She and her furry friends
Took down the queen and her men
And that's how the story goes
The story of the beast with those four dirty paws
In her dreams, Sansa is a creature of snow, who runs with dirty paws through King's Landing and melts in the heat of the sun.
She traverses through the streets, where merchant carts sit empty and the heads of the dead peer down at her from the spikes lining the battlements. The silence in this usually bustling city chills her to the bone.
Keeping to the edges of the shadows, to stay away from the cloying heat, Sansa makes her way towards the gallows. There, in the middle of the square lies a giant direwolf, its head laying several feet away from the rest of its body and a stag's antler sticking from its neck. Her claws click against the cobblestone as she trots over to stare into the eyes of the great beast and regret twists sharply in her gut. A crow lands on the body and squawks at her:
"Watch out! Watch out!"
Sansa growls at the crow and turns away from the direwolf's head to leave the way she came. The crow follows close behind her; fluttering and hopping along at her heels, snapping its beak at the tendons in her legs, all while chanting "Watch out! Watch out!"
With a snarl, Sansa begins to run and the crow takes to flight above her, crying out "The lion is coming!" But Sansa does not want to hear any more, so she runs. She runs and runs and runs and closes her eyes and when she opens them again is is within the castle walls, in front of the Iron Throne.
And on the Iron Throne sits a thing; a twisted, ugly thing that at one time may have been a lion but now is nothing more than a wretched beast that deserves a clean, quick death. Perhaps she will give it that.
"Is this the lion you said was coming?" Sansa barks out laughter and the thing on the throne shifts uneasily. "I could kill it with a single bite." And Sansa has never been one for bloodshed and violence, but when she closes her mouth around the thing's neck it tastes like the sweetest of summer wines.
"No," squawks the crow, "The lion is coming!"
And a lioness does come through the doors, with a roar and shaking with might, but Sansa merely laughs and her teeth flash white in the golden light of afternoon. Snow comes howling through the hall, thick and white, a blizzard from the beyond the Wall and it is followed by the wolves who pour through the windows and shred the lioness into pieces with their sharp-as-knives teeth. And when Sansa ascends the Iron Throne she closes her teeth around the crow's neck and crunches it's bones.
"No, winter is coming."
Sansa wakes up with a start and her heart beats fast and her sheets are red with her own blood, but she no longer harbors fear in her heart.
For she is a creature of the cold and she shall bring winter to the south. Turning her enemies into ice and crushing them into dust to be spread to the wind.