"Aye," Ned replies, recognizing the voice before turning his head to lay eyes on Baze's face with a pleasant expression. It isn't quite a smile, but it isn't anything more dour than that. He is attempting to use some spare cloth, sticks, and improvised rope to keep it sheltered. Although the Weirwood flourishes in Northern climates, this isn't The North, no matter the similarities in temperature. "It's a sapling I received as a gift some time ago," he explains, trying to maneuver all of the things together to create some sort of haphazard lean-to. "A tree from my home called a Weirwood."