“He said.” Jojen frowned. “This . . . Coldhands?”“That wasn’t his true name,” said Gilly, rocking. “We only called him that, Sam and me. His hands were cold as ice, but he saved us from the dead men, him and his ravens, and he brought us here on his elk.”“His elk?” said Bran, wonderstruck.“His elk?” said Meera, startled.“His ravens?” said Jojen.“Hodor?” said Hodor.“Was he green?” Bran wanted to know. “Did he have antlers?”The fat man was confused. “The elk?”“Coldhands,” said Bran impatiently. “The green men ride on elks, Old Nan used to say. Sometimes they have antlers too.”

“Maester Luwin says there's nothing in dreams that a man need fear.''There is,' said Jojen.'What?''The past. The future. The truth." - Bran & Jojen”

“Up and down," Meera would sigh sometimes as they walked, "then down and up. Then up and down again. I hate these stupid mountains of yours, Prince Bran.""Yesterday you said you loved them.""Oh, I do. My lord father told me about mountains, but I never saw one till now. I love them more than I can say."Bran made a face at her. "But you just said you hated them.""Why can't it be both?" Meera reached up to pinch his nose."Because they're different," he insisted. "Like night and day, or ice and fire.""If ice can burn," said Jojen in his solemn voice, "then love and hate can mate. Mountain or marsh, it makes no matter. The land is one.""One," his sister agreed, "but over wrinkled.”

“Buy for me from the King's own kennels, the finest elk hounds of the Royal strain, male and female. Bring them back without delay. For," he murmured, scarcely above his breath as he turned to his books, "I have done with men.”

“Yes, well," said his da with a hint of a grow that told him just how worried Bran had been about him, "that'll teach you to dodge a bit quicker next time.""Sorry," he apologized meekly as he sat in the passenger seat."Good," said Bran, shutting the door gently. "Don't let it happen again."-Bran and Charles”

“Bran knew. "She's a child. A child of the forest." He shivered, as much from wonderment as cold. They had fallen into one of Old Nan's tales. "The First Men named us children," the little woman said. "The giants called us wok dak nag gran, the squirrel people, because we were small and quick and fond of trees, but we are no squirrels, no children. Our name in the True Tongue means those who sing the song of the earth. Before your Old Tongue was ever spoken, we had sun our songs ten thousand years." Meera said, "You speak the Common Tongue now." "For him. The Bran boy. I was born in the time of the dragon, and for two hundred years I walked the world of men, to watch and listen and learn. I might be walking still, but my legs were sore and my heart was weary, so I turned my feet for home." "Two hundred years?" said Meera. The child smiled. "Men, they are the children.”