Wild Berry Meadow Tell everybody I'm on my way

Stark’s eye bore into her, unflinching, the weight of his stare enough to crush weaker spirits. Her answer had been small but resolute, and though the fire in her gaze was admirable, he wasn’t one to let sentiment cloud his purpose. If she wanted more, she would have to prove it—and words alone wouldn’t suffice.

“Want more?” he echoed, his voice sharp and cold, slicing through the air like a blade. “Then take it. The world doesn’t bow to wishes, gosling. It devours the weak and mocks the desperate. If you want something from it, you tear it from its jaws.”

His gaze lingered on her, cutting through whatever doubts might linger in her mind. He didn’t sugarcoat the reality she would face, nor would he soften his words for her comfort. He stopped walking only to turn and stand before her, his movements sudden and breathing cruelty.

Comfort forged nothing of worth.

He stepped closer, towering over her as the wind whipped around them, ruffling his scarred coat. His tone lowered, not with kindness, but with a deliberate weight. “You want more? Then show me. Every step you take, every choice you make—it must be toward that goal. You falter, and the world will crush you underfoot. I won’t stop it.”

Stark’s gaze shifted toward the mountains again, their peaks rising like the backs of great beasts, uncaring and unyielding. “Those mountains,” he said, voice steady and regal, “will not welcome you. They will test you. If you survive them, you’ll be stronger for it. If you don’t—” He turned back to her, his single eye gleaming with cold expectation. “—then you’ll prove you were never meant to rise above the dirt.”

He moved then, his steps purposeful as he began toward the looming peaks. Over his shoulder, his voice cut through the air once more. “Now come, Needle."