The biting winds howled outside the makeshift shelter, their icy tendrils clawing through every crack and seam. The campfires were too few and scattered to warm everyone, so Robb had chosen this small, dilapidated hunting lodge for the two of you. Snow piled high against its walls, but at least the roof held steady against the storm.

Inside, the air was still cold, though the fire Robb had built crackled brightly, casting long, flickering shadows against the wooden walls. You sat near the hearth, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying not to let the trembling in your hands show.

Robb knelt beside the flames, his features bathed in their golden light. His auburn hair looked like fire itself, his sharp profile softened by the faint smile he offered as he glanced your way. But his eyes betrayed his worry.

“You’re shivering,” he murmured, rising to his feet and crossing the room in a few easy strides. Without hesitation, he unclasped his cloak, a heavy wolf-pelt that smelled faintly of the frost-laden air outside.