"Tormund."

His name escapes my lips without my permission, before I can stop it. It could have been either a whisper or a shout, but I know it came out loud enough to catch Lady Sansa's and Jon Snow's attention. I try not to sound or look too terrified, but deep inside I know I have failed miserably. I start feeling a blush on my cheeks.

Bran Stark, now the Three-Eyed Raven, saw everything. One of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons was hit by the Night King's spear, then brought back to life as an ice dragon and partially destroyed the Wall, making way for the White Walkers to finally pass. My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Eastwatch. Fear overcomes me, because the Long Night, the greatest battle of our lives, is about to begin. But mainly, because I know Tormund is there.

I can't believe I am actually worried about Tormund, of all people. I see the way he looks at me. Like he desires me, like he wants to devour me. He has looked at me this way ever since our eyes first met at Castle Black, and it bothered me so much. I had tried to make it clear several times, but he had insisted. Because I have seen that look before, more than once. He wouldn't be the first man to mock me, and certainly wouldn't be the last. But something inside me makes me wonder: what if he's not mocking me at all? What if he is being sincere?

No, this cannot be. After all, I am Brienne, the Beauty. How I hate this nickname. All the men who ever laid their eyes on me either were mocking me or merely wanted to inherit Tarth. That until I won my place in King Renly's Rainbow Guard. He had treated me with such respect, like no other man had before, that I could not help but having feeling for him. Then Jaime Lannister came along. In the beginning he was unable to hide his repulse towards me, which was reciprocal, but after what we went through together, we learned how to respect each other. And now, the Wildling fellow with the red beard. With Tormund, however…

I wish I could be sure he is just another man mocking me, but I can't bring myself to believe it at all. And, for some odd reason, I feel I will miss his smiles, his glares, watching me sparring with Podrick. Never before have I felt so confused. So torn. Why does my heart betray my mind this way?

I don't know what gets to me, but the only thing I know right now is I need to know that Tormund is alright, that he has survived the attack. I have to save him. As soon as possible. My mind is yelling at me, telling me I should be away from him, but my heart wants to just take one of Daenerys' dragons, fly to Eastwatch and unbury the Wildling from the snow. Straight to my arms.

Jon's voice interrupts my thoughts. They are talking about a rescue mission. I don't think twice, don't even blink: I am the first one to volunteer, and I surprise myself with it. A part of me expects Lady Sansa to stop me from going, since she would need my protection. However, with only a smile and a nod, she seems to have listened to the other part of me, the one that's now grateful for allowing me to join the mission.

With a relieved sigh, I follow Lord Snow and the others in order to start making arrangements. I'm not quite sure about my decision just yet. My mind tells me I must stay in Winterfell beside Lady Sansa. My heart, the loudest voice now, makes me say out loud:

"Wait for me, Tormund. I'm coming for you."