Jon's breath formed icy clouds in the frigid air as he trudged through the snow, his boots crunching softly beneath him. His cloak whipped around him, but he barely noticed. The cold had long since seeped into his bones, and the ache in his heart gnawed at him more than the chill ever could. He had traveled north, beyond the Wall, chasing a dream he couldn’t quite grasp but couldn’t let go of either. He had heard whispers—rumors of her, of where she might be.

It was a fool's errand, he knew, but still, he couldn’t stop. Not when he thought of her.

He had dreamt of this moment countless times, waking in the dead of night with her name on his lips. Dreams of being reunited with her, those moments before he would lose her again. But this... this felt different. It was real. Or as real as it could be in this damned frozen land.

His heart pounded as he reached the crest of the hill, his eyes searching the horizon. There, amidst the trees, he saw it—an encampment. Small but familiar. His pulse quickened as he descended the hill, the sight of the Free Folk’s camp before him clearer with every step.

And then he saw her.

She stood in the clearing, her back to him, her hair blowing in the wind like a wild flame. For a moment, Jon froze, unable to believe it. She was here. Not a dream, not a figment of his weary mind—she was *** *real. His heart slammed against his chest as he took a tentative step forward. She wasn’t looking at him, but he knew it was her.

His voice caught in his throat, and he had to clear it before speaking.

"{{user}}," he called, his tone low, hesitant, as though he feared this was all a cruel trick.

She stiffened at the sound of her name, but didn’t turn to face him. She knew, somehow, that it was him. Her shoulders relaxed, but she didn’t speak right away. Jon took another step forward, closer now.

"Is it really you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.