Bran watched them come from a guard turret3 atop the outer wall, peering through Maester Luwin’sbronze far-eye while perched on Hodor’s shoulders. Lord Rickard himself led them, his sons Harrionand Eddard and Torrhen riding beside him beneath night-black banners emblazoned with the whitesunburst of their House. Old Nan said they had Stark1 blood in them, going back hundreds of years,but they did not look like Starks to Bran. They were big men, and fierce, faces covered with thickbeards, hair worn loose past the shoulders. Their cloaks were made of skins, the pelts4 of bear and sealand wolf.
They were the last, he knew. The other lords were already here, with their hosts. Bran yearned6 toride out among them, to see the winter houses full to bursting, the jostling crowds in the marketsquare every morning, the streets rutted and torn by wheel and hoof7. But Robb had forbidden him toleave the castle. “We have no men to spare to guard you,” his brother had explained.
“I’ll take Summer,” Bran argued.
“Don’t act the boy with me, Bran,” Robb said. “You know better than that. Only two days agoone of Lord Bolton’s men knifed one of Lord Cerwyn’s at the Smoking Log. Our lady mother wouldskin me for a pelt5 if I let you put yourself at risk.” He was using the voice of Robb the Lord when hesaid it; Bran knew that meant there was no appeal.
It was because of what had happened in the wolfswood, he knew. The memory still gave him baddreams. He had been as helpless as a baby, no more able to defend himself than Rickon would havebeen. Less, even … Rickon would have kicked them, at the least. It shamed him. He was only a fewyears younger than Robb; if his brother was almost a man grown, so was he. He should have beenable to protect himself.
A year ago, before, he would have visited the town even if it meant climbing over the walls byhimself. In those days he could run down stairs, get on and off his pony8 by himself, and wield9 awooden sword good enough to knock Prince Tommen in the dirt. Now he could only watch, peeringout through Maester Luwin’s lens tube. The maester had taught him all the banners: the mailed fist ofthe Glovers, silver on scarlet10; Lady Mormont’s black bear; the hideous11 flayed12 man that went beforeRoose Bolton of the Dreadfort; a bull moose for the Hornwoods; a battle-axe13 for the Cerwyns; threesentinel trees for the Tallharts; and the fearsome sigil of House Umber, a roaring giant in shatteredchains.
And soon enough he learned the faces too, when the lords and their sons and knights14 retainer cameto Winterfell to feast. Even the Great Hall was not large enough to seat all of them at once, so Robbhosted each of the principal bannermen in turn. Bran was always given the place of honor at hisbrother’s right hand. Some of the lords bannermen gave him queer hard stares as he sat there, as ifthey wondered by what right a green boy should be placed above them, and him a cripple too.
“How many is it now?” Bran asked Maester Luwin as Lord Karstark and his sons rode throughthe gates in the outer wall.
“Twelve thousand men, or near enough as makes no matter.”
“How many knights?”
“Few enough,” the maester said with a touch of impatience17. “To be a knight15, you must stand yourvigil in a sept, and be anointed with the seven oils to consecrate18 your vows19. In the north, only a few ofthe great houses worship the Seven. The rest honor the old gods, and name no knights … but thoselords and their sons and sworn swords are no less fierce or loyal or honorable. A man’s worth is notmarked by a ser before his name. As I have told you a hundred times before.”
“Still,” said Bran, “how many knights?”
Maester Luwin sighed. “Three hundred, perhaps four … among three thousand armored lances whoare not knights.”
“Lord Karstark is the last,” Bran said thoughtfully. “Robb will feast him tonight.”
“No doubt he will.”
“How long before … before they go?”
“He must march soon, or not at all,” Maester Luwin said. “The winter town is full to bursting, andthis army of his will eat the countryside clean if it camps here much longer. Others are waiting to joinhim all along the kingsroad, barrow knights and crannogmen and the Lords Manderly and Flint. Thefighting has begun in the riverlands, and your brother has many leagues to go.”
“I know.” Bran felt as miserable20 as he sounded. He handed the bronze tube back to the maester,and noticed how thin Luwin’s hair had grown on top. He could see the pink of scalp showing through.
