She jumps. Even Nymeria startles. She had not caught the elf's scent on the wind and the steps were quiet enough to fool even her ears. She bares her teeth in warning. Arya shushes her with a quick command.

"Down, Nymeria."

Arya stands. She remains in front of the tree in an almost protective gesture.

"It's a weirwood. It's little now, but it'll get bigger. Once it has a face, the gods will see through its eyes."