I & II & III & IV & IV

If I look back I am lost

soon comes the cold, and the night that never ends;
                “oh, my sweet summer child,” old nan said quietly, “what do you know of fear? fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north. fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods.“