For her, it's only been days. For her, the pain in her chest is still there, even despite the wound completely healed. That's magic she can't explain and no one else seems to be able to either. Him? Ygritte remembers the bird attacking him the day Jon betrayed her and the rest of the Wildlings and the scar it left behind. But his face is older, hair longer even though it's pulled back. His eyes look tired.

So many feelings sweep through her, words that somehow seem like a dream now still echo through her head.

You're mine, as I am yours. If we die, we die. But first, we'll live.

In an effort to chase the words away, Ygritte looks down, brow pinching deeply to try and chase back the intense desire to strike him for all that he's done to her and the Free Folk. Yet, he seems to want to tell her something. Or maybe that's her own fool's wish. Maybe he wants to hurt her again.

"Yeah, I guess there would be," she answers, nodding. "You were right, weren't ya. We lost, just like you said we would. An' after that? You go back to your castles an' your towers?"