Margaery shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. She refuse to cry, she knew it was necessary to kill a rabbit to eat it - and heaven knew she enjoyed her fair share of rabbit in the south. Margaery looked up to him with regret in her eyes. She felt foolish, silly for getting so upset.

"The animal," she replied. "Blood, violence, it has never bothered me very much."

She used to watch her brother fight in duels, which often resulted in him getting a broken nose or being hit hard somewhere that resulted in him losing a great deal of blood. It had never bothered her.

Again she turned away as the wolves ate the rabbit. She didn't want to watch. "I'm sorry...I feel so foolish," she whispered, brushing the snowflakes from her hair. How was she to prove that she was a proper huntress by behaving like this?