The cold northern wind howled through the camp, but you barely noticed it. Your heart pounded in your chest as you spotted him, his broad frame towering over the others, his wild red beard as untamed as ever.

Tormund.

Your Tormund.

Before he could react, you were already running, launching yourself into his arms. He caught you with ease, his laughter booming as you wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Gods, woman, I nearly lost my breath!” he bellowed, but his grip tightened around you, his hands warm even through the layers of fur and leather.

“You better not,” you murmured, burying your face in his thick beard, inhaling the scent of snow and battle and home.

Tormund pulled back just enough to look at you, his bright blue eyes crinkling at the edges. “You missed me, then?” he teased, though his voice was rough with emotion.