all that's left is shifting sand.
Robb kneels in front of the heart tree, feeling as though the ground has shifted beneath him and left him falling through the air. It is better than he had allowed himself to hope, but at the same time worse, the news the Kingslayer delivered--and he cannot even chalk it up to being a Lannister lie, because he knows, somehow, that it is not. He almost wishes it was.
He is not sure how long he remains there, his sword across his knees in silent supplication, his eyes cast up to the tree as if asking, pleading, for answers. He is not surprised when none are forthcoming. Grey Wind lies near him for a while, disappears to hunt, and returns again, sprawling out at Robb's side in quiet reassurance.
He is not sure how long he remains there, his sword across his knees in silent supplication, his eyes cast up to the tree as if asking, pleading, for answers. He is not surprised when none are forthcoming. Grey Wind lies near him for a while, disappears to hunt, and returns again, sprawling out at Robb's side in quiet reassurance.