Maybe he did want to die.
Who knows?
Maybe if he never saw the Starks in person, it would make giving up so much easier.
He knew he made the decision to try and warn them, but at the same time, he was scared to get involved in the slaughter to come.
He had serious doubts whether he could prevent it anyways… …
Clark recognized the language in his mind and he shut it down instantly.
He would not entertain thoughts like that tonight or any other night.
He was alive.
He had to talk to Howland Reed and he had to get out of here.
And he would do it whether or not he burned through all the moss he had collected.
Speaking of which, the fire was a little low.
And when he reached down for a handful…he heard something.
He froze, moss in hand.
He stood, lowering his hood, and walked to the edge of his firelight, looking into the darkness.
He could, of course, see nothing.
And whatever had made that noise was now frozen.
He was certain that he was being watched.
He was tempted to walk back and dump his whole pile of twigs and moss on the fire, to create the biggest blaze he possibly could under the circumstances.
Something came in the air though that gave him pause.
Closing his eyes, he sniffed softly.
The bog air was strong, but (and he had no idea how he could tell) he could smell wet leather coming from something.
It definitely wasn’t a live animal.
He took another sniff and smelled other things attached to the wet leather.
He couldn’t quite place them…but it felt human.
Clark opened his eyes and peered to the approximate spot where he smelled the leather.
Still dead silence.
“My name’s Tiresias,” he said.
He figured he didn’t have to yell.
He knew they were close enough.
“I’m a traveler.
I’ve come a long way to be here.
Would you show your faces?” No response.
Clark took his belt and knife off and threw it toward the fire.
He spread his arms.
“I’m no enemy of the crannogmen.
I’m looking for Lord Howland Reed.
I’ve a message for him and I also seek his counsel.
Would he see me?” Still just silence from the darkness.
Clark sniffed and knew they were still there.
“Listen, if you are not going to let me see Lord Reed, then could you perhaps help me?
I’m running low on food and water and I’m lost.
Could you direct me out of the Neck?
I was hoping to head north next.” He swallowed the little spit he had.
“I’m sorry for coming onto your land without your permission.
I really am.
But I could use your help now.
I promise I mean no harm.
I swear it by the old gods.” Nothing but nocturnal singing from the insects answered his plea.
Clark was beginning to believe that he had spoken to no one in the darkness.
He lowered his arms and turned toward his fire.
He jumped.
A woman’s face was peering at him by the tree, illuminated by his small moss-fire.
She came farther into the light, revealing herself.
She was small and wiry, with light leather armor covering her shoulders and torso.
She carried a three-pronged spear taller than her and she had a net bundled at her side.
Her brunette hair was tied back tightly and she regarded Clark with suspicion.
Clark remained still.
While he was focusing all his attention on his front, this crannogwoman snuck behind him.
He could hear water moving to his rear.
He turned his head and saw two more crannogmen come into the light.
One was younger than him, blonde and was holding a knife.
It looked like bronze.
The other one was bearded with long, black braided hair.
There was a long pipe slung across his back, which Clark suspected he used for blow darts.
He also carried a spear.
Turning back to the woman, Clark saw her pick up his knife and place it under her own belt.
She walked over to him, regarding him with large brown eyes so dark, they seemed black.
Clark towered over her but she didn’t act like he did.
She stood before him, holding the spear close to his chest.
No fear came from her so Clark did his best to return the favor.
Guessing that she was the leader, Clark swallowed and spoke.
“Hello.
It’s good to see a face.” He paused, wondering what to ask.
They didn’t seem keen on conversation.
“Are you going to kill me?” he asked as politely as he could.
The crannogwoman gave the smallest smirk.
“No sense wasting poison on an idiot who wandered into the Neck, not knowing where to find fresh water,” she said, lowering her spear.
“We leave you here, you’d be dead in three days.” Clark glanced at the other two crannogmen.
They hadn’t lowered their weapons yet.
“Are you going to leave me here to die?” She and her companions exchanged looks before she spoke again.
“That depends.
What do you want with Lord Reed?” “I want to speak to him.” “What about?” “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that,” he said, keeping his refusal as friendly as he could.
The crannogwoman stared at him.
“You really are a bit of an idiot, aren’t you?” “I am.
I still can’t tell you what I need to say to Lord Reed.
It’s for his ears alone.” “And why should we believe that?
You, a complete stranger, are asking for us to stop whatever we’re doing and bring you to our liege lord, on your word that you won’t harm him?
Or be wasting his time?
Why should we bother him with your big secret?” Clark heard something go into the water.
He turned to see the older crannogman extracting a pronged spear from the water, a wriggling dying frog on its end.
He kept his eyes on Clark the whole time.
“It’s not my secret,” he said, turning back to the crannogwoman.
“It’s Lord Reed’s.
It’s a secret he’s been keeping for years.
A secret that could tear the realm apart.” He paused.
He knew he was going into treacherous territory here, but he didn’t see another way.
A little bit of the truth was the best lie.
“And through some stupid, unexplainable reason, I now know the secret.
Now I haven’t told anyone Lord Reed’s secret.
I could have, but I don’t want to.
And if it was only this secret on my mind, I would have left Westeros forever.
Kept it to myself and let the secret die with him.
I wish that was the case.” Despite the fact that Clark knew sincerity wasn’t usually the best way to go in the Seven Kingdoms, he pressed on.
“But unfortunately, that’s not the only thing that haunts me.
I’m no greenseer.
I can’t read the future.
But by the same way I know Lord Reed’s secret, I know that there are things coming.
Wars, a return of magic and enough humanity to rip this land apart.
I want to help…but I don’t know how.
I don’t know how to balance what I know and what I can do against those in power now and what they value.
I’m only human and I need counsel.
I was hoping to seek it from Lord Reed and take appropriate action from there.
But I swear…” Clark raised his hand, hoping it was a good enough gesture.
“I swear, that no matter what happens, I will continue to keep the secret.
And if it is decided that I’m to be killed, I only ask that it be swift and that you allow Lord Reed to make the decision.” The crannogwoman stared at him, trying to figure him out.
The fire was almost out as well, casting her face in even deeper shadows.
“I’ve never heard your accent before,” she said.
“Where you from?” “Across the Narrow Sea.” “Where across the Narrow Sea?” Clark shrugged.
“I don’t know.
My family were nomads.
We kept between the Free Cities and the bays up north.
They died when I was young.
I’ve been sailing since I was twelve.” “And now you’re here in the Neck,” she said, her hands running down her spear.
“Why is it that a nomad from Essos is so concerned about the fate of Westeros?
Why not just go home?” “Essos was never my home.
I…” He broke, a tiny lump in his throat that he wasn’t expecting appeared.
He swallowed and continued.
“I can’t ever go home again.
I have nothing but Westeros now.
I hope to make a life here and I can’t do that if I allow the things that I know are coming to come.” Damn it.
That was an awkward sentence.
She stepped forward, her dark eyes never breaking with his.
“How do you know what’s coming?
You say you’re no greenseer.
So how do you know?” Clark sighed.
“I’m sorry…but that has to be my secret.” She looked his eyes for a minute now.
Clark held her gaze, freely blinking, waiting for her response.
Eventually she looked to her companions.
Clark turned and saw that both of them had lowered their weapons.
He breathed and returned his gaze to the crannogwoman.
She was walking to the dying embers of the fire.
She knelt down, reaching into a pouch.
She sprinkled some powder onto the pit and the flames revitalized.
Clark felt the older man walk by him.
He unfurled his cloak to reveal a bundle of sticks attached to his back.
He began building the fire back up, stronger than ever.
…
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait.