[A nod, not so unhappy, though much of the poignance of the day is tied to thoughts of Robb and Bran and Arya and Rickon, who had been so little then he could hardly walk.]

Aye. No thoughts of what might come. We knew we couldn't all stay, that I'd go one place, Arya would go another when the time came for her to marry, Robb would be lord of Winterfell one day and so on, but we never thought there would be a war. Never thought we'd lose the place, either, or each other. [A shrug.] Still, it's a happy memory. All together, nothing to trouble us. I think there were apple tarts at supper and a scolding for staining our clothes with grass.