“The wildlings seemed to think Ygritte a great beauty because of her hair; red hair was rare among the free folk, and those who had it were said to be kissed by fire, which was supposed to be lucky.”
You were wrong to love her, a voice whispered. You were wrong to leave her, a different voice insisted.
It was easy to forget sometimes, when they were laughing together, or kissing. But then one of them would say something, or do something, and he would suddenly be reminded of the wall between their worlds.
I’ve waited my whole life to see the world from out there.