[ 'What happened to you, Arry?' The question always hits her harder than she thinks it will and the ghost of the answer steals into her eyes for an unsteady moment. They turn a distant, dark grey, caught in the past she'd survived and the many places and experiences currently shuffling themselves around in her memory. She's learned how to go numb in these moments but she isn't sure how to answer. It's with an unsurprising grace that Sansa saves her from it. ]

The last time...

[ In the sept? The sept at Winterfell had been destroyed in the sacking and never rebuilt. She couldn't mean there, in the sept where they'd prayed as children. Then that meant... Still staring at Sansa, Arya shakes her head like she's seeing one of Sansa's songs finally come to life. ]

You're just like Jon, then. You don't remember the rest.

[ The rest that Arya can't forget. She clears her throat and blinks, proud not to have cried in earnest, but it's still painful to see what Sansa believed had happened to her - what she'd left her sister to live with. ]

I left with the Watch recruits. The Night's Watch, I mean. To go north. We... didn't get there.

[ She can't imagine telling Sansa about the road they'd walked, the battle they'd fought, but the worse things that had come after? How could she ever tell anyone any of that? ]

I lived off pigeons for a while, before that. In Flea Bottom.

[ That, at least, she knows will make her squirm. ]