Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

Clark

The fire burned bright, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground. The cold was unrelenting, but Clark didn't mind it as much as he had when he first arrived. In fact, he'd become more accustomed to it—this harsh world beyond the Wall. The wildlings had taken him in, and he was beginning to feel less like an outsider with each passing day.

But the rumors were thick in the air tonight. Whispers among the wildlings were growing louder, and the name on everyone's lips was one Clark had heard many times before: Mance Rayder. Some were afraid of what he represented, while others seemed to see him as the hope they'd been waiting for.

"Mance Rayder's been gathering clans," Ygritte said softly as she sat beside him. Her eyes flickered toward the distant mountains, where shadows of the night seemed to move on their own.

Clark looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Gathering clans? To do what?"

"To unite us," Ygritte replied with a hint of skepticism. "They say he's bringing everyone together—Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Hill tribes. He wants to unite the free folk, get them ready to cross the Wall and escape the Others."

Clark thought about this for a moment. His first instinct was not to oppose Mance, but to understand his approach. The wildlings needed a leader, and Mance was proving he had the ambition to take on that role. Clark had no interest in becoming the leader of every clan, but he did see the value in uniting them against the looming threat beyond the Wall.

"I've heard his name," Clark said, his tone measured. "Seems like the free folk need someone like him right now. If they're going to survive, they need unity, not division."

Ygritte regarded him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Maybe. But the wildlings are a proud bunch. They don't follow anyone easily. Even Mance will have trouble making them all bow to him."

Clark nodded. He knew Ygritte was right. The wildlings had been divided for centuries, each clan keeping to itself. But the time for that might be running out. The Others were coming. The cold, the darkness, the fear—it was all enough to make even the proudest free folk think about survival over pride.

"If he's uniting them," Clark said, more to himself than to Ygritte, "then he's doing what needs to be done. But the question is—how do we help?"

---

Building Trust

Clark's thoughts lingered on Mance's rise as he continued to work alongside the clans. Though he didn't consider himself the leader of the Thenns, the Ice River Clan, or Tormund's group, the wildlings had come to see him as someone they could rely on. His actions—his willingness to work, to learn, to fight—had earned their respect, even if the word "leader" wasn't something they applied to him just yet.

The Thenns were quiet and reserved, but they trusted Clark more with each passing day. He had spent hours helping them rebuild their homes, fix their weapons, and share knowledge. The Ice River Clan, too, was beginning to warm to him, though they remained cautious. Tormund, ever the wildling, had yet to make up his mind completely.

But the more Clark learned about these people, the more he understood why they were so reluctant to follow anyone. The free folk were independent to a fault, and their pride ran deep. They didn't just follow strength—they followed someone they believed in.

As the days went by, Clark found himself spending more time in conversation with the wildlings. He shared stories of his past, though he kept some details hidden. They listened intently, always curious about where he had come from and how someone like him had ended up beyond the Wall. He began to understand their ways, their customs, and their fears. It was slow work, but it was progress.

A Moment of Reflection

One evening, as the wind howled outside, Clark sat with Tormund by the fire. They had been talking for hours, about everything and nothing, as men often did around a fire.

"You've come a long way," Tormund said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "There's something about you, something the clans see in you. They may not follow you yet, but they respect you."

Clark nodded, though he knew the truth. Respect was one thing. Trust was something else entirely.

"I'm just trying to help," he said simply. "I don't want to be their leader. But I want to help them survive. If Mance can unite them, if he can bring them all together for what's coming, then I'll stand by him."

Tormund eyed him closely, as though trying to read the depths of Clark's words. Finally, he spoke again. "You think he can do it? Unite all the clans?"

Clark thought for a moment. "I don't know. But the wildlings are strong, and if they're willing to fight together, they'll have a chance."

Tormund's lips curled into a half-smile. "You've got the right mindset, at least. You're not like the others. Most people around here only care about what they can get. You, though—you're different. That's why I think the wildlings will listen to you, even if you don't want to lead them."

Clark gave him a small, appreciative smile. "I'm not looking to lead. Just to help."

---

The Night Ahead

As the fire crackled and the wind picked up outside, Clark realized that the coming days would be filled with uncertainty. Mance's rise might be inevitable, but Clark knew one thing: if the wildlings were to survive, it wouldn't be because one man stood alone at the top. It would be because they all stood together.

Clark wasn't the leader of the Thenns, the Ice River Clan, or Tormund's group yet. But he wasn't looking to be. He was looking to help them, to build something with them, to fight with them.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.