You're getting weak, Old Sun. Not so long ago your slightest touch would set my skin aflame But now ... You're getting weak, Old Sun. And Winter, he's coming for you, and I don't know if you have the stones to see him off anymore. I think maybe you threw your weight around a little more than was good for you. Hell's front porch, they said, referring to those days just a few weeks back when you were on fire with ... something ... Life and Light and Passion that just wore us out. Ah, but now ... You're getting weak, Old Sun. And Winter, he's a young buck, eager to replace your sad old ass on the throne for a season. Among other things. He surely is pretty with his dark hair and glittering eyes and his feral grin. She'll play a while with him, but her heart probably belongs to you.