knew that without unity, they didn't stand a chance.

As he sat by the fire, staring into the flames, he thought about the future. About Earth. About what would happen if they failed. But that thought was too much to bear, so he pushed it aside. For now, there was only the wildlings and the journey ahead. He could only hope that their determination, their resolve, would be enough to carry them through.

But deep down, Clark knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened, he would be there with them. Every step of the way.