It felt queer to look down on him this way, when he’d spent his whole life looking up at him, butwhen you sat on Hodor’s back you looked down on everyone. “I don’t want to watch anymore.
Hodor, take me back to the keep.”
“Hodor,” said Hodor.
Maester Luwin tucked the tube up his sleeve. “Bran, your lord brother will not have time to see younow. He must greet Lord Karstark and his sons and make them welcome.”
“I won’t trouble Robb. I want to visit the godswood.” He put his hand on Hodor’s shoulder.
“Hodor.”
A series of chisel-cut handholds made a ladder in the granite21 of the tower’s inner wall. Hodorhummed tunelessly as he went down hand under hand, Bran bouncing against his back in the wickerseat that Maester Luwin had fashioned for him. Luwin had gotten the idea from the baskets thewomen used to carry firewood on their backs; after that it had been a simple matter of cutting legholesand attaching some new straps22 to spread Bran’s weight more evenly. It was not as good as ridingDancer, but there were places Dancer could not go, and this did not shame Bran the way it did whenHodor carried him in his arms like a baby. Hodor seemed to like it too, though with Hodor it was hardto tell. The only tricky23 part was doors. Sometimes Hodor forgot that he had Bran on his back, and thatcould be painful when he went through a door.
For near a fortnight there had been so many comings and goings that Robb ordered bothportcullises kept up and the drawbridge down between them, even in the dead of night. A longcolumn of armored lancers was crossing the moat between the walls when Bran emerged from thetower; Karstark men, following their lords into the castle. They wore black iron halfhelms and blackwoolen cloaks patterned with the white sunburst. Hodor trotted25 along beside them, smiling to himself,his boots thudding against the wood of the drawbridge. The riders gave them queer looks as they wentby, and once Bran heard someone guffaw26. He refused to let it trouble him. “Men will look at you,”
Maester Luwin had warned him the first time they had strapped27 the wicker basket around Hodor’schest. “They will look, and they will talk, and some will mock you.” Let them mock, Bran thought. Noone mocked him in his bedchamber, but he would not live his life in bed.
As they passed beneath the gatehouse portcullis, Bran put two fingers into his mouth and whistled.
Summer came loping across the yard. Suddenly the Karstark lancers were fighting for control, as theirhorses rolled their eyes and whickered in dismay. One stallion reared, screaming, his rider cursing andhanging on desperately29. The scent30 of the direwolves sent horses into a frenzy31 of fear if they were notaccustomed to it, but they’d quiet soon enough once Summer was gone. “The godswood,” Branreminded Hodor.
Even Winterfell itself was crowded. The yard rang to the sound of sword and axe, the rumble32 ofwagons, and the barking of dogs. The armory33 doors were open, and Bran glimpsed Mikken at hisforge, his hammer ringing as sweat dripped off his bare chest. Bran had never seen as many strangersin all his years, not even when King Robert had come to visit Father.
He tried not to flinch35 as Hodor ducked through a low door. They walked down a long dim hallway,Summer padding easily beside them. The wolf glanced up from time to time, eyes smoldering36 likeliquid gold. Bran would have liked to touch him, but he was riding too high for his hand to reach.
The godswood was an island of peace in the sea of chaos37 that Winterfell had become. Hodor madehis way through the dense38 stands of oak and ironwood and sentinels, to the still pool beside the hearttree. He stopped under the gnarled limbs of the weirwood, humming. Bran reached up over his headand pulled himself out of his seat, drawing the dead weight of his legs up through the holes in thewicker basket. He hung for a moment, dangling39, the dark red leaves brushing against his face, untilHodor lifted him and lowered him to the smooth stone beside the water. “I want to be by myself for awhile,” he said. “You go soak. Go to the pools.”
“Hodor.” Hodor stomped40 through the trees and vanished. Across the godswood, beneath thewindows of the Guest House, an underground hot spring fed three small ponds. Steam rose from thewater day and night, and the wall that loomed41 above was thick with moss42. Hodor hated cold water,and would fight like a treed wildcat when threatened with soap, but he would happily immersehimself in the hottest pool and sit for hours, giving a loud burp to echo the spring whenever a bubblerose from the murky43 green depths to break upon the surface.
Summer lapped at the water and settled down at Bran’s side. He rubbed the wolf under the jaw44, andfor a moment boy and beast both felt at peace. Bran had always liked the godswood, even before, butof late he found himself drawn45 to it more and more. Even the heart tree no longer scared him the wayit used to. The deep red eyes carved into the pale trunk still watched him, yet somehow he tookcomfort from that now. The gods were looking over him, he told himself; the old gods, gods of theStarks and the First Men and the children of the forest, his father’s gods. He felt safe in their sight,and the deep silence of the trees helped him think. Bran had been thinking a lot since his fall;thinking, and dreaming, and talking with the gods.
“Please make it so Robb won’t go away,” he prayed softly. He moved his hand through the coldwater, sending ripples46 across the pool. “Please make him stay. Or if he has to go, bring him homesafe, with Mother and Father and the girls. And make it … make it so Rickon understands.”
His baby brother had been wild as a winter storm since he learned Robb was riding off to war,weeping and angry by turns. He’d refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, evenpunched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he’d vanished. Robb had sethalf the castle searching for him, and when at last they’d found him down in the crypts, Rickon hadslashed at them with a rusted47 iron sword he’d snatched from a dead king’s hand, and Shaggydog hadcome slavering out of the darkness like a green-eyed demon48. The wolf was near as wild as Rickon;he’d bitten Gage49 on the arm and torn a chunk50 of flesh from Mikken’s thigh51. It had taken Robb himselfand Grey Wind to bring him to bay. Farlen had the black wolf chained up in the kennels52 now, andRickon cried all the more for being without him.
Maester Luwin counseled Robb to remain at Winterfell, and Bran pleaded with him too, for hisown sake as much as Rickon’s, but his brother only shook his head stubbornly and said, “I don’t wantto go. I have to.”
It was only half a lie. Someone had to go, to hold the Neck and help the Tullys against theLannisters, Bran could understand that, but it did not have to be Robb. His brother might have giventhe command to Hal Mollen or Theon Greyjoy, or to one of his lords bannermen. Maester Luwinurged him to do just that, but Robb would not hear of it. “My lord father would never have sent menoff to die while he huddled53 like a craven behind the walls of Winterfell,” he said, all Robb the Lord.
Robb seemed half a stranger to Bran now, transformed, a lord in truth, though he had not yet seenhis sixteenth name day. Even their father’s bannermen seemed to sense it. Many tried to test him,each in his own way. Roose Bolton and Robett Glover both demanded the honor of battle command,the first brusquely, the second with a smile and a jest. Stout55, grey-haired Maege Mormont, dressed inmail like a man, told Robb bluntly that he was young enough to be her grandson, and had no businessgiving her commands … but as it happened, she had a granddaughter she would be willing to havehim marry. Soft-spoken Lord Cerwyn had actually brought his daughter with him, a plump, homelymaid of thirty years who sat at her father’s left hand and never lifted her eyes from her plate. JovialLord Hornwood had no daughters, but he did bring gifts, a horse one day, a haunch of venison thenext, a silver-chased hunting horn the day after, and he asked nothing in return … nothing but acertain holdfast taken from his grandfather, and hunting rights north of a certain ridge24, and leave to dam the White Knife, if it please the lord.
Robb answered each of them with cool courtesy, much as Father might have, and somehow he bentthem to his will.
And when Lord Umber, who was called the Greatjon by his men and stood as tall as Hodor andtwice as wide, threatened to take his forces home if he was placed behind the Hornwoods or theCerwyns in the order of march, Robb told him he was welcome to do so. “And when we are donewith the Lannisters,” he promised, scratching Grey Wind behind the ear, “we will march back north,root you out of your keep, and hang you for an oathbreaker.” Cursing, the Greatjon flung a flagon ofale into the fire and bellowed56 that Robb was so green he must piss grass. When Hallis Mollen movedto restrain him, he knocked him to the floor, kicked over a table, and unsheathed the biggest, ugliestgreatsword that Bran had ever seen. All along the benches, his sons and brothers and sworn swordsleapt to their feet, grabbing for their steel.
