The snow fell and the castle rose. It was only a castle when she began, but before very long Sansa knew it was Winterfell. Soon her gloves and her boots were crusty white, her hands were tingling, and her feet were soaked and cold, but she did not care. The castle was all that mattered.
Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang
and it seemed as though some very pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell,
instead of only two… two where they had once been six. Do they miss
their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady’s Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?