Tormund and Davos barely make it five yards away from Commander Snow’s tent when they hear raised voices coming from inside. Sansa’s, high-pitched and exasperated, cuts through the cold air like a wolf snarl, and Jon’s strained and combative one is one Tormund thought Jon only used in battle.
“Didn’t take them long to get back to their old sibling ways,” Davos observes.
Tormund cocks an eyebrow. “Sibling ways? The way they’re howling, they sound more like a husband and wife that have been married far too long.”
Davos looks at him, horrified. Tormund throws back his head and laughs.