You’re like one of those birds from the Summer Isles, aren’t you? Apretty little talking bird, repeating all the pretty little words they taught you to recite. // The Hound is right…I am only a little bird, repeating the words they taught me.
Sansa quailed. Now, she told herself, I must do it now. Gods give me courage. She took one step, then another. Lords and knights stepped aside silently to let her pass, and she felt the weight of their eyes on her. I must be as strong as my lady mother. “Your Grace,” she called out in a soft, tremulous voice.