The caves had seemed as good a place as any to hide away and sulk. Better than most, in fact, because she could look around and pretend that she was back in some corner of Westeros, or any place else for that matter, somewhere far away from the cloying confines of the mansion. She doesn't know how long she's been down here - certainly hours, maybe overnight - alternating between sleeping and sitting curled up feeling sorry for herself. She's never felt so much so intensely before, and she's not sure whether it's due to some magic of this place or whether, having the time and space to gather her thoughts rather than having to keep pressing onward, she's just finally able to pour out the knot of grief that's been building in her ever since that day at Baelor's Sept.

She sits up when she hears Dipper talking to himself, dismayed at someone having found her hiding spot, and even more so when she realises that it's Sansa's betrothed of all people. No, he'd said they were less formal than that. Sansa's boy-friend? The word sounded odd to her, even without saying it aloud.

"This is my spot. Go find your own."