Hey everyone, a new chapter is here! I was in a GOT mood so thought I would update this wonderful story, it's always so much fun to write. I've edited it while I'm super tired though so hopefully there aren't too many mistakes. I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

Chapter 4

Oren got the fire going, and soon chunks of meat were sizzling over the top of the flames. Jon's stomach rumbled at the smell of the food, grateful that he wasn't having to eat this meal raw. He surreptitiously started rubbing down his aching arm, feeling starting to return to it. He stretched his arm and clenched his fingers, movement returning slowly.

Not saying anything, Tormund held up a chunk of hot meat and Jon, not thinking, simply leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around the meat and Tormund's fingers. Closing his eyes, he sucked and licked Tormund's fingers contentedly before pulling back and chewing the meat. It was delicious and helped to warm his frozen body.

He looked up to find all four men staring at him, Tormund's breathing unsteady, and he flushed crimson at the realisation that he had no reason to eat from Tormund's hands now that he was unbound.

"Sorry!" Jon squeaked and Tormund let out a rumbling noise, eyes never leaving Jon.

When another piece of meat was held out to him Jon made sure to reach out and take it with his hands, eyes avoiding the red-haired wildling. He chewed thoughtfully; his brain busy trying to work out just what on earth was going on with him. He'd never felt the urge to be hand fed before, or to lick anyone's fingers. The cold and general tiredness he was feeling must be affecting him more then he realised he thought, trying to be logical. Jon ate a little more and though the urge to eat from Tormund's hand was nearly overwhelming he refrained from doing so. What must these wildlings think of him.

They kept the small fire going as they settled down to sleep. Once again Tormund pulled Jon into his arms, wrapping arms and legs around the small teen and burying his face in dark curls. Jon squirmed, how on earth was he supposed to sneak away if Tormund was holding him so tightly? He laid still evening out his breathing as he felt the giant behind him slowly start to relax. Jon's not sure how long he waited, to make sure all were asleep, it must've been hours. Eventually he was sure that all were asleep, and he started the arduous process of trying to extricate himself from Tormund. He shifted slightly, pausing after each movement to check that the red head was still asleep. He pushed Tormund's leg off him ever so slowly and then moved his arms until Jon was simply lying beside the other man. He held his breath, waiting. When no cries of outrage rang out, he sat up, creeping as silently as he could, he made his way to the edge of their den. His heart was pounding in his chest, he struggled to keep his breathing steady as he started to crawl out. Cold air hit his face and he felt a moment of relief. He wasn't worried about Ghost, his dire wolf would find him, wherever he ran. His arms were out, and he began to drag the rest of himself out, he had no idea what direction to go, he would just run and get Ghost to lead him back to the Wall after he'd made his escape. He was almost out and was preparing to jump to his feet and make a break for it, when he felt something large, and firm grip his ankle and tug harshly.

Jon's whole body slipped out from underneath him, his head colliding painfully with the ground as he was dragged back down into the makeshift den. All four wildlings were staring at him, and Tormund look livid. Jon groaned as he gripped his throbbing head, he felt warmth trickle down his face and knew that he must be bleeding.

"Just where the fuck did you think you were going, little crow?" Tormund snarled and Jon took a moment to collect his shattered thoughts.

"Needed to take a piss."

"Fucking, liar" Tormund sneered.

Jon's vision blurred and he blinked to try to clear it.

"I don't want to go back!" Jon cried. "Please just let me go."

Birch snorted, "not fucking likely, especially now, it's become a matter of pride, making sure you don't escape."

Jon thought about making another break for it, but he knew it was pointless, he wouldn't even be able to get his head out before he would be dragged back down. Jon felt the fight drain out of him. What was the point, nothing in his life had ever been easy so why should this? He would stay with the wildlings, be sold back to Joffrey where he would no doubt spend the rest of his life in misery. Wanted only by Joffrey because he is a Targaryen, wanted only by these wildlings for the amount he could be sold for. Not wanted at all back at Winterfell.

A large hand gripped his hair harshly, bringing him back to the present.

"Don't fuckin try that again" Tormund said in a deadly whisper and Jon couldn't hold back the painful groan as his sore head was jostled. The hand in his hair gentled slightly and another hand probed lightly at the lump swiftly forming. Both hands disappeared and Jon turned to watch Tormund lean out of their den and scoop up a fistful of nearby snow, compressing it together until it firmed before he pressed it to Jon's aching head.

"Serves you right, fuckin idiot."

Jon didn't respond, letting the cold sooth some of the pain. He shivered and Tormund reached for him again, pulling him close and wrapping arms and legs around Jon again. Jon let the warmth soothe him even as his heart sunk.

He didn't speak again, settling down to sleep, feeling the eyes of all four wildlings watching him as he drifted off.

Ghost whined softly as they crawled out of the den the next morning. Jon gave him a reassuring pat and leant down so Ghost could sniff at his swollen head.

"I'm alright boy" Jon said, trying to be reassuring. A hand gripped his arm firmly and Jon was unsurprised to find Tormund beside him.

"Wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been so stupid and tried to escape."

Jon rolled his eyes, but quickly stopped when it sent pain shooting through his head.

"Yes, imagine trying to escape from people dragging you somewhere you don't want to go, so you can be sold to people you don't want to go back to."

Tormund snorted but continued to grip his arm firmly as they walked; looks like there wouldn't be any breakfast this morning.

The wildlings were alert as they walked, eyes scanning their surroundings, their vigilance making Jon apprehensive.

He was tired and hungry and cold, but he didn't complain, didn't slow down; even as the snow froze his feet and calves. He felt off kilter from the lack of food, the cold and his head wound, he forced himself to focus on the feel of Tormund's hand around his arm. Using it to ground himself as they continued to walk. Just how far were they going anyway?

After what felt like hours and hours they finally stopped, sitting on some boulders as Oren pulled some dried meat from his pack, as well as a few apples. Jon was so hungry he didn't even care what he was eating at this point, shovelling it down quickly.

"We should arrive around this time tomorrow" Birch said.

"Don't tell me you're missing your wife?" Asher teased, wiping his hands on his pants as he finished his food.

"More like she'll be missing me, will probably cut my beard off for being gone so long."

Tormund scoffed, "don't worry, I'm sure she has Acke to warm her bed while you've been gone."

Birch growled at that and lunged forward, knocking Tormund off his rock as the two started wrestling in the snow.

"Take that back!"

Tormund just laughed as the two scuffled on the ground.

"Do wildlings get married?" Jon asked in interest. His knowledge on wildlings was limited.

"Course we fucking do" Birch said gruffly as he pushed Tormund off him. "What, do you think we just go around fucking everything that crosses our path?"

Jon just shrugged, "I hadn't actually thought about it to be honest."

Birch's face cleared a little when he realised that he wasn't being made fun of.

"Wildlings are some of the most loyal people you will ever meet, not like you traitorous scum south of the wall."

Jon thought traitorous scum was taking it a bit far, but he couldn't deny that there did seem to be few men of honour, even around Winterfell.

"What else can you tell me about your people? I know very little."

All four looked surprised at that request.

"What, so you can share our secrets when you go back over the wall?" Birch asked, suspicion written all over his face.

Jon sighed, "like anyone south of the wall would give a shit about your secrets." He didn't bother waiting for a response, turning his head away and focusing on the far-off mountains he could see in the distance.

Jon missed the look they shared as the others settled into silence, which was just fine by Jon, silence he was used to.

They continued walking, the wildlings talking amongst themselves, but Jon tuned them out, his thoughts turning over and over again about just what he was going to do. His stomach twisted, but no matter what way he looked at it he couldn't see an obvious solution.

It was unlikely he would be able to escape the wildlings and even if he did manage to, he had a feeling that Tormund would hunt him to the ends of the world to get him back as a matter of pride. Maybe whatever raven they sent out with their ransom demands wouldn't make it, or it would get intercepted by the wrong people and never reach his uncle or Joffrey. He could always try to escape once he was sent back over the wall, sure he would probably be watched more carefully but he's sure the opportunity would present itself at some point. Maybe he could cut his hair, shave his beard so he looked different, make it harder for them to find him.

He reached up subconsciously and ran his fingers through his hair. He loved his hair, he'd hate to cut it, but he'd do it if it improved his chances of success.

The first sign that anything was wrong was when Ghost dropped back to walk beside Jon, whining loudly and nudging his head quite forcefully into Jon's leg. Jon froze in his tracks, his attention immediately on Ghost. Jon trailed his line of vision, holding his breath as he eyes tried to discern exactly what Ghost had spotted.