Yet Robb only said a quiet word, and in a snarl57 and the blink of an eye Lord Umber was on hisback, his sword spinning on the floor three feet away and his hand dripping blood where Grey Windhad bitten off two fingers. “My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liegelord,” Robb said, “but doubtless you only meant to cut my meat.” Bran’s bowels58 went to water as theGreatjon struggled to rise, sucking at the red stumps59 of fingers … but then, astonishingly, the hugeman laughed. “Your meat,” he roared, “is bloody60 tough.”
And somehow after that the Greatjon became Robb’s right hand, his staunchest champion, loudlytelling all and sundry61 that the boy lord was a Stark after all, and they’d damn well better bend theirknees if they didn’t fancy having them chewed off.
Yet that very night, his brother came to Bran’s bedchamber pale and shaken, after the fires hadburned low in the Great Hall. “I thought he was going to kill me,” Robb confessed. “Did you see theway he threw down Hal, like he was no bigger than Rickon? Gods, I was so scared. And theGreatjon’s not the worst of them, only the loudest. Lord Roose never says a word, he only looks atme, and all I can think of is that room they have in the Dreadfort, where the Boltons hang the skins oftheir enemies.”
“That’s just one of Old Nan’s stories,” Bran said. A note of doubt crept into his voice. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” He gave a weary shake of his head. “Lord Cerwyn means to take his daughtersouth with us. To cook for him, he says. Theon is certain I’ll find the girl in my bedroll one night. Iwish … I wish Father was here …”
That was the one thing they could agree on, Bran and Rickon and Robb the Lord; they all wishedFather was here. But Lord Eddard was a thousand leagues away, a captive in some dungeon62, a huntedfugitive running for his life, or even dead. No one seemed to know for certain; every traveler told adifferent tale, each more terrifying than the last. The heads of Father’s guardsmen were rotting on thewalls of the Red Keep, impaled63 on spikes64. King Robert was dead at Father’s hands. The Baratheonshad laid siege to King’s Landing. Lord Eddard had fled south with the king’s wicked brother Renly.
Arya and Sansa had been murdered by the Hound. Mother had killed Tyrion the Imp16 and hung hisbody from the walls of Riverrun. Lord Tywin Lannister was marching on the Eyrie, burning andslaughtering as he went. One wine-sodden taleteller even claimed that Rhaegar Targaryen hadreturned from the dead and was marshaling a vast host of ancient heroes on Dragonstone to reclaimhis father’s throne.
When the raven54 came, bearing a letter marked with Father’s own seal and written in Sansa’s hand,the cruel truth seemed no less incredible. Bran would never forget the look on Robb’s face as hestared at their sister’s words. “She says Father conspired65 at treason with the king’s brothers,” he read.
“King Robert is dead, and Mother and I are summoned to the Red Keep to swear fealty66 to Joffrey.
She says we must be loyal, and when she marries Joffrey she will plead with him to spare our lordfather’s life.” His fingers closed into a fist, crushing Sansa’s letter between them. “And she saysnothing of Arya, nothing, not so much as a word. Damn her! What’s wrong with the girl?”
Bran felt all cold inside. “She lost her wolf,” he said, weakly, remembering the day when four ofhis father’s guardsmen had returned from the south with Lady’s bones. Summer and Grey Wind andShaggydog had begun to howl before they crossed the drawbridge, in voices drawn and desolate67.
Beneath the shadow of the First Keep was an ancient lichyard, its headstones spotted68 with pale lichen,where the old Kings of Winter had laid their faithful servants. It was there they buried Lady, while herbrothers stalked between the graves like restless shadows. She had gone south, and only her bones had returned.
Their grandfather, old Lord Rickard, had gone as well, with his son Brandon who was Father’sbrother, and two hundred of his best men. None had ever returned. And Father had gone south, withArya and Sansa, and Jory and Hullen and Fat Tom and the rest, and later Mother and Ser Rodrik hadgone, and they hadn’t come back either. And now Robb meant to go. Not to King’s Landing and notto swear fealty, but to Riverrun, with a sword in his hand. And if their lord father were truly aprisoner, that could mean his death for a certainty. It frightened Bran more than he could say.
“If Robb has to go, watch over him,” Bran entreated69 the old gods, as they watched him with theheart tree’s red eyes, “and watch over his men, Hal and Quent and the rest, and Lord Umber and LadyMormont and the other lords. And Theon too, I suppose. Watch them and keep them safe, if it pleaseyou, gods. Help them defeat the Lannisters and save Father and bring them home.”
A faint wind sighed through the godswood and the red leaves stirred and whispered. Summer baredhis teeth. “You hear them, boy?” a voice asked.
Bran lifted his head. Osha stood across the pool, beneath an ancient oak, her face shadowed byleaves. Even in irons, the Wildling moved quiet as a cat. Summer circled the pool, sniffed71 at her. Thetall woman flinched72.
“Summer, to me,” Bran called. The direwolf took one final sniff70, spun73, and bounded back. Branwrapped his arms around him. “What are you doing here?” He had not seen Osha since they’d takenher captive in the wolfswood, though he knew she’d been set to working in the kitchens.
“They are my gods too,” Osha said. “Beyond the Wall, they are the only gods.” Her hair wasgrowing out, brown and shaggy. It made her look more womanly, that and the simple dress of brownroughspun they’d given her when they took her mail and leather. “Gage lets me have my prayers fromtime to time, when I feel the need, and I let him do as he likes under my skirt, when he feels the need.
It’s nothing to me. I like the smell of flour on his hands, and he’s gentler than Stiv.” She gave anawkward bow. “I’ll leave you. There’s pots that want scouring74.”
“No, stay,” Bran commanded her. “Tell me what you meant, about hearing the gods.”
Osha studied him. “You asked them and they’re answering. Open your ears, listen, you’ll hear.”
Bran listened. “It’s only the wind,” he said after a moment, uncertain. “The leaves are rustling75.”
“Who do you think sends the wind, if not the gods?” She seated herself across the pool from him,clinking faintly as she moved. Mikken had fixed76 iron manacles to her ankles, with a heavy chainbetween them; she could walk, so long as she kept her strides small, but there was no way for her torun, or climb, or mount a horse. “They see you, boy. They hear you talking. That rustling, that’s themtalking back.”
“What are they saying?”
“They’re sad. Your lord brother will get no help from them, not where he’s going. The old godshave no power in the south. The weirwoods there were all cut down, thousands of years ago. How canthey watch your brother when they have no eyes?”
Bran had not thought of that. It frightened him. If even the gods could not help his brother, whathope was there? Maybe Osha wasn’t hearing them right. He cocked his head and tried to listen again.
He thought he could hear the sadness now, but nothing more than that.
The rustling grew louder. Bran heard muffled77 footfalls and a low humming, and Hodor cameblundering out of the trees, naked and smiling. “Hodor!”
“He must have heard our voices,” Bran said. “Hodor, you forgot your clothes.”
“Hodor,” Hodor agreed. He was dripping wet from the neck down, steaming in the chill air. Hisbody was covered with brown hair, thick as a pelt. Between his legs, his manhood swung long andheavy.
Osha eyed him with a sour smile. “Now there’s a big man,” she said. “He has giant’s blood in him,or I’m the queen.”
“Maester Luwin says there are no more giants. He says they’re all dead, like the children of theforest. All that’s left of them are old bones in the earth that men turn up with plows78 from time totime.”
“Let Maester Luwin ride beyond the Wall,” Osha said. “He’ll find giants then, or they’ll find him.
My brother killed one. Ten foot tall she was, and stunted79 at that. They’ve been known to grow big astwelve and thirteen feet. Fierce things they are too, all hair and teeth, and the wives have beards liketheir husbands, so there’s no telling them apart. The women take human men for lovers, and it’s from them the half bloods come. It goes harder on the women they catch. The men are so big they’ll rip amaid apart before they get her with child.” She grinned at him. “But you don’t know what I mean, doyou, boy?”
“Yes I do,” Bran insisted. He understood about mating; he had seen dogs in the yard, and watcheda stallion mount a mare80. But talking about it made him uncomfortable. He looked at Hodor. “Go backand bring your clothes, Hodor,” he said. “Go dress.”
“Hodor.” He walked back the way he had come, ducking under a low-hanging tree limb.
He was awfully81 big, Bran thought as he watched him go. “Are there truly giants beyond the Wall?”
he asked Osha, uncertainly.
