Jon nods, more pleased than he can say to see her playing along, to find some of the old light back in her bright Tully eyes. He mouths, "for Winterfell!" the old call that they had for when snowball fights turned into snowball wars in the courtyards, when the children teamed up to bury the unsuspecting members of their father's guard beneath mountains of drifts. It says much that now he's thinking of the tall walls blanketed in shining summer snow, and not the ruined, burnt out husk it must have become.