Dany woke in the morning with a backache. The venture to the barn in search of Jon the night before had stretched for some amount of time she could not recall, since she had fallen asleep soon after their conversation finished. It was only when she was gently shaken awake, stiff and bent awkwardly into Jon's side, with him whispering, "come, your lips are blue," that they had left the barn. Jon had carried her back into the house, into bed, and she had surrendered to sleep once more.

It was pleasantly warm under the furs, at the precipice of wakefulness. She was sure that her lips were no longer blue, although her body was definitely aching with the after-effects of cold and the baby sitting awkwardly to one side. But it was a nice feeling overall, in her little pocket of the world. As if to say hello, Dany felt a few tiny kicks and jabs knead at her. Rytsas rūs, she thought contentedly.

Interrupting her dreamy existence, the door of the house was thrown open and promptly pulled shut again. Cold air extinguished the last of Dany's sleepy haze. This awakening was quickly followed by Jon stumping over to her bedside.

Ruefully, Dany looked up at him and pulled the furs up closer to her nose. "Did you take your boots off?" she asked from beneath them.

"Ah…"

Even though most of her face was hidden, Dany could tell Jon recognized her frown. He stooped down for a moment and she heard the clunk of his boots being tossed aside (when would he learn to put them by the door?) before he popped up again.

From under the furs still Dany asked, "Do you think that some magical Little Valyrian collects your boots and places them by the door, or do you just assume they walk there by themselves?"

"Well, one does, doesn't she?" Jon replied, his eyes lighting up with mirth.

This time, Dany pulled the furs down so that he could have a clear view of her tutting at the idea of being compared to a Qohorian lemur. "Well," she mimicked, moving to be within an inch of his face, "this Little Valyrian is starting to not be able to bend down as well, so the magical Northman in this house better learn how!"

Jon snorted. "I'm sorry," he said with the least amount of sincerity possible. He leaned forward so that their noses were now touching, frustratingly reminding Dany of the considerable length since they last lain together and sending a flush through her. Looking into his eyes made hers flutter, and instinctively she leaned in closer to brush her lips against his. The touch was delicate, and she felt herself beginning to sink into blissful nothingness, a pleasant buzzing in her head as if wine had washed over it, when Jon moved his lips in response before murmuring, "Will kissing the Little Valyrian suffice as an apology or would you like me to find you a banana?"

"Are you ki-"

"Dany?" Enda's voice interrupted Dany's retort and both she and Jon jumped apart, turning to look at the girl in oversize nightclothes standing behind them. "I - uh - I think Rose's clout needs to be changed?"

Jon cleared his throat and stood up. "I can do that," he muttered, and Dany could see that he, too, had turned red.


They had just finished their porridge when, for the second time that morning, the door banged open. This time, however, it took a little longer to close. And nobody carelessly discarded their boots.

"Did you make extra?" Willa asked as she trooped in with Tormund and Kolla.

Dany supposed, as she thought about how much she now preferred Enda's interruptions to Willa's, that she should be used to people entering her house at will. After all, Willa had done it nearly religiously since they arrived and Tormund followed suit.

The sickness that had come so closely after building their house had made both Jon and Dany wary of locks. Very few travelers ever ended up in their area, in any case, and, spooked as Dany could get if she dwelled on their presence for too long, shadowcats did not have thumbs. So far, the only apparent downside of having an accessible house was, in fact, having an accessible house. Therefore, she continually presumed that interruptions were imminent and, as such, pointed Willa and Tormund in the direction of the pot over the hearth.

Kolla, however, lingered back to place her bow and quiver by the door before taking a seat next to Enda. The girl, who had been chattering away up until this point, was now quite subdued when she glanced at her adoptive mother. "Best to move on, lark," Kolla soothed, throwing a meaningful look Dany's way which she plainly took as "I already talked to Willa."

"Going hunting, then?" Jon asked, looking up from feeding Rose.

"Aye," Kolla said. "It's a nice clear day for hunting birds, which is exactly what the two of us need what with so much of the clan to feed."

"Who else trades with you now that Tormund is back for Willa?" Dany asked.

"Half the clan's been getting meat from Kolla," Willa said thickly as she and Tormund made their way back over to the crowded table. "Most of our good fishers are still off with Ulf. And with everything else scarce now, Kolla is our best chance at meat. And Enda of course. She's been coming along well with that too. Haven't seen many girls her age who can shoot a moving target like that."

Enda ducked her head when she heard the praise from Willa. Out of the corner of her eye, Dany saw Kolla pat the girl on the back.

"Nobody else is bringing back food? During the rains, Jon said he saw Inniq out in the woods..."

Several scoffing noises came from around the table and Dany bit her lip, feeling rather stupid. Spearwivery wasn't the only way of life, but it definitely helped socially.

"From what I've heard," Tormund grunted, "he's barely brought back an ermine. I've seen him hunt. Waiting for the kill to come to him, can't even set a proper snare or shoot from a good distance. Whatever tribe taught him how to hunt never taught him how to adapt. Can't hunt like that when nothing's on the ground in front of you. Must've been one of those smaller groups from around Craster's area. They never had to move around for food, always came to them. He looks like one of them, eh, ástin?" The man stroked his red beard thoughtfully as if trying to remember the extinct tribes he spoke of.

Willa shrugged in response. "I could never tell the difference between us once we started grouping together more unless they were cave dwellers. Even one tribe had all different colors of people from taking in orphans or absorbing each other. And we all sound the same now anyway," she said with a nod in Dany's direction, "even Dany's losing her accent."