“Giants and worse than giants, Lordling. I tried to tell your brother when he asked his questions,him and your maester and that smiley boy Greyjoy. The cold winds are rising, and men go out fromtheir fires and never come back … or if they do, they’re not men no more, but only wights, with blueeyes and cold black hands. Why do you think I run south with Stiv and Hali and the rest of themfools? Mance thinks he’ll fight, the brave sweet stubborn man, like the white walkers were no morethan rangers34, but what does he know? He can call himself King-beyond-the-Wall all he likes, but he’sstill just another old black crow who flew down from the Shadow Tower. He’s never tasted winter. Iwas born up there, child, like my mother and her mother before her and her mother before her, bornof the Free Folk. We remember.” Osha stood, her chains rattling82 together. “I tried to tell your lordlingbrother. Only yesterday, when I saw him in the yard. ‘M’lord Stark,’ I called to him, respectful as youplease, but he looked through me, and that sweaty oaf Greatjon Umber shoves me out of the path. Sobe it. I’ll wear my irons and hold my tongue. A man who won’t listen can’t hear.”
“Tell me. Robb will listen to me, I know he will.”
“Will he now? We’ll see. You tell him this, m’lord. You tell him he’s bound on marching thewrong way. It’s north he should be taking his swords. North, not south. You hear me?”
Bran nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
But that night, when they feasted in the Great Hall, Robb was not with them. He took his meal inthe solar instead, with Lord Rickard and the Greatjon and the other lords bannermen, to make the finalplans for the long march to come. It was left to Bran to fill his place at the head of the table, and actthe host to Lord Karstark’s sons and honored friends. They were already at their places when Hodorcarried Bran into the hall on his back, and knelt beside the high seat. Two of the serving men helpedlift him from his basket. Bran could feel the eyes of every stranger in the hall. It had grown quiet.
“My lords,” Hallis Mollen announced, “Brandon Stark, of Winterfell.”
“I welcome you to our fires,” Bran said stiffly, “and offer you meat and mead83 in honor of ourfriendship.”
Harrion Karstark, the oldest of Lord Rickard’s sons, bowed, and his brothers after him, yet as theysettled back in their places he heard the younger two talking in low voices, over the clatter84 of winecups. “… sooner die than live like that,” muttered one, his father’s namesake Eddard, and his brotherTorrhen said likely the boy was broken inside as well as out, too craven to take his own life.
Broken, Bran thought bitterly as he clutched his knife. Is that what he was now? Bran the Broken?
“I don’t want to be broken,” he whispered fiercely to Maester Luwin, who’d been seated to his right.
“I want to be a knight.”
“There are some who call my order the knights of the mind,” Luwin replied. “You are asurpassing clever boy when you work at it, Bran. Have you ever thought that you might wear amaester’s chain? There is no limit to what you might learn.”
“I want to learn magic,” Bran told him. “The crow promised that I would fly.”
Maester Luwin sighed. “I can teach you history, healing, herblore. I can teach you the speech ofravens, and how to build a castle, and the way a sailor steers85 his ship by the stars. I can teach you tomeasure the days and mark the seasons, and at the Citadel86 in Oldtown they can teach you a thousandthings more. But, Bran, no man can teach you magic.”
“The children could,” Bran said. “The children of the forest.” That reminded him of the promisehe had made to Osha in the godswood, so he told Luwin what she had said.
The maester listened politely. “The Wildling woman could give Old Nan lessons in telling tales, Ithink,” he said when Bran was done. “I will talk with her again if you like, but it would be best if youdid not trouble your brother with this folly87. He has more than enough to concern him without frettingover giants and dead men in the woods. It’s the Lannisters who hold your lord father, Bran, not the children of the forest.” He put a gentle hand on Bran’s arm. “Think on what I said, child.”
And two days later, as a red dawn broke across a windswept sky, Bran found himself in the yardbeneath the gatehouse, strapped atop Dancer as he said his farewells to his brother.
“You are the lord in Winterfell now,” Robb told him. He was mounted on a shaggy grey stallion,his shield hung from the horse’s side; wood banded with iron, white and grey, and on it the snarlingface of a direwolf. His brother wore grey chainmail over bleached88 leathers, sword and dagger89 at hiswaist, a fur-trimmed cloak across his shoulders. “You must take my place, as I took Father’s, until wecome home.”
