Meha Stormbringer disliked many things—but what the Queen of the Moon Sisters clan truly disliked, was strangers.

There was enough to worry about beyond the Wall. Animals, the bitter cold, Others—what she didn’t want to worry about was strange Free Folk wandering into her lands and disrupting her clans peace.

Yet here she sat upon her throne of branches with a disheveled wildling before her eyes that she did not know.

The spearwives on patrol had bound them, brought them straight to their Queen and shoved the stranger to their knees before her.

Meha stared at them for a few tense moments, her eyebrow just barely raised. Thistle stood beside her throne, body tense and dagger ready in hand should the stranger choose to act rowdy.

“I’ll hope you’re not from around here,” Meha finally said, leaning forward slightly, her tone anything but inviting. “Because the folk ‘round here usually know not to set foot on my land.”

Meha pulled a dagger from her belt casually, shoving the tip into a branch below her hand harshly. “State your business or lose your tongue. Now.”