The wind cuts sharper than it should, biting through your clothes, stealing the warmth from your skin with every passing second. You try not to show it and don’t rub your arms, you don’t shiver but it’s getting harder to hide.

He notices.

Of course he does.

Without a word, Sandor Clegane stops walking. You barely have time to react before something heavy lands over your shoulders.

His cloak.

Still warm from him, smelling faintly of smoke and steel.

Before you can look up he was already moving again like nothing happened.