Arya watches from the lower boughs of a nearby tree, eyes flickering from the archer to the target, enjoying the satisfying thunk the arrows make as they hit true. She hadn't expected anyone else to be around at this time, her own sleep pattern still not having recovered to anything resembling normal after so many months on the road, but watching the rhythm of the arrows, the familiarity of his actions, is a comforting distraction from her own thoughts.

"You missed."

An unwarranted observation that would surely be unwelcome, but it comes tumbling from her mouth before she can stop it.