“oh, my sweet summer child,“ old nan said quietly, “what do you know of fear?
fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet
deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. fear is for the long
night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children
are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and
hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods”