Jon warily stepped away from the heart tree, feeling tired. He had underestimated his body; his legs had taken a scant three weeks to heal fully. But even in his best condition, diving into the weirwood was incredibly straining. Nearby, Winter was lying lazily in the snow amidst the largest clearing while watching him protectively with his dark, lidded eyes. His familiar had felled a few trees to fit there. Soon, he would have to start planning a lair for Winter.