Robb adjusted his cloak, bowed slightly to Catelyn, then turned and walked back toward the castle. The crisp clink of his armor echoed along the empty road, mingling with the cold winds of the North as they blew toward the Wall.
Shards of ice struck the castle walls on the wind, making faint rustling sounds. Catelyn stood where she was, watching Robb's increasingly upright figure recede. The wind swept her auburn hair against her cheeks, but she did not notice.
Ever since Ned had taken their daughters south to King's Landing, misfortune had clung to their Stark family like maggots burrowing into bone. First Bran had fallen from the tower and lain unconscious, then Ned had been disgraced and beheaded, while their two daughters remained trapped in King's Landing.
Then the clouds of war had swept across the Seven Kingdoms. Now she had learned that winter was coming, and the shadow of the Others was bearing down on the North. Some of House Stark's blood had died, some had been wounded, and others had been scattered.
Only today had the family members who remained finally found a new pillar of strength who had grown into his role: Robb, who could hold them together and protect House Stark. And soon, they would welcome the next generation of Stark blood.
Catelyn raised a hand to brush the hair from her eyes and looked once more toward the horizon where the dragons had departed, but the great beasts had long since vanished from sight.
Only the bitter winds peculiar to the North, which she had still not grown accustomed to, continued to blow against her, stinging her cheeks.
She remembered Viserys standing in Winterfell's courtyard earlier, his violet eyes, so distinctive of Valyrian blood, holding an arrogant yet remarkably composed expression.
Catelyn slowly