He's not much different from the Northern Lords, as aggressive and frightening as the ones she had met in Robb's camp. The obscenities are a bit different, but the level of annoyance and anger that seemed to radiate from him was a sharp reminder of a difficult time. Looking past that (which she tries to do, even in her fear), she can see that he isn't in the best of shape. There's blood on his knuckles and, for all of his ferocity, he seemed a bit sluggish.

It was stepping into the wolf's den, but she hasn't been of much use in this village otherwise. This was something she knew and remembered after the siege of her castle. The Maester had shown her how to tend to the wounded. Blood certainly wasn't enough to frighten her, not compared to the fog outside.

"Do-" she broke off, biting her lower lip. "Do you need that tended to?"