[ Reaching back, Alayne recalls how Sansa Stark had once held onto the memory of the yard at Winterfell. Quite often the young lady was ensconced within the hold's walls whenever her brothers took to practice, but there had been times when Sansa and her dear friend Jeyne Poole would abandon their sewing to steal giggling glances and whisper gossip from the perch of a high tower window. In Sansa's memories Bran had been a climber — quick and nimble as a cat, not strong and solid like a bull — and so Alayne is left to wonder how well the exercise would now suit him. Would he grow frustrated, discouraged? Would his brow pinch that sullen way which Sansa had once known and which Alayne can now recognize? ] Is it dangerous? Can you teach him?

[ Having garnered Tommy's silent approval, Alayne closes the container again and sets it aside before fetching a single fruit with intention of paring it down into smaller pieces to be shared between them. He looks at him with her bright, curious eyes. ] Will you tell me about your home, Tommy? I'd like very much to hear of it. Is it quite different than here?