He might notice the comet hovering over the Watches Lobby and the Bell Tower, and further back

the squat and circular Primary Keep, its figures of deformity black shapes against the bruised purple nightfall.Bran had known each of them once.
stone of those buildings, interior and out; he had climbed them all, hurrying up walls as effortlessly as other boys ran down stairs. Their housetops had been his secret places, and the crows on the broken tower his uncommon friends. And at that point, he had fallen. Bran did not keep in mind falling, but they said he had, so he assumed it must be genuine. He had nearly passed on. When he saw the weatherworn gargoyles atop the Primary Keep where it had happened, he got a strange tight feeling in his stomach. And presently he might not climb, nor walk, nor run, nor swordfight, and the dreams he’d envisioned of knighthood had soured in his head. Summer had yelled the day Bran had died, and Robb had told him for a long time as he lay broken in his bed that he had recently gone absent to war. Summer had grieved for him, and Shaggydog a