The brazier in the tent had long since burned out, leaving only the last trace of crimson embers stubbornly flickering in the darkness.
The cold seeped quietly through the gaps in the thick elephant hide tent, yet it could not disturb the interwoven warmth on the bed.
Lynn's breathing was steady and long, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath.
He seemed to be in a deep "sleep."
Ygritte in his arms, the little wildcat who had been baring her fangs and claws earlier in the day, wishing to trample the whole world under her feet, was now as quiet as a cub nestled by a fire.
Suddenly, her long eyelashes fluttered gently, like butterfly wings.
Ygritte slowly opened her eyes.
Those blue eyes, still clear in the darkness, showed no trace of sleepiness, but rather an alarming wakefulness.
She lay motionless, listening to Lynn's steady heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump.
Each beat was like a war drum echoing deep within her soul.
Heavy, powerful.
It made Ygritte feel a sense of security she had never experienced before.
He's asleep?
He's asleep!
This realization, like a stone dropped into a calm lake, sent ripples through Ygritte's heart.
Her courage grew with those ripples, circle by circle.
Ygritte carefully lifted her head from Lynn's arm.
The movement was as gentle as if she didn't want to disturb a falling snowflake.
Her fiery red hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and a few playful strands fell, gently tickling Lynn's cheek.
Lynn's eyebrows twitched slightly.
Ygritte's heart instantly leaped to her throat, and her entire body froze.
However, Lynn merely rolled over, settling onto his back, his breathing still steady.
Ygritte let out a long sigh of relief.
In the darkness, Ygritte's lips curled upwards uncontrollably, revealing a cunning smile like a little fox.
She propped herself up, like a she-wolf patrolling her territory in the night, looking down at this man who belonged to her.
Lynn's facial contours appeared even more profound in the dim shadows.
His nose bridge was high, his lips tightly pressed.
Even in his sleep, he carried an inviolable majesty.
Truly inviolable?
Ygritte gazed at him, somewhat entranced.
She remembered what had just happened.
She felt as if she had been in a dream.
That cold, despairing dream, full of wind, snow, and loneliness.
She also remembered the light that had rescued her from endless darkness and cold.
It was Lynn.
From beginning to end, it was him.
An indescribable impulse, mixed with affection, possessiveness, and gratitude, surged wildly within her, making her parched.
Ygritte leaned down, her warm breath gently fanning Lynn's earlobe, as if testing something.
She blew a puff of air.
Lynn still didn't react.
Ygritte grew bolder.
She extended the tip of her tongue, like a curious kitten, gently, tentatively approaching Lynn's earlobe.
Lynn's body tensed imperceptibly for a moment, but quickly relaxed again.
Ygritte didn't notice.
She only felt that this man's scent was sweeter than the fattest venison she had ever eaten.
She was not satisfied with this.
Her hands, calloused from years of drawing a bow, began to wander restlessly over Lynn's body.
Lynn felt that the touch was completely different from the silky smooth hands of a Southern noble lady.
It carried a hint of roughness, a hint of wildness.
Each stroke was like branding his body with her mark in the most primitive way.
Ygritte caressed Lynn's firm chest, feeling the explosive power hidden beneath his physique.
She traced his solid abdominal muscles, their clear outline making her unable to resist outlining them again and again with her fingertips.
In the Free Folk's beliefs, if you like something, you must seize it, possess it.
She couldn't seize the identity of that golden-haired princess, nor could she seize the betrothal of that little she-wolf.
But now, in this tent that belonged only to the two of them, on this night when Lynn was "unaware."
She could "steal."
She would use her own methods to completely make this man hers.
Lynn's body began to warm, and his breathing became somewhat hurried.
Ygritte thought he was having some kind of dream, and the smile on her lips deepened.
Her actions became increasingly bold, like a child tasting honey for the first time, greedily demanding more.
Her kisses traveled from his earlobe, downwards, tracing his defined jawline, and landing on his bobbing Adam's apple.
