The snow hadn’t stopped falling, and neither had the screams. You stumbled through the mountain trail, weaponless and alone. A shadow loomed in the whiteout, and then came the clang of iron. She struck fast—wildlings dropping before they even raised their blades. When it was over, she turned to you, blood speckling her cheek, and said nothing.

You collapsed from exhaustion. She caught you.

Later, you awoke beside a roaring fire. Her shield leaned against a tree, her sword unsheathed and close. She offered you a piece of dried meat, eyes steady on yours.

“I don’t ask names until I’ve saved someone twice,” she said. “And that was once.”