“Did you know?”
“Did I know what?”
“That if he came back--” she hesitates, hating the guilt that sits heavy in her gut. “That if he came back it would be like this. That we wouldn’t be able to stop.”
“Can’t you?” Catelyn looks away from the road just long enough to lift an eyebrow at Brienne, one that says more clearly than words ever could: take responsibility for your choices.
“It doesn’t feel like it.” Brienne looks down at her hands, fingers locked together in a white-knuckled grip. “It’s like I see him and my entire body lights up. I know it’s stupid, but it feels like a storm system. Hot, humid air meets cool, dry air and everything explodes. It’s been years. It’s been years, and it never stops. Every single time it’s like this.”


















