Hushed Willows i dreamed about the ghosts

Stark had given Silas space, attempting to put himself in the place as a young adult who was suddenly alone. He'd felt some hope when Larkspur had returned, but then it was swallowed up when she'd fallen from the mountain. He still refused to think she'd actually thrown herself from the mountainside. He had tried to let the boy process and think of things on his own without his mother or sister present - without brother or father either. The part of him that had hoped to see the next batch of Ostrega's in the keep had let that ship sail. 

He chuckled as he looked over towards the ground, following Silas' gaze. "This will be the first winter you remember, huh?" It had to be a surprise - that sudden shift, so quick and then a snap of cold. "If we're honest, this is my least favorite season. I hate the cold." Stark admitted. He shook his coat out, fluffing himself a bit. "Guess that'll be one good thing about the Crook. It's awkward sometimes but it'll serve it's purpose."