i. The wind howls and shakes the skins at the entrance, Lyanna burrows deeper into Jon, her back against his front, and feels her cheeks flush as flesh touches flesh. She lifts her head gingerly and over her shoulder looks to the entrance. There is nothing to be seen. The young woman shakes her head. 'Tis folly. Jon has kept them safe up to now and he will continue to do so. "Just the wind," she whispers against his skin, settling down once more. There is something about the days becoming shorter and the weather colder and colder still.

She must have disturbed her partner somehow, for Jon wakes with a groan, the arm wrapped around her coiling harder. "Why do you not sleep?" he asks, voice heavy still.

"Something woke me," Lyanna replies, shifting, trying to draw herself away. His snarl stops her sort and her progress is unravelled by a tug of his arm. Pressed even tighter against him, Lyanna shudders. His hand trails down her back. "I shall find sleep again."

"You shall," Jon agrees. He slips inside of her like a sword finding sheath. Lyanna gives a whimper, of pain or pleasure, it is unclear. Jon other arm wraps around her too, but his fingers come up to the swell of her breast. "Does the cold bother you?"

"Nay." And then he starts moving against her. How can she be cold when she sleeps with her body glued to his? He is much like a furnace, forever warm, hot underneath her fingertips, against her skin. Now his heat surges through her. "One day we'll melt the snow," she breaths out.

Smooth lips press against her neck and shoulder. He quickens his pace, angling her head to reach her lips. "So long as it is you and I."

ii. Occasional clashes come to pass among the Wildlings. Lyanna has learned that for the much part they are content to keep to their borders, but sometimes they raid on neighbours. None think too harshly on it. It is the way of things.

She washes the wound on Jon's back with care as she stretches against the furs. "Woman, it is nothing to be worried over." He says he's had worse. To Lyanna it doesn't signify. "You cry over the likes of this cut and you'll make me look weak."

The cut, as he refers to it, is a long slash against his back. It is not a simple graze, having some depth to it. "I am not crying," she protests, pressing the cloth a bit too hard against his back. She doesn't apologise. Jon hisses in discomfort, but more to chide her than to express pain. "I only want you to be well."

iii. It is the soft cry that alerts Lyanna of the intruder. The sound is weak and shrill. Lyanna takes a dagger and heads to the back of the hut. She keeps the weapon raised, prepared to strike at the first sign of danger. She does not expect what she finds.

There, underneath a clump of straw is a white ball of fur. It snarls at her approach, small red eyes taking her in. Lyanna crouches to the ground. A wolf. Or something the like. It is so small. Lyanna crouches and places the dagger on the ground. She snaps forward and catches the beast between her palms. It squirms against her hold and it takes settling the animal to her chest to obtain its cooperation. "All is well, little one, I shan't hurt you." She wonders briefly where the mother is. There are specks of dries blood on the fur, so Lyanna think the she-wolf is long gone at any rate. "I'll care for you."

She brings the wolf into her house. Jon is yet at the hunt. He'll be back later, but by then Lyanna hopes the guest will have settled in. She searches for the milk and fills a small bowl of it. The poor darling must be hungry. Kneeling she places the animal on her lap. A boy, she notices. He sniffles at the food, dips his tongue in to taste and after deeming it appropriate drinks his fill. Lyanna pates the white fur of his back.

iv. "You are mad," Jon accuses her when he find her with the beast on her lap. Lyanna circles her hands protectively around the pup. Her glare doesn't seem to affect Jon much. "You will kill us."

"Not if we raise him right." Her eyes beg him to reconsider. "Please, Jon. He is just a pup. He'll die out there if we send him away."

Jon grumbles. His eyes narrow at the red-stare of the wolf. How is it that this woman has him bending over to please her? "Fine. But at the first sign if trouble, I'm taking its head off."

"It is a he." Lyanna ruffles the fur on the little beast and Jon let out a small growl. "You should name him." Her suggestion is met with resistance. Later, the pup crawl from the corner under the covers and Jon wakes with a curse upon his lips. The ball of fur is content where it sits. "Curse you and your stupid pet," Jon mumbles, his eyes throwing danger to Lyanna's sleeping face.

v. Cut flesh and impossibly blue eyes. Lyanna takes in the sight of a man who had disappeared days ago. "Vargho," she says, now remembering his name. "We were worried for you." He does not reply, staring straight ahead. "Vargho," Lyanna tries again, stepping closer to him.

Unexpectedly the man jumps at her, thick fingers finding her neck and squeezing. She tries to scream but it's already too late. All she manages to do is chokes out a weak sound. Lyanna pushes against the man. One hand searches for the dagger she carries with her. The lack of air makes her hazy. Her small hand grips the cool metal and she brings it, with all the force she can muster, down upon Vargho's head. It slashes through the skin and bone breaks, yet he does not let go.

A growl comes from behind her, and suddenly she's on the ground, free. Ghost has jumped upon the foul creature, fangs tearing into him. Jon yells something and the direwolf draws back. Lyanna is picked up and she can make out the men screaming fire.

"And you did not want him," Lyanna speaks quietly. "I told you we should keep him." Ghost bounds up to them, sniffing at Jon's legs.

Jon simply clutches her tighter to his chest, eyes checking her for wounds. "He has his uses," the man admits when her stare does not go away from him. Then he looks to Ghost. "Well done, boy." His attention snaps back to his woman. "Can you walk?"

Nodding solemnly, Lyanna waits for him to place her back on her feet. "I am fine. You go here just in time." Shaken. Scared. And sore-throated. Otherwise she is fine. "What was that?"

"Silly summer child," Jon scoffs. "This is why you should have never left that damned wall." Alas his hands push her into a scorching kiss. Lyanna shudders helplessly. "Don't leave my side," he tells her seriously. Turning to the people that have gathered, Jon gives order that they are to move southwards.