The kisses carried a hint of awkwardness, a touch of clumsiness, yet they were full of undeniable possessiveness.
"You are mine..."
Ygritte pressed her cheek against Lynn's chest.
She listened to his increasingly rapid heartbeat, whispering over and over again in a voice only she could hear.
"Only mine..."
Lynn kept his eyes tightly shut, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he was caught in some intense dream.
Only he knew the sweet torment he was currently experiencing.
This little wildcat was practically playing with fire!
He could clearly feel every curve of her body.
He could smell the unique scent of pine needles and campfire in her hair.
And he could feel her unreserved heart, completely open to him.
He could have "woken up" immediately, then turned the tables and made Ygritte understand what true "control" was.
But he didn't.
He chose to continue his "sleep."
He wanted this proud, awkward, tough-talking but soft-hearted little wildcat to believe that all of this was just her own little secret.
Indulge her, permit her.
The night was still long.
Ygritte's "theft" became increasingly brazen.
Like a child who had found a beloved toy, she explored tirelessly.
She began to no longer be satisfied with Lynn's chest and abs, and turned to... until the first hint of dawn appeared on the horizon.
A sliver of light seeped through a gap in the tent, illuminating the scattered furs inside.
Ygritte suddenly jolted, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
She looked at the light coming in from outside, a flicker of panic crossing her face.
It's dawn!
How did it get so bright so fast!
Ygritte quickly, one might even say scrambling, climbed off Lynn's body.
Her movements were as agile as a startled snow rabbit.
She retreated to the other side of the bed at top speed, wrapping herself tightly in a fur blanket, revealing only a mess of fiery red hair.
Then, she turned her back to Lynn and began to feign sleep.
After a while longer.
Ygritte let out an exaggerated yawn and stretched widely, as if she had just woken from a deep sleep.
"Damn it... is it morning?"
She rubbed her eyes and mumbled, her voice carrying its usual roughness.
She secretly glanced at Lynn beside her.
Lynn was also "just waking up," seemingly oblivious to everything that had happened last night.
Ygritte's heart finally settled back into her chest.
She threw off the blanket and, in front of Lynn, casually stepped off the bed naked, beginning to put on her familiar leather armor.
Throughout the entire process, she deliberately avoided looking at Lynn again.
As if one more glance would expose her guilt.
Lynn observed for a while with interest.
She really didn't have any body hair... When the two walked out of the tent one after another, the camp had also awakened.
The Free Folk were gathered around the newly lit bonfire, laughing loudly and sharing the white bread sent by House Lannister.
The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and the fragrance of ale.
Myrcella had already risen.
She stood not far away, still wrapped in Lynn's thick bearskin cloak.
The morning sun dappled her golden hair, enveloping her in a soft halo.
She seemed out of place in the rough and wild environment around her.
She was like a golden rose left on the ice plains, beautiful, fragile, yet possessing an astonishing resilience.
Seeing Lynn and Ygritte emerge from the same tent, there was no ripple in Myrcella's green eyes.
She merely curtsied slightly, executing an impeccable genuflection.
"Lord Lynn."
Her voice was like a morning stream, cool and melodious.
Ygritte's steps paused instinctively.
She looked at the golden-haired princess before her.
She saw her innate nobility and composure, then thought of her own... undignified "theft" last night.
A strange emotion welled up from the bottom of her heart.
The emotion was complex.
There was boasting, there was triumph.
But more than that, there was a feeling she couldn't even describe herself... guilt?
It was as if she had stolen something from Myrcella that rightfully belonged to Myrcella.
Ygritte pouted, forcibly suppressing that unwelcome emotion.
She tilted her chin at Myrcella.
She neither provoked her as usual nor greeted her.
She just let out a soft huff and walked directly towards the Free Folk warriors who were distributing weapons.
She was about to begin fulfilling her duties as a "rebel leader."
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