"There was a lot more shuffling of people once the White Walkers came," Jon said to a bemused Dany, who had really only gotten the free folk history in bits and pieces over the last couple of years. "A lot of traditions and languages were lost when the free folk were trying to survive."

"Like hunting," Kolla explained softly, "Most of us lived by following land prey, or lived off what was around our dwellings. When the Dead came, we just hunted what we could. My people - the true bird hunters - are all gone. Nobody else knew our ways. So it's just Enda and I carrying on for now. It's the safest hunting, anyhow. I can't think of any predators around here anymore that go for birds. Or fowl. That's why they're pretty safe kills. Even a shadowcat scoffs at feathers."

Dany's mind had wandered while Kolla spoke. The talk made her think of the Dothraki once they had come together under her. With a sharp pang, she wondered how many traditions of individual khalasars had been lost when she united them...and then led them to war. What were they like now? She knew from Tyrion and Sansa that there were some still alive who had left Dragonstone with Grey Worm, presuming their khaleesi dead or gone. Had they stayed together under one leader or splintered off again? Had they adapted and survived like the free folk, or fought each other close to extinction?

For a while the only sounds were chewing from Willa and Tormund and Rose's happy hunger noises. Enda was picking at her fingernails, while Dany's eyes trailed away to glance at Drogon and Saphira's egg over the mantle. It seemed to have just become a shining fixture of her household now, the way people stop smelling how distinct a place is if they live in it long enough. Whenever Drogon or Saphira flew overhead on as they took turns hunting, Dany would feel a familiar jolt of remembrance and guilt. Then the day would go on, and she would be distracted by the baby or Rose or Willa or Jon or any other number of occurrences that happened in her daily life.

It's not that I don't want to help it, Dany told herself, it's just that I have no idea how. Still, the guilt was gnawing at her once more. Though, from more than just the egg.

"How's Njal?" Dany finally asked, wrenching herself from her thoughts. She assumed he was on the mend, given Willa's appearance here and the lack of a somber atmosphere, but there was no need to have anyone else feeling guilty as well. Enda looked up from her fingers.

Willa shrugged again. "Alive. Aspen's with him. It looked worse than it was - I don't know much about shadowcats, but I'd bet my lavender plant it wasn't planning on actually killing him. The wounds weren't deep - honestly, it almost looked like it had been an accident if you'll believe that. He'll have those scars forever though. Maybe that'll teach Inniq's little scouts to think for themselves," she finished darkly

Perhaps it was because Kolla noticed, as Dany did, that Enda had turned a pasty shade of white, but she abruptly stood up from the table and cleared her throat. "Well, we'd best get going if we're planning to finish before dark," she said, placing a hand on Enda's shoulder to help her up.

"We'll walk out with you," Willa said, also standing.

"You're not staying?" Dany and Jon asked together. Dany frowned - she was itching to hear about Tormund's journey to the more western clans.

The man nodded as if he had heard Dany's thoughts. "Foraging. We'll be back later," he assured them at the door, without saying more.

After the door had shut, leaving only the little family behind, Dany turned to Jon. He had gotten up to clear away what had been leftover from the eventful breakfast. "Did you get the feeling that we're not being told something?"

"Hm - what?"

I'm being paranoid, Dany decided on seeing Jon's complete indifference to what had transpired. She stood up and helped Rose out of the seat she had been placed in at the table, watching the girl toddle off on legs that grew steadier every day.

These continued run-ins with their shadowcat neighbor had set her more on edge - whether or not it actually meant harm. Willa often told her that it was perfectly fine to feel more protective or stronger instincts while she was pregnant. She remembered some of that from Rose, but she had also walked across half of Westeros to escape her own rule as Queen and then built a life from absolutely nothing with Jon as part of the free folk. Paranoia had been a fair price to pay for that. After all, there were worse fates.

What reason did she have now? Perhaps it was, as Jon described the night before, that she knew exactly what she was worried about: a large cat that silently stalked the woods around her home, able to strip its chosen prey of flesh and marrow, that potentially attacked a boy for food or potentially attacked a boy accidentally. And then there continuing attempts to keep her people safe from being taken into slavery and her dragons safe from a similar fate. The nagging question of whether or not they were actually working beat at a constant rhythm in the background of her thoughts.

And then there was Inniq.

His disfigured face swam in her mind, the four ragged scars a reminder of how determined he could be. If he fought like that for his snared fowl, what would he do for something seemingly so starkly opposed to his ideals?

Trying to hold on so tightly because he'd be loath to find another opportunity, Dany thought darkly, remembering what Tormund said about his hunting.

Hunting...snares… "Jon?"

"Hm - what?" Jon said again, turning around.

"Tormund said Inniq couldn't set a snare."

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Dany, I'd really prefer we just enjoyed our day instead of fretting about Inniq."

"But if he can't-"

"Dany," Jon cautioned, walking over and putting his arms around her. He pulled her flush against him and pushed her long hair to one side. "Let's not talk about this right now," he murmured, pressing little kisses onto her neck as if to continue what had started hours before.

"Mm," she sighed, tilting to give him more access. She had warmed again. Heat radiated from within her, sparking with anticipation. But a new thought had pushed in next to her nagging anxieties. If Inniq can't set a snare, how could he have caught the fowl that ended with his scars?