She always had a knack for surviving, even in circumstances that might have seemed impossible. She was a spearwife, kissed by fire, lucky. Death didn’t fear her but she wouldn’t kneel to it any more than she would a lord. An arrow wouldn’t kill her, even if it tried to, she had enough fight in her to survive. Neither would the white walkers, although the encounters she had with them managed to come close. The problem with the white walkers had only become more and more pressing but she was not alone, she was among other strong Free Folk and none of them intended to join the Night Kings army. So they survived.
She hadn’t been in Hardhome when the massacre took place but the news had traveled to her. She was no coward but no fool either, her and a few of her friends had stuck together and been careful to avoid the dead wherever they could. She thought it might have been better if she climbed the wall again, it had been an idea they’d tossed around multiple times. They might actually survive if they could travel further south. Time was of the essence, however; and by the time they agreed it was for the best, the Night Kings army had grown in numbers and were impossible to avoid during any such travels. They were fighters though like all of the Free Folk were, and they knew the lands and how to survive them.
After the Long Night, she had returned with the others to Hardhome and found they weren’t the only ones there. The village was in ruins but they worked together and over several months had rebuilt it, Free Folk returned to it, and it was once again a safe place. Ygritte made her home there, lived normally compared to her time with Mance Raider, or her time on the run from White Walkers. For the first time in years, her life was by comparison, peaceful. She fished in the mornings and drank with her friends, managed to get into a few fights, her life had become what it was before she was ever a spearwife. Still, that wasn’t to say she was any less fierce.
She had been in her cabin when she heard through the thing walls, some sort of commotion from outside. She stood quickly and grabbed her arrows and satchel, preparing for the worst. The moment she stepped out she could see them. More of her own kind but what caused the most commotion were the men in black. Crows. She clenched her jaw. She saw him. He looked the same as when she had met him, she couldn’t help but think.
“You’re brave to come this far north, Jon Snow.” She said in a low voice, glaring furiously at him. “A crow walkin’ in ‘appily with all these Free Folk? After Castle Black?” She said a bit louder. While many of the Wildlings had grown less wary of Crows after all Jon Snow had done for them, Ygritte had not. She had trusted him, he had betrayed it and left her burned and bitter towards him and any other kneeler or crow. She couldn’t kill him as much as she wanted to. She wished she had it in her. Perhaps she did after all of this time. With that thought in mind in a flash she had her bow and arrow pointed at him, the string drawn back. “Three arrows weren’t enough for ya’, crow?”
