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Flint's Finger was the seat of House Flint of the North, located on the southern shore of Blazewater Bay, north of the Flint Cliffs and east of Cape Kraken.
From there, one could see the waters of the Sunset Sea stretching into Blazewater Bay.
Some of the smallfolk living outside Flint's Finger usually relied on their proximity to Blazewater Bay to gather sea creatures and fill their hungry stomachs.
"Whoa! Father, look! So many big ships!"
A smallfolk man was taking advantage of the morning low tide to search the shallows for edible shellfish when his young son's startled cry reached his ears.
The father lifted his head and saw at least a hundred single-masted, square-sailed longships in the distance, all flying the kraken sigil.
The fleet seemed to cover nearly the entire sea. From far to near, it came from the Sunset Sea toward the inner waters of Blazewater Bay.
Seeing the kraken sigil that had once filled him with terror, the man suddenly dropped the shellfish in his hand, turned, scooped up his son, and shouted, "Run! Run! The squids are here!"
His shout immediately drew the attention of the smallfolk across the shallows. In an instant, everyone began fleeing toward Flint's Finger.
After all, more than ten years earlier, the ironborn who had ravaged the Sunset Sea had filled every smallfolk living near the coast with fear.
This time, however, the ironborn had not come for them. Instead, they crossed Blazewater Bay and headed toward the Saltspear and the Fever River.
Among the smallfolk near Flint's Finger was one unusually calm man. Seeing the Iron Fleet sail toward the Saltspear, he turned and ran to the house he had temporarily rented for this mission.
Before long, a raven spread its wings and flew into the sky.
When the Iron Fleet of the Iron Islands reached the Saltspear, the ten longships carrying Ramsay and his close retainers broke away from the fleet.
Led by Aeron Greyjoy and Dagmer Cleftjaw, they followed the river channels toward Torrhen's Square.
Meanwhile, Victarion Greyjoy, Lord Captain of the Iron Fleet, prepared to land at the Fever River and launch a surprise attack on Moat Cailin.
After more than half a day of sailing, Victarion finally landed with thirty-three hundred ironborn at the headwaters of the Fever River. More than a hundred longships lined up side by side, filling the not especially wide river from bank to bank.
The ironborn who had previously gathered information on the northern army had already been waiting for a long time.
After following the northern army to Greywater Watch and releasing a raven to report the situation, they had returned to the Fever River to wait. There was no one here for them to plunder, and they had long since grown bored.
They had narrowly escaped Bloodwind's jaws without even knowing it.
At the time, after Bloodwind followed behind them and confirmed that they had released the raven, the direwolf had wanted to treat them as snacks. Robb had stopped him only because he feared startling the prey.
"Lord Victarion, Moat Cailin currently has only a few hundred archers. They are all defending against enemies to the south and are barely paying attention to the north.
And the northern terrain is different from the south. There are no swamps or wetlands there.
With so many ironborn, we can rush them all at once and take the place easily."
One of the ironborn scouts saw Victarion and immediately saluted as he reported.
"Mm. You have done well. Once we take the North, I will reward you with more thralls."
Fully armed and carrying a huge axe in one hand, Victarion answered in a deep voice.
"Thank you for your reward, my lord. Then let us set out quickly."
"You lead the way."
Of the more than thirty-three hundred ironborn, Victarion left several dozen to guard the longships. The rest followed the scouts and moved toward Moat Cailin.
The more than three thousand ironborn moved as a dark, sprawling mass with no formation to speak of. Victarion considered that perfectly natural. He simply lowered his head and marched, making no attempt to discipline them.
Several hours later, Victarion and the ironborn under his command could already see Moat Cailin's three towers in the distance.
After reaching the hiding place chosen by the scouts, Victarion ordered the ironborn, somewhat tired from their hurried march, to rest. At the same time, he drew up a rough and simple attack plan.
He would lead twelve hundred ironborn to attack the seemingly intact Gatehouse Tower. Ragnor Pyke, a capable man from his Iron Victory, would lead one thousand ironborn against the tall, slender Children's Tower, whose crown had lost half its top.
Another capable man, Longwater Pyke, would lead the remaining thousand ironborn against the leaning Drunkard's Tower.
All three groups would sneak as far forward as possible. When Victarion sounded the attack horn, they would attack at the same time and swiftly take the towers while the northern soldiers' attention was on the south.
After resting for about half an hour, more than thirty-two hundred ironborn silently checked their leather armor, weapons, and gear, making their final preparations before battle.
Their weapons were varied. Some carried bows on their backs and short daggers in their hands, while others were still accustomed to using longswords.
Most of them, however, used short-handled axes. The handles were about a yard long, easy to grip and still powerful enough for chopping.
Hooks had also been added to the ends of the axe hafts, likely for hooking ship rails while climbing or dragging enemies in during an attack.
Once he was certain they were ready, Victarion exchanged a glance with his two capable subordinates. They nodded to one another, then led their men separately toward the three towers.
Naturally, the ironborn could not swagger openly down the kingsroad. They used the many trees and bushes beside the road as cover, drawing steadily closer to Moat Cailin's three towers.
Awooo!
A long horn sounded, breaking Moat Cailin's calm.
Victarion, who had not yet reached the position he wanted, raised his head in stunned surprise to listen.
That horn did not belong to the ironborn.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
North of Moat Cailin's three towers, several hundred archers suddenly appeared and loosed a volley toward Victarion's three groups of ironborn.
Victarion's force of more than three thousand men had indeed been using trees and brush for cover. If Moat Cailin's defenders had not been paying attention, they would not have been easy to discover.
But the defenders had known in advance that they would come to launch a surprise attack and had been watching closely. This dense rain of arrows drew beautiful arcs through the air and fell accurately into the three clusters of ironborn.
"Ah!"
Aside from Victarion, who wore heavy armor, the other ironborn were all in tight leather armor. Such armor might blunt the edge of a blade, but it could not stop the bite of sharp arrows.
Beside Victarion, an unlucky ironborn was struck straight through the eye by an arrow. The sharp point carried blood as it emerged from the back of his skull, and he fell without a sound.
Another ironborn was hit in the chest. The sharp arrow pierced straight through his leather armor and his body. He fell to the ground, vomiting blood and screaming as he grabbed Victarion's leg, begging for help.
Crack!
The axe in Victarion's hand came down hard on the ironborn's head, instantly sending red and white matter splattering.
"What is dead may never die!
Damn it, they found us. Blow the horn. Charge, quickly!"
Knowing they had been discovered and that the surprise attack could only become a direct assault, Victarion gave the suffering ironborn a swift, clean death. Then he roared and charged first toward the Gatehouse Tower.
Ooooo! Ooooo!
"Charge!"
The ironborn horns sounded. These pirates, who lived by plunder and raiding, shouted fearlessly and charged toward the three towers, facing the baptism of the second arrow storm head-on.
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