Work Text:
There wasn't an inn for miles in which to rest his head, and even if there had been, his sudden escape hadn't allowed much time to collect anything of value he might have used as currency. Still, he was not without provision.
Settled against a tree, Tyrion was grateful for the heavy cloak Snow shoved into his arms just before leading him to the castle's cistern exit, but perhaps even moreso for his old maester's words of wisdom, lulling him to sleep.
"The night sky is nature's map, my lord, learn to read it and you will never be lost."