The last fortnight in wait of Jon Stark had been stressful and full of worry. It snowed less and less, but it was still cold, and her prospects of leaving Winterfell anytime soon were not good. The rumours about some legendary enemy to the North that Nym had heard did not help to calm her down one bit. She had even considered trying to mount the red drake, but it was always either in places too high to reach or guarded by a dozen men-at-arms. Seven Hells, it took her a while, but Arianne noticed that at least one guardsman was trailing after her and her cousins when they went outside. Gods, she felt as if she was imprisoned in a massive cage made out of grey stone and snow and was slowly going mad.