After leaving the workshop, Garon imdiately returned to the inner keep to inspect Newgate's preparations for departure.
By the ti dry rations had been distributed and he personally saw the archers off from Deepwood Motte, it was already afternoon.
anwhile, the Steel Fist Group had begun selecting their captains.
Just as Garon expected, both teams ultimately chose their leaders through the most traditional northern thod possible, martial combat.
The young n fought one another with wooden swords for an entire afternoon before the final captains were decided.
One team selected Ron Glover.
The other, much to Garon's surprise, selected Jon Snow.
Thanks to the sparring sessions Jon had experienced with Garon back in Winterfell, he managed to distinguish himself from the others and earned everyone's recognition.
Seeing that the selection had ended and the sky was already growing dark, Garon simply dismissed the Steel Fist Group for the day.
Afterward, he returned to the inner keep together with Laurence.
Once dinner with Robert's family concluded and they chatted for a short while longer, Garon planned to bathe and retire early.
After all, Westeros lacked the rich nightlife of modern society.
Even nobles had very little entertainnt after nightfall beyond drinking or pursuing romantic pleasures.
And for soone like Garon, who was still unmarried, there was practically nothing else to do except sleep.
A short while later, Garon returned to his bedchamber.
Because the inner keep of Deepwood Motte had been built atop a hill, space inside the castle was extrely limited.
However, as lord of the castle, Garon naturally possessed the largest bedchamber as well as his own private bath.
The bedroom and bath were connected through a concealed side door.
Garon gently pushed open the hidden wooden panel along the right wall and entered the bathing chamber.
At that mont, the bath was empty.
The servants all knew that Garon disliked being attended while bathing.
He removed his clothes and stepped into the steaming bathwater.
The scorching heat instantly turned his skin red and raised goosebumps across his body.
Garon narrowed his eyes comfortably, leaned back against the wooden tub, and let out a long, lazy sigh.
While soaking in the bath, he began silently arranging his plans for the coming days.
"Besides training the Steel Fist Group, I still need to personally visit the four great clans of the Wolfswood: Forest, Tree, Trunk, and Branch."
"The scouts at Sea Dragon Point also need to be organized as quickly as possible…"
Garon remained deep in thought for a long while.
Only after his fingers had wrinkled from soaking too long did he finally rise from the tub.
Before leaving, the servants had already prepared clean towels and a bathrobe for him.
Garon casually wiped away the water on his body, wrapped himself in the robe, and returned through the hidden door to the bedroom beside the bath.
He walked over to the window, opened the shutters, and gazed into the distant night.
The moon tonight was nearly full, and the sky was exceptionally clear.
Faraway snow-covered mountain peaks reflected pale moonlight like rows of jagged white fangs, while the foothills below remained buried in darkness.
That region belonged to the mountain clans who also swore loyalty to House Stark.
Garon silently observed the scenery for a while before shifting his gaze toward the godswood courtyard below.
The mont he saw the heart tree, he once again rembered his encounter with the Three-Eyed Raven inside Winterfell's godswood.
"Even Maester Beckman knows nothing about the promise House Glover supposedly made to the old gods."
"Uncle Robert is equally unaware."
Garon slowly closed the window, extinguished the candles within the room, and lay down upon his bed.
"What exactly is this prophecy?"
He pondered repeatedly yet still could not understand.
The old gods were not like the Lord of Light or the Great Other, beings with distinct identities and wills.
The old gods were more like a primitive form of animism worshipped by the First n.
No matter how much Garon thought about it, he still could not determine what promise House Glover's ancestors might have made with the old gods.
"Do I really have to journey deep beyond the Wall later and find the Three-Eyed Raven myself?"
"That old raven is probably already lurking within Bran's dreams now, waiting for the chance to awaken him."
As his thoughts drifted, Garon gradually began wondering whether Bran would temporarily lose his mory after awakening just like in the original story.
What kind of reaction would Catelyn have then?
Would she still choose to travel south to King's Landing in search of Ned?
Countless complicated thoughts swirled chaotically within his mind.
Before long, Garon's consciousness grew hazy, and he slowly drifted into sleep.
He did not know how much ti passed afterward.
When he awoke once more, he instinctively assud dawn had arrived and subconsciously tried to rise from bed.
But he suddenly discovered that he could not move his body at all.
Garon instantly realized sothing was wrong and imdiately lowered his gaze.
His viewpoint was strangely low.
A gray-white tree trunk resembling pale bone entered his vision.
Instinctively, he swayed slightly, and a blood-red leaf slowly drifted downward without wind.
"How did I beco a tree?"
"Did I transmigrate again?!"
Garon's heart tightened imdiately as he hurriedly observed his surroundings.
Although he could not move his body, his perception was extrely strange.
Not only could he use the carved eyes upon the weirwood's face to observe the surroundings, but he could also vaguely sense everything around him through the roots, branches, and trunk.
Within his field of vision stood a wooden building.
Behind it, he could faintly make out a brightly illuminated hall.
Garon thought briefly before imdiately realizing where he was.
"The godswood…"
"I beca the heart tree inside Deepwood Motte's godswood?"
"How is this possible?!"
"How do I return to my own body?"
His consciousness beca anxious as he instinctively struggled, desperately attempting to free himself from the weirwood tree.
And as his desire to escape intensified, sothing unbelievable suddenly happened.
Whoosh!
His perspective shifted instantly.
Garon felt his consciousness detach from the weirwood tree and rapidly soar upward into the night sky.
His awareness floated above the vast Wolfswood, and he could vaguely sense the presence of every nearby heart tree.
It felt as though, if he wished, he could descend into any one of them.
Garon's thoughts stirred.
He quickly focused on a nearby heart tree and attempted possession.
In the next instant, his surroundings changed completely.
His consciousness appeared within the godswood of a mountain clan settlent.
Several elderly mountain clan elders knelt silently before the heart tree while praying solemnly.
They were preparing to leave the clan and embark upon their final hunt outside.
As Garon listened to their prayers, he gradually realized the truth.
These old n intended to seek death outside the mountains so they would no longer burden their people during the coming winter.
"What exactly is the use of this ability?"
After the mountain clansn departed, Garon silently observed the surroundings with speechless frustration.
He discovered that he still could not do anything at all.
His consciousness withdrew once again.
Afterward, he successively possessed heart trees throughout different parts of the Wolfswood.
And during this repeated process, Garon gradually understood what his ability truly resembled.
"Isn't this basically skinchanging?"
He suddenly understood while possessing the weirwood tree nearest to Winterfell's godswood.
The difference was that ordinary skinchangers bonded with animals.
The Stark children entered their direwolves.
The Three-Eyed Raven entered ravens.
But Garon entered weirwood trees.
"Everyone else can possess beasts."
"Bran can even enter Hodor's body and move freely."
"But what's the point of possessing a weirwood?"
"I can't move."
"I can't speak."
"I can only spy on people?"
Garon felt deeply frustrated.
As usual, he instinctively began looking around again.
"And more importantly, how do I return to my own body?"
Garon withdrew his consciousness once more, intending to return to the heart tree at Deepwood Motte and search for a thod to recover his body.
But just then, an intimate summons suddenly erged from the direction of Winterfell's godswood.
Floating within the night sky, Garon turned toward Winterfell in the distance.
After hesitating briefly, his consciousness drifted toward the ancient heart tree there.
The mont he entered the Winterfell weirwood, a familiar figure imdiately appeared before his eyes.
It was none other than Sansa Stark.
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