Meera woke halfway through the night looking for Bran to find him missing from their little huddle. She stood, alarmed, and tried to see through the dark, wondering where she would go – as he must have walked. Summer wasn't there either, and she hadn't heard any noises, which made her feel a bit better, but nonetheless…
He hadn't gotten far, though, and she found him just a few feet away with his knees drawn to his chest, staring out into the dark. "Bran?"
"Sorry for worrying you." His voice sounded small, and for a young boy who often sounded much older than his years, that worried her.
"Worrying me? You have Summer. I'm not that worried." Meera sat down next to him, folding her legs beneath her. "Why are you awake?"
"I had a dream."
Meera sat up straighter. "A dream? What kind of dream? Should I wake Jojen?"
"No," said Bran, with surprising vehemence. "Not a green-dream. Just a dream. I don't want to talk to Jojen right now."
Meera let the silence stretch for a few moments, chewing on her lower lip. "All right. What kind of dream, then?"
"About my family. It was summer and we were all outside in the grass, and Rickon was chasing Shaggydog, and Arya and I were wrestling, and Robb and Jon were practicing with wooden swords, Sansa was chasing Rickon and mother and father were sitting next to each other and laughing." It took her a moment to realize that the noise Bran made was a muffled sniffle. "It was a happy dream."
Meera hesitated. "It sounds like a good dream," she offered, hesitantly, and then two pairs of eyes turned on her accusingly, as though instead of two Bran and his direwolf really were one.
"It was a good dream, and it was a false dream. I don't need stories anymore."
"Dreams don't always have to be real."
"If they're going to just show me my family all together again then they should be!"
A crow rose into the sky, cawing raucously, startled by Bran's yell. As though chastened, the younger boy looked away. "I'm sorry, Meera. I didn't mean to yell at you."
"I know. I forgive you." She'd never been angry, but it was a formality Bran would expect. Inching closer to him, she put an arm around his shoulders. "I know you miss your family."
He moved suddenly, pressing his face to her shoulder and hugging her fiercely, and to her surprise and then twinge of sorrow she could feel his shoulders shaking with tears. "I do miss them. I want them back. Why can't I have them back?"
Meera took a deep breath. "Once you learn to fly…"
"I don't want to fly anymore. I want my family." She could feel her jerkin growing wet, but didn't let go. "What about you and Jojen? Don't you want to go home?"
"Yes," she whispered, pushing Bran's hair back from his forehead, "But not until I finish helping you. You're more important than home, for me, right now."
Bran was quiet for a long time, but didn't pull away. Eventually, he spoke again. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry. It's not very brave of me."
"I think you're very brave, Bran," Meera said, gently. "The only real way to be brave is to keep going when you're afraid, or lost, or lonely."
"Father said something like that, once," Bran whispered, sounding lost again. Meera hugged him more tightly.
"My father does too. You don't think I'm never afraid, do you?"
"You don't act like it." Bran accused her, with a sniffle. Meera made herself smile for him.
"Maybe not. And neither do you." She kissed his forehead, lightly. "I think you're very brave, Bran."
"Do you really think I'll be able to fly?" Bran said, after a moment, hushed, not daring to hope.
"I think," Meera said, "That the only way to find out is to try."