How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart, you begin to understand: there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep.
The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same.
All the stags will bow, all the wolves will bow, the bears in the North and the foxes of the South, all the birds in the sky and the beasts in the sea. They will all come to you, little lion, to rest a crown upon your head.