The wildlings stopped as he did, noticing Ghost immediately and drawing weapons as they scanned the area. It didn't take long for a sound to reach his ears. A rumbling, grating sound that had the hairs on Jon's neck standing on end.

Jon's heart froze in his chest as a huge white bear pushed its way out of the cover of trees on the edge of the small clearing they were currently walking through. Jon's eyes travelled over the beast, it had to be twice the size of Tormund, with thick shaggy white fur. Its mouth was opened in a snarl as they were spotted. Probably the first decent meal the thing had contemplated in a while.

Jon stood frozen until a large hand gripped his shoulder, and he was shoved behind Tormund, a large dagger pushed into his hands. Jon didn't speak, gripping the dagger so tightly his knuckles cracked, while he swallowed thickly and steeled himself for battle. He took a moment to lament the choices that had led him to his moment, before he was moving forward with the others to meet the bear in its attack.

Everything blurred into a vision or white and noise and fear. Ghost ran behind the bear, biting and savaging the back of its legs but Jon could see that the bites had little effect through the bears think fur. He darted quickly as a large, clawed paw swiped toward them, Tormund, Birch and Oren were darting everywhere, getting in quick sharp stabs wherever they could reach. Asher went for the back of the bears hind legs, like Ghost had done. Lending a hand to the dire wolfs efforts. Jon swiped at another paw that came sailing toward him, ignoring the enraged roar the bear let out as he took another swipe.

Their attacks seemed to do little more than make the bear angrier. It moved forward, quicker than Jon thought a bear should move. The bear lashed out again but this time they all weren't quick enough, Oren getting clawed in the shoulder as he was thrown across the area to land in a pile of snow. They couldn't spare a moment of worry for Oren, not when their own lives were still in such peril.

Jon stabbed quickly into the bears side as he danced away again, weaving under Birch's outstretched arm as he moved. His movements hampered by the amount of warm clothing he was wearing.

A strangled shout reached his ears and he moved quickly to find that the bear had latched on to Tormund's arm, the sharp teeth holding tight as it shook its jaw ferociously and Tormund tried not to have his arm ripped off.

Jon felt a wave of rage wash over him, his hearing going fuzzy as his blood pounded in his head. He renewed his attacks with as much force as he possibly could. Dodging and stabbing, everywhere he could reach. His weak arm ached furiously at the level of exertion, he usually only fought with his right arm, but he wanted to inflict as much pain as he could as quickly as he could in the hope that Tormund would be released. At least holding Tormund seemed to have stopped the bears attacks and Jon was caught by surprise when the bear suddenly dropped to all fours and started making a run back towards the cover of the trees, Tormund still gripped firmly in its mouth.

Jon let out a cry as he chased after the bear. He leapt upon its back, gripping its fur as he stabbed repeatedly, warm drops of blood flecked his face in his frenzy. Quite suddenly the bear dropped to the ground, its mouth releasing Tormund as he now found himself semi crushed under the gigantic beast.

"Tormund!" Jon gasped, racing around and helping to drag the red headed wildling out., Asher and Birth helping while Oren let out a pitiful groan from across the clearing.

Jon leant to examine Tormunds arm, heart beating frantically as he checked for damage. Thankfully it didn't look too bad it was bruised and bloody, large gashes in the flesh but Tormund was already stretching his fingers and rolling his shoulders so it couldn't be too bad.

"Are you ok?" Jon gasped, pushing hair out of Tormund's face as he scanned the other from head to toe. Tormund just grunted as he slowly pushed himself into a sitting position.

"You crazy motherfucker!" Tormund bellowed, causing Jon to nearly jump out of his skin in surprise. Birch, Asher and Oren started laughing from behind him.

"Killed a fuckin' bear! And saved my life" he finished more quietly, pulling Jon into his arms. Jon went limp against the warm chest, exhaustion setting in as the adrenaline faded.

"I'm glad you're OK" Jon whispered, eyes falling shut.

"Better then OK," Tormund said cockily, "I'll have a fierce scar to remember this day."

Jon nodded, not even bothering to try to fight the logic of such a statement. A large hand ran through his hair and Jon subconsciously leaned into the touch. He tried to mumble something, but his words came out garbled and twisted.

"Shh" Tormund hushed him. "Rest, the others will skin and butcher the beast, you've done enough."