The past week's frustration and anger, the weight of all that had gone unsaid and seemed to then be never said aloud, faded in the face of the cold within and without.

The Huntsman let it all out with a breath, reaching out a hand to pat the other man's shoulder with a shake of his head. "I'm not looking to pick a fight, I know better than most what she's put you and Snow through." He drew in a breath through his nose and let the cold settle in his lungs, "But where it was her orders, her will, it was my hand. My sword. My name people whispered with fear when I stepped into their villages and demanded her tribute." His lips quirked as he made a stab at a weak joke, "I'd say I have to live with that -- but I guess not."