It's been a while since Bran and Jojen became best friends.

A lot of long walks and shared dreams can transform two boys into inseparable souls.

The rain started falling minutes ago and the little lords, now princes, were safe under simple tents that Hodor and Osha made for them when the sky seemed dark enough to provide rain.

After making the tent, they thought right to look for paths to follow the next days. And Meera said this was the perfect weather to hunt, so she took Shaggydog with her and went out for food. Rickon just went to sleep in a tent a few meters away from bran's.

It was just him and Jojen, he didn't call him 'officially' his best friend but there was no need of it, everyone notice how connected they were, "they even share dreams" they thought.

Bran tried to reach a rock to throw away but it wasn't a rock, it was something with spines, Bran's hand started to bleed and Jojen just stared there, obviously not knowing what to do.

"Do something" said Bran impatiently.

"What should I do?" Replied Jojen and Bran wasn't that hurt because he twisted a little smile into his mouth.

"You really don't know what to do, isn't it?" Said Bran, it sounded more like a smirk than a question.

"I'm a greenseer not a healer" Jojen was frustrated but at the same time relived that bran could talk with all that blood running from his hand.

"Take that rag and try to cover my wound with it" Bran sounded more reassured now and Jojen believed he was really trying to care about his own wound, so he went for the rag and did as Bran instructed. Just a minute passed and Bran's hand was totally covered by the rag and the seer knew that he was useless holding his hand like that, but neither both took the hand away.

They just stood there, with a hand feeling more than useless because the other was really busy right now. Bran thought nothing as if that touch was important enough to wash away all his worries and leave calm, peace, a feeling now foreign for him.

Jojen in contrast, thought a lot as a full tension came to him, what would his father think?

"I'm back!" It was Meera. Before she could reach them, they already had their hands where they should have. She was carrying two squirrels and she looked pretty tired, anyway, she was smiling because of the haunt. "A rare beauty" Bran used to think.

Time on that day passed, Hodor and Osha returned hours later and Rickon woke up almost at the same time.

Bran had nothing better to do than think, he used think a lot, about his family, about the war, about anything, but the only thing he could think right now was of Jojen Reed. He thought of his dark green eyes and how much brighter they looked under sunshine, he thought about his blondish hair and how it fell from the top of his head, he even thought about his deep, creepy voice- and how the hell he got shivers by only thinking?

Jojen to clear his mind so they could have the greenseer dreams again, but Jojen couldn't be sure if he was seeing what to do or if he was dreaming what his mind, and probably him, wanted.

Everything was Bran.

Every single dream, every single second was about him, about his courage and his soft like silk hair. Was he blushing?