The brazier in the tent had long burned out, leaving only the last scarlet embers flickering stubbornly in the darkness.
A chill seeped quietly through the cracks of the heavy elephant-hide tent but could not intrude on 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 "sleeping" very deeply.
In his arms, Ygritte, the little wildcat who had been baring her claws and wanting to trample the world underfoot during the day, was now as quiet as a cub nestled by a fire.
Suddenly, those long eyelashes trembled gently like butterfly wings.
Ygritte opened her eyes slowly.
Those blue eyes, still clear in the darkness, held not a trace of grogginess but were terrifyingly alert.
She lay motionless, listening to Lynn's steady heartbeat.
Thump, thump, thump.
Each beat was like a war drum striking deep in her soul.
Heavy, powerful.
Making Ygritte feel unprecedentedly reassured.
Is he asleep?
He's asleep!
This realization was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, rippling circles in Ygritte's heart.
Her courage grew with those ripples, circle by circle.
Ygritte lifted her head carefully from the crook of Lynn's arm.
The movement was so gentle, as if she didn't want to disturb a falling snowflake.
Her fiery red hair cascaded down like a waterfall; a few mischievous strands fell, gently tickling Lynn's cheek.
Lynn's brow twitched slightly.
Ygritte's heart leaped into her throat instantly, her whole body freezing.
However, Lynn just turned over, changing to a lying-flat position, his breathing remaining steady.
Ygritte let out a long sigh of relief.
In the darkness, the corners of Ygritte's mouth curled up uncontrollably, revealing a smile as sly as a little fox.
She propped herself up, like a she-wolf surveying her territory in the night, looking down at this man who belonged to her.
Lynn's facial contours appeared even deeper in the dim shadows.
High nose bridge, tight lips.
Even in sleep, he carried an inviolable majesty.
Really inviolable?
Ygritte watched somewhat entranced.
She remembered just now.
It was like she had a dream.
That cold, despairing dream full of wind, snow, and loneliness.
And remembered that ball of light that saved her from endless darkness and cold.
It was Lynn.
From beginning to end, it was him.
An indescribable impulse, mixed with love, possession, and gratitude, grew wildly in her heart, burning her mouth dry.
Ygritte leaned down, her warm breath gently spraying on Lynn's ear, as if testing something.
She blew gently.
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 almost imperceptibly for an instant, but quickly relaxed.
Ygritte didn't notice.
She only felt that this man's taste was sweeter than the fattest venison she had ever eaten.
She wasn't satisfied with this.
Her hand, calloused from years of drawing bows, began to roam somewhat restlessly over Lynn's body.
Lynn felt that touch, completely different from the silk-smooth hands of southern noble ladies.
Carrying a trace of roughness, a trace of wildness.
Every stroke felt like branding her mark on his body in the most primitive way.
Ygritte stroked Lynn's solid chest, feeling the explosive power hidden beneath.
She traced his firm abs, the clear contours making her want to outline them with her fingertips again and again.
In the Free Folk's view, if you like something, snatch it, possess it.
She couldn't snatch that golden-haired princess's status, nor that little she-wolf's betrothal.
But now, in this tent belonging only to the two of them, on this night Lynn was "unaware" of.
She could "steal."
She wanted to make this man completely hers in her own way.
Lynn's body temperature began to rise, his breathing becoming somewhat rapid.
Ygritte thought he was having a dream, and her smile deepened.
Her movements became bolder, like a child tasting honey for the first time, greedily demanding more.
Her kiss went from his earlobe, all the way down, tracing his defined jawline, landing on his rolling Adam's apple.
That kiss carried a trace of inexperience, a trace of clumsiness, yet was full of unquestionable possessiveness.
"You are mine..."
Ygritte pressed her cheek against Lynn's chest.
Listening to that increasingly rapid heartbeat, she murmured over and over in a voice only she could hear.
"Can only be mine..."
Lynn kept his eyes tightly closed, brows slightly furrowed, as if trapped in some intense dream.
Only he knew what sweet torture he was enduring at this moment.
This little wildcat was simply playing with fire!
He could clearly feel every inch of her curves.
Could smell that unique scent mixed with pine needles and bonfire in her hair.
Could feel even more her heart, unreservedly and completely open to him.
He could have "woken up" immediately, then turned the tables, letting Ygritte understand what true "control" was.
But he didn't.
He chose to continue "sleeping."
He wanted to let this proud, awkward, sharp-tongued but soft-hearted little wildcat think all this was just her own little secret.
Indulge, acquiesce.
The night was still long.
Ygritte's "theft" became increasingly unscrupulous.
Like a child who got a beloved toy, she explored tirelessly.
She began to be unsatisfied with Lynn's chest and abs, turning toward...
Until the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon.
A glimmer of light penetrated through the tent's cracks, illuminating the messy furs inside.
Ygritte was like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, jolting abruptly.
Seeing the light seeping in from outside, a flash of panic crossed her face.
Daybreak!
How did it come so fast!
Ygritte climbed off Lynn quickly, almost scrambling on hands and knees.
Her movements were as agile as a startled snow hare.
She retreated to the other side of the bed at maximum speed and wrapped herself tightly in the fur blanket, exposing only a mess of fiery red hair.
Then, she turned her back to Lynn and began to feign sleep.
After a while.
Ygritte let out an exaggerated yawn, stretching greatly, as if she had just woken from a deep sleep.
"Damn it... is it morning?"
She rubbed her eyes, muttering, her voice carrying its usual roughness.
She stole a glance at Lynn beside her.
Lynn had also "just woken up," seemingly unaware of everything that happened last night.
Ygritte's heart finally settled back into her chest.
She threw off the blanket, walked off the bed naked carelessly in front of Lynn, and began to put on her familiar leather armor.
Throughout the process, she deliberately avoided looking at Lynn again.
As if one more look would expose her guilty conscience.
Lynn watched with interest for a while.
She really didn't have hair down there...
When the two walked out of the tent one after another, the camp had awakened.
Wildlings were gathered around newly lit bonfires, laughing loudly, sharing the white bread sent by House Lannister.
The air was filled with the aroma of roast meat and ale.
Myrcella had risen long ago.
She stood not far away, still wrapped in Lynn's thick bearskin cloak.
Morning sunlight spilled on her golden hair, shrouding her in a soft halo.
She seemed out of place in this rough and savage environment.
Like a golden rose left on the ice, beautiful, fragile, yet carrying a surprising resilience.
Seeing Lynn and Ygritte walk out of the same tent, no ripple appeared in Myrcella's green eyes.
She just bowed slightly, executing an impeccable curtsy.
"Lord Lynn."
Her voice was like a morning stream, cool and pleasant.
Ygritte's steps paused instinctively.
She looked at this golden-haired princess before her.
Looking at her innate nobility and composure, then thinking of her own... unpresentable "theft" last night.
An inexplicable emotion welled up from her heart.
That emotion was complex.
There was showing off, there was smugness.
But more than that, was a... guilt she couldn't quite explain herself?
As if she had stolen something from Myrcella that should have belonged to her.
Ygritte pouted, forcibly suppressing that undue emotion.
She raised her chin at Myrcella.
Neither taunting as usual nor greeting.
Just a soft snort, then she walked straight toward the group of wildling warriors distributing weapons.
She was going to start fulfilling her duty as the "rebel leader."