Day after day, with the relentless piling up of time, Thorfinn finally turned thirteen.
To those south of the Wall, a thirteen-year-old might still be seen as a half-grown child, but here beyond the Wall, it was nearly time for a person to live independently. Some girls of this age were already mothers; it wasn't a rare occurrence among the Free Folk.
Thorfinn had been here for two full years, and in those two years, he had undergone an earth-shattering transformation. Perhaps because of the magic that resided within him, Thorfinn's skin was now fair and soft, and his clear blue eyes seemed to pierce through everything. His sharp, sculpted features were extraordinarily refined. With long limbs and a height of just over five-foot-three, the thick furs he wore concealed a nearly perfect physique—muscles that were packed with explosive power, neither clumsy nor compromising his agility.
Two years away from home, Thorfinn's desire to return had grown stronger. Compounded by the recent surge of vitality in his magic, he became increasingly worried about his family. The gods only knew when those cursed Others would appear. Thorfinn had ridden the body of his owl to fly over mountains, across rivers, and through forests to check on his kin, but the result was only an intensified longing.
He had sent a few letters to his mother during this time. The night owl had not failed Thorfinn's expectations, completing every mission brilliantly. After two years away, it was time to go back and see them.
Finally, one evening, Thorfinn told Boro his decision.
Boro: "You're heading back? Hmm... I suppose you can. After all, your old teacher here hasn't had much to teach you for a long while. The only thing you lack now is experience, maybe... Boy, you are far better than I ever imagined. Perhaps you'll even surpass that bastard Varamyr the Sixskins."
Thorfinn: "It's all thanks to my brilliant master. They say a great teacher produces a brilliant student! Boro, you don't need to put yourself down; you truly are a rare and fine teacher."
Boro laughed heartily, his beer-soaked beard twitching continuously. The ale glinted and sparkled in the light of the campfire. "Boy, no need to praise me excessively. I know my own measure; it's your talent that's good. Old Haggen would be green with envy if he knew, ha-ha-ha!"
Thorfinn couldn't help but ask, "Who is Old Haggen, Boro? You sound like you were good friends."
After his laugh subsided, Boro began to recount the past with a look of reminiscence. "Old Haggen was an old friend of mine. He was already quite old when I met him. He was a good man, very loyal. We even attended a gathering of skinchangers together once. He was a Warg. But sadly, his luck was poor; he ran into a beast..."
At this point, Boro looked at Thorfinn and said, "Thorfinn, you must remember never to become a man like him. That kind of fellow is truly a monster."
Then, Boro stared back into the campfire, speaking with a mix of fury and resentment. "In those days, Old Haggen also took an apprentice, just like me. But that boy was nothing like you. He was treacherous, vicious, with no goodness in his heart—an absolute monster. At the age of five, that animal had already used a hound to kill his own younger brother out of jealousy. After his parents found out, they cast him out to Old Haggen...
Old Haggen taught him how to control the warging ability and the rules that must be followed when using it. He shared his knowledge and basic survival skills without holding anything back. Aside from being overly strict, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he treated the boy as his own son.
But that scoundrel never understood Haggen's good intentions. When Old Haggen was on his deathbed, that resentful brute stole his wolf, Gray Skin. I know Haggen had always planned to use that wolf to begin his second life. After Haggen died, the boy took over the hall that rightfully belonged to Haggen.
That monster is Varamyr. Back then, Varamyr called himself Varamyr Threeskins, but after gaining Gray Skin, he started calling himself the Fourskins. For years, I wanted to avenge Haggen, but Varamyr's power grew, and I could no longer fight him.
I hear that monster is living a comfortable life now. Ha! What a bitter jest!"
Thorfinn only sighed, "That is truly awful. Haggen was very unfortunate to meet such a man."
Boro seemed to recall something, and he looked directly into Thorfinn's eyes. "Thorfinn, there's just one thing I need you to promise me: if you ever get the chance, kill him. A man like that deserves to die. But don't go looking for him now. Save it for later. When you've grown a few more years, he won't be your match."
Thorfinn nodded solemnly, engraving the name in his mind. Whether for Morla or for Boro, this was a person he must eliminate in the future, Thorfinn told himself.
Boro was finally reassured. "That's good, that's good. Get some sleep early tonight. You'll be setting out for home tomorrow, and it's a long journey."
The next day, Thorfinn sought out Lyra. He had to say goodbye to her. They had shared quite a few intimate moments these past few days. How could Thorfinn not understand Lyra's feelings? He just didn't want to make it official, not because he didn't care, but because he was afraid of misleading this fine woman.
Lyra was startled by the news that Thorfinn was leaving, but this also made her understand the source of his worries in recent days. Lyra knew this man missed home. And where was her home? Since old Thenya died, she had been without a home, left with only one relative. Now, was even he leaving her? MyThorfinn.
Lyra asked cautiously, "Will you come back? To see me, and to see Boro and me?"
Thorfinn smiled. "I will. We are family, my dear sister. Besides, we are not far from each other, are we? It's only a seven-day journey."
