It was a feat to sit pretty on a hard stone, with a petticoat and a skirt and an apron besides. Sansa hated the apron, but she liked its pockets. It had been useful at the camp, and so she'd not yet abandoned it. She could find no good reason -- like Gendry with his armour -- to toss it away. So she fought with the three layers and bunched the fabric up at her knees so that the length of her calves and the bend of her ankle could enjoy the cold bright stream. The hot pain on her heels and her toes seemed to disappear the moment she submerged them -- and in that moment, she sighed. Shut her eyes. And saw the wisdom of Gendry's suggestion to have done this in the first place.

"Certainly," she said -- distracted and only half-hearing his plan. But then (after a thoughtful splash and as she leaned forward to peer at how clear the water looked all the way down to the rocks) she tried once again: "No -- you're right. If we can go south and keep near the water, why shouldn't we? Better than any silly plan to wet sleeves and..."

Sansa trailed off and folded her hands on her lap. "I believe it would be wise to do so, yes."