She combed wet fingers through her hair, using this method to gradually dampen the strands. The hair was long and kept slight waves in it from the braid. Sansa winced as she worked through a tangle, wound a stray fallen strand around her thumb, and set it afloat on the creek.

She was still thinking about her question: "Yes. You're right. Obviously. How could I be so stupid?" Her voice was quiet; her self-criticism genuine. "House Tully sits at Riverrun." -- Sat at Riverrun, but she did not want to think about the Freys. "And their device is a trout."

How could she have forgotten? No. Forgetfulness wasn't to blame. Merely denial and the thorough way in which she'd buried the Stark and the Tully deep under Stone. Interred them, really.