Her brother, hale and hearty, clad in his black armour, stood on the snowy ground. The black cloak billowed from a gust of wind, and the emblazoned direwolf head fluttered. Behind him, the enormous form of Winter was looming in the darkness. Maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her, but the dragon seemed slightly larger than before. She wanted to go and hug her brother, but a sideway glance showed her that the courtyard was quickly filling up with people, including their southern guests. Arya herself was a few yards behind, panting for breath heavily.