She heard the whistle from her porch. With Sansa's return, Margaery had been sleeping far better through the night, grateful to have her friend with her and another's presence to help chase away her nightmares. The only troubles was that she had started to sleep past sunrise, sometimes not getting to the barn until mid-morning. The snowfall hadn't helped matters, only making her more sluggish and exhausted.

Wrapping her arms around herself, lightly cursing the meager jacket she had, Margaery was about to force her way through the snow to the barn when Boyd whistled loudly. They had never used it as a means of warning before, but there was a sense of something in the air, enough to not discount the call.

She hurried towards the source, following the others as they gathered on one of the paths. Before she could even see what caused the alarm, she spied a bloody cloth collar nearby, lying in the snow. She had tied them around her animals, marking them as her own in case they were to get lost or herded among others.

Unable to stop herself, she shoved past the others, coming upon a sight so horrific, her stomach turned violently in her stomach. Margaery turned away, trying to keep herself from vomiting. Her limbs shook against the tree that she grasped, hoping to remain steady on her feet. The cloth collar was clutched in her hands, the blood staining her skin.

"It's mine," she whispered when she felt strong enough. "That was my ram!" Fire appeared in her eyes, "What did this?" Who did this?