Lyra was finally relieved. At the moment of farewell, Lyra gave Thorfinn a big hug. She had become enamored with this boy without knowing when. She held him tightly, as if wanting to melt into him. Thorfinn held the girl as well. This quiet young witch possessed such charm that for a fleeting moment, he didn't want to leave. But reason told him he had to go. He needed to settle his family.
Lyra reluctantly let go, allowing Thorfinn to depart. She dared not look at him again or step out of the room. She was afraid that one more look would make her burst into tears.
Thorfinn hesitated just before leaving. He steeled his heart and said to Lyra, "Lyra, once I have settled my kin, will you let me come and fetch you? Winter is coming, and our family should be together."
Lyra turned around, gently sobbing, and shouted as loudly as she could, "Yes! Remember what you said, Thorfinn! Don't forget me!"
Thorfinn shook his head with a soft laugh. "How could I?"
Without another word, Thorfinn turned and started his journey home, not looking back, nor lingering. One promise was enough. When the time was right, he would absolutely keep his word, both the promise to Boro and the promise to Lyra.
Growing fainter in the distance, Thorfinn and Alpha walked one behind the other. The Lady Owl clutched Thorfinn's shoulder, eyes closed in rest, apparently unbothered by the rough road. Thorfinn carried a bow and arrows, hunting game to fill his belly when he was hungry, and finding a warm spot to build a fire and sleep when he was tired. Walking with just himself, a great cat, and an owl, he didn't feel lonely. On the contrary, there was a sense of lightness, like a traveler who finds contentment in his own simple means, not needing the trappings of a mounted knight.
However, the road home was seemingly destined not to be peaceful. As Thorfinn walked, he heard the sounds of fighting ahead. He didn't want to invite trouble, so he sent the Lady Owl to scout the situation.
Soaring in the sky, she could see from above that three Thenns were fighting two Free Folk from a nearby village. However, the Thenns had the advantage of numbers, easily overwhelming the two men.
Thorfinn had no intention of interfering. He started to detour around them and continue on his way. The reasons for Free Folk battles were always bizarre—they might draw steel over a single word or bash heads over a woman. Thorfinn certainly didn't want to get mixed up in all sorts of messy business.
But though Thorfinn didn't look for trouble, trouble found him.
Just as he stepped onto a small path, intending to cut through the woods, a woman rushed out from the other side of the forest and toward him. Seeing Thorfinn, the person seemed to have spotted a savior and ran even harder toward him. But Thorfinn's expression changed. The reason was that a few Thenns were chasing after her. They looked like lechers trying to kidnap someone's daughter.
The person running was a beautiful blonde woman with honey-colored hair that reached her chest. Her eyes were gray-white, her cheekbones high and sharp, and her figure was long yet curvaceous. Her movements were graceful. Even while running, she maintained an aristocratic air. At first glance, this woman looked like a princess lost beyond the Wall.
However, judging by the commotion behind her, she was a great nuisance at the moment. Thorfinn couldn't help but quickly move a few steps into the trees, but the woman adjusted her course and ran toward him.
Helpless, Thorfinn efficiently drew his bow and arrows, preparing for a fight. Listening to the noise behind the woman, there seemed to be four or five of them. Thorfinn stood ready, his eyes sharp, like a cheetah preparing to hunt.
The woman was getting closer. When she was about ten paces from Thorfinn, she finally called out, "Run, there's danger behind me!" Out of breath, she added, "They are Thenns! Run!"
Thorfinn continued to ignore the frantic woman. He kept his eyes fixed on the figures emerging from behind her. Thorfinn counted five men. All of them looked vicious and were charging forward aggressively, living up to the Thenns' reputation as near-feral warriors.
When the woman reached Thorfinn's side, he moved. He darted forward, his feet a blur, charging toward the enemies ahead. His powerful mental control kept him calm even in this critical moment. He nocked an arrow, pulled back the string as he had done a thousand times before, fixed his gaze on his enemies one by one, and then the arrows followed.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
He drew and shot the bow without hesitation. His ingrained muscle memory left no room for doubt. The man leading the charge was struck in the center of his brow and collapsed instantly. The two men behind him were also hit by arrows; one died immediately, and the other narrowly avoided a fatal wound but was incapacitated.
The last two men were clearly spooked by the scene, hesitating whether to advance. But that moment of hesitation cost them their lives.
Thorfinn didn't pause for a moment, firing two more arrows that crossed the space and pierced the men's vulnerable bodies. The rest was a clean, ruthless finish. He used his dagger to bleed out the men who were still alive, the small boy being startlingly merciless.
The woman who had run ahead was stunned. Watching this jarring scene, she was filled with both shock and fear. When she looked at Thorfinn again, her eyes showed deep concern. She had only one thought now: this person was truly terrifying, nothing short of a devil. Gods! What a foolish thing have I done?
The skirmish was won without a hitch. Even though this was his first real kill, Thorfinn felt no discomfort. It felt no different from hunting while warging into Alpha!