Blackfeather Woods I know it's just a number but you're the eighth wonder

"Not a bird," he agreed. Birds were filthy, cowardly creatures as far as the little dwarf was concerned. The pack's reverent feelings toward ravens hadn't trickled down to him yet, and the only raven he'd ever seen that wasn't doing something dastardly or gross was the one with the extra long beak. No, Ramsay was not keen on being compared to a bird, and pulled a face at the very notion that he would hide from something that sounded as grand as war did.

He listened to Euron's story, though interjected to remind his brother that Potema was, "not a mother." If he met her again, he would not refer to her by that title, nor would he us it when speaking about her. "She is Sithis," he claimed, invoking the image of the dread god that much of the brotherhood worshipped, "death and betrayal." He didn't mean it literally, of course. Sithis was its own eternal, untouchable being, at least as far as wolves of the brotherhood were concerned, and Ramsay too. But Potema was the closest thing to a physical embodiment, and that made her purely wicked. Given the chance to snuff out her life, he would take it without hesitation.

"So she dies?" wondered Ramsay then, for that was the reason that his heart felt lighter to know Potema had not run away. If the war claimed her soul after all she had done to them, he would surely sleep better at night.