The small cabin Reynolds had spotted earlier that evening was little more than a weathered shelter, its roof sagging and the walls patched with uneven boards. Still, it offered some protection from the relentless cold and wind, and for that, they were grateful. Ghost curled near the door, his ears twitching as he kept watch, while Dream sat perched on a rickety chair, her green eyes half-closed but alert.

Reynolds had fallen asleep quickly, exhaustion overtaking him as soon as his head hit the bundle of furs he'd laid out on the floor. His steady breathing filled the room, a stark contrast to the uneasy quiet that lingered between Jon and Katrina.

Jon sat near the hearth, tending to the fire. The flames flickered and danced, casting a warm glow over his face and the scarred surface of Longclaw, which rested beside him. Katrina sat across from him, her golden eyes fixed on the fire, her thoughts distant. She hadn't spoken much since they'd stopped, her usual sharp wit replaced with a quiet introspection.

"You're quiet," Jon said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, steady, the kind of voice that grounded her when everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.

Katrina glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "You keep saying that, Snow. Starting to think you prefer me loud."

Jon chuckled softly, poking at the fire with a stick. "Maybe. At least then I know what's on your mind."

Katrina leaned back, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "What's on my mind?" she repeated, her tone teasing but tinged with something heavier. "You sure you want to know?"

Jon set the stick aside, his dark eyes meeting hers. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't."

She hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. "I was just thinking about him. About Reynolds. He's… not what I expected."

"Neither are you," Jon said simply.

Katrina raised an eyebrow, her smirk returning. "Is that your way of saying I'm unpredictable?"

"Something like that," Jon replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the fire crackling softly between them. Then Katrina leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "You were good with him today," she said, her voice quieter now. "Reynolds, I mean. You could've grilled him harder, pushed him to explain himself, but you didn't."

Jon shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "He's lost, like we all are in one way or another. I know what it's like to carry something you don't fully understand."

Katrina studied him, her golden eyes softening. "You're too good for this world, you know that?"

Jon chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know about that."

"I do," Katrina said firmly. Her voice carried a weight that made Jon look up, his dark eyes meeting hers again. "You've stood by me through all of this—things you didn't have to face. Most people would've walked away by now."

"I'm not most people," Jon said, his voice steady but low.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken until now. Katrina's heart pounded in her chest, her golden eyes flicking to the fire before returning to Jon. "No, you're not."

Jon shifted, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the small lines of worry etched into his features. "Katrina… I meant what I said earlier. I thought I was going to lose you back there. When you touched that altar…"

She looked away, her fingers tightening around the blanket. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's not about being scared," Jon said, his voice softening. "It's about losing someone I—" He hesitated, his dark eyes searching hers. "Someone I care about."

Katrina's breath hitched, her golden eyes locking onto his. The room felt warmer suddenly, the fire between them nothing compared to the heat that surged in her chest. "Jon…"

Before she could finish, Jon leaned closer, closing the space between them. His hand brushed against her cheek, calloused and warm, as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was slow and tender, filled with unspoken promises and lingering fear.

Katrina responded without hesitation, her hands reaching for him, pulling him closer. The blanket slipped from her shoulders, forgotten, as the firelight bathed them both in its golden glow. The world outside the cabin ceased to exist—there was only him, only this.

Jon positioned himself above Katrina, his eyes locked onto hers with a deep intensity. He could see the passion burning within her, and it only fueled his own arousal. Slowly, he began to enter her, his movements gentle at first but growing more insistent as their bodies began to meld together.

Katrina's hands wrapped around Jon's back, pulling him closer as she arched her hips to meet his thrusts. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of sweat and desire. Each movement was a testament to their connection, a physical manifestation of the emotions that bound them together.

As Jon delved deeper into Katrina, their breathing became more ragged. The room around them melted away, leaving only the sensation of skin against skin, heart against heart. It was just them now, suspended in a world of pure sensation.

When they finally pulled apart, Jon rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. "I meant it," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. Not now, not ever."

Katrina closed her eyes, letting his words settle over her like a balm. "I know," she murmured. "And I won't let you."

They stayed like that for a while, the fire crackling softly beside them, its warmth a mirror of the quiet, fragile connection they'd found in each other. For the first time in a long time, the shadows felt a little less oppressive, the weight of their burdens a little lighter.

And though the night still carried its dangers, for this moment, they were just Jon and Katrina—two people finding solace in a world that seemed intent on tearing them apart.