The words hit Claire with a fair amount of force, her chest aching at the thought of one's home being burned or razed to the ground. (How could they, she wondered? How could war be so consuming and relentless and merciless, all of those things at once and more? It was hard to understand, impossible to imagine until one found themselves in the thick of it.) But before she had the chance to comment, Arya's words cut off as she ducked into the alley, Claire blinking for a couple of seconds before she rushed to catch up. There was a comforting familiarity to it, in all honesty. If Arya ever did decide to stay in a single place for long, Claire might have found herself more worried than to know she was wandering everywhere the island would let her, testing her limits.

"Whoa, okay," Claire replied, pressing her lips together as she reached her hand for the brick wall to steady herself, driving her heels hastily to the ground. Mr. Muggles squirmed in her hold, but let out a yawn soon enough, and Claire pulled him closer so as not to let the dog freeze in the cold. "See anything good?"