"There's nothing more beautiful than fresh snow, Tyrion. You just have thin Southron blood," Sansa teases. She squeezes his hand lightly and keeps her steps light and her strides small; she knows that it is hard on his joints to walk in the cold.

"I just had to get outside for a little while. As much as I love to sew, I have had my fill of mending your shirts and trousers. I wanted to do something other than needlework."