Sansa was laughing, laughing for the first time in a long time. She couldn't remember why she had been so sad; she and Bran were having a snowball fight at Winterfell. She was giggling as they ran around the buildings.
After a few minutes with no snowball attacks, Sansa started to worry; she looked around, inside the outermost buildings, under the deepest snows. Instinctively, she looked up, and gasped. Bran was climbing the icy, treacherous wall.
"Bran!" She called up to him, but he either couldn't hear her, or he ignored her. Looking up the wall, Sansa screwed her face up in determination and started climbing herself. At first, it wasn't so bad, but the higher she got, the windier and the colder. Her fingers were going numb, but Bran was just ahead of her, sitting on something; a window of the tower they had bee climbing.
Finally, she almost reached him. One more stretch and she could touch his foot…but he moved, turning around to some disturbance in the tower. Sansa watched in horror as he slipped falling out and away too fast for her to grab onto him, to catch him
She screamed after him, and saw her little brother's face as he hit the hard ground. Sansa started to climb down as well, going faster than she had gone up, but the climbing was treacherous, and soon she slipped too.
Careening towards the ground, towards Bran, Sansa screamed again, knowing that it wouldn't make any difference. She saw his face growing closer and closer, and then she-
She woke up, her hands asleep and her sheets tangled around her legs.