She does not deny being wounded; for a girl like Sansa, her pain is as much a part of her armor as her courtesy, though she pretends not to be. Pain keeps others from getting too close to hurt you. And Sif has gotten past that armor. Past the courtesy and cold, careful distance to a girl with auburn hair and shy smiles. She doesn't know what a liar I am.

"The world is a violent place, but I do not think Lady Sif would hurt an innocent." A protest, perhaps, but not spoken like one. Lady licks Sansa's hand, delicately, and Sansa smiles at the affection.