There's little in Darrow that Sansa finds at all reminiscent of home. The stables aren't quite that, but they're closer than much else here. In the blink of an eye, the world changed around her, and then it did so again, when the horrors of a few months ago vanished. This place is still like none other she's ever seen, and though she likes to consider herself adaptable, knowing how necessary it's been for her in the past, she can't exactly call herself used to it. She winds up clinging, as a result, to whatever familiarity she can find — both in the people from home who are here, though she would never admit to or act like it, and in the few places that aren't totally foreign.

The stable fits that description; the greeting she gets when she arrives only makes it truer. Lady isn't technically her title anymore, but it was for most of her life, and it's close enough. "You as well," she replies, ducking her head slightly before taking in the woman's appearance, and the horse with her. "Is the horse yours?"