The realm weeps. Outside, she stood for a moment amidst the shouts and curses and the creak of wooden wheels as the men broke down the tents and pavilions and loaded the wagons for another day's march. When the distant cheers had faded to silence and the yard was empty at last, Winterfell seemed deserted and dead. The guardsman leaning on the ramparts? Ned saw the man.
She would not speak of Bran, not here, not with these men. Catelyn remembered the direwolf dead in the snow, the broken antler lodged deep in her throat. You are your brother's sister, in truth. I will give you your thousand men.
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