“I know,” Bran replied miserably90. He had never felt so little or alone or scared. He did not knowhow to be a lord.
“Listen to Maester Luwin’s counsel, and take care of Rickon. Tell him that I’ll be back as soon asthe fighting is done.”
Rickon had refused to come down. He was up in his chamber28, red-eyed and defiant91. “No!” he’dscreamed when Bran had asked if he didn’t want to say farewell to Robb. “NO farewell!”
“I told him,” Bran said. “He says no one ever comes back.”
“He can’t be a baby forever. He’s a Stark, and near four.” Robb sighed. “Well, Mother will behome soon. And I’ll bring back Father, I promise.”
He wheeled his courser around and trotted away. Grey Wind followed, loping beside the warhorse,lean and swift. Hallis Mollen went before them through the gate, carrying the rippling92 white banner ofHouse Stark atop a high standard of grey ash. Theon Greyjoy and the Greatjon fell in on either side ofRobb, and their knights formed up in a double column behind them, steel-tipped lances glinting in thesun.
Uncomfortably, he remembered Osha’s words. He’s marching the wrong way, he thought. For aninstant he wanted to gallop93 after him and shout a warning, but when Robb vanished beneath theportcullis, the moment was gone.
Beyond the castle walls, a roar of sound went up. The foot soldiers and townsfolk were cheeringRobb as he rode past, Bran knew; cheering for Lord Stark, for the Lord of Winterfell on his greatstallion, with his cloak streaming and Grey Wind racing94 beside him. They would never cheer for himthat way, he realized with a dull ache. He might be the lord in Winterfell while his brother and fatherwere gone, but he was still Bran the Broken. He could not even get off his own horse, except to fall.
When the distant cheers had faded to silence and the yard was empty at last, Winterfell seemeddeserted and dead. Bran looked around at the faces of those who remained, women and children andold men … and Hodor. The huge stableboy had a lost and frightened look to his face. “Hodor?” hesaid sadly.
“Hodor,” Bran agreed, wondering what it meant.
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stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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turret
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| n.塔楼，角塔 | |
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pelts
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| n. 皮毛，投掷, 疾行 vt. 剥去皮毛，（连续）投掷 vi. 猛击，大步走 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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hoof
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| n.(马，牛等的)蹄 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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13
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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14
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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16
imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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18
consecrate
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| v.使圣化，奉…为神圣；尊崇；奉献 | |
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vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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21
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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22
straps
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| n.带子( strap的名词复数 )；挎带；肩带；背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 )；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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23
tricky
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| adj.狡猾的，奸诈的；(工作等)棘手的，微妙的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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guffaw
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| n.哄笑；突然的大笑 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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31
frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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32
rumble
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| n.隆隆声；吵嚷；v.隆隆响；低沉地说 | |
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armory
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| n.纹章，兵工厂，军械库 | |
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34
rangers
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| 护林者( ranger的名词复数 )； 突击队员 | |
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flinch
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| v.畏缩，退缩 | |
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smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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38
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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39
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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stomped
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| v.跺脚，践踏，重踏( stomp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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42
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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46
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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47
rusted
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| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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49
gage
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| n.标准尺寸，规格；量规，量表 [=gauge] | |
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50
chunk
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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51
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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52
kennels
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| n.主人外出时的小动物寄养处，养狗场；狗窝( kennel的名词复数 )；养狗场 | |
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53
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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54
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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57
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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61
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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62
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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63
impaled
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| 钉在尖桩上( impale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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65
conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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66
fealty
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| n.忠贞，忠节 | |
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67
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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68
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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71
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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72
flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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74
scouring
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| 擦[洗]净，冲刷，洗涤 | |
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75
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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76
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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78
plows
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| n.犁( plow的名词复数 )；犁型铲雪机v.耕( plow的第三人称单数 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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79
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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80
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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81
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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82
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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83
mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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84
clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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85
steers
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| n.阉公牛，肉用公牛( steer的名词复数 )v.驾驶( steer的第三人称单数 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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86
citadel
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| n.城堡；堡垒；避难所 | |
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87
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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88
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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89
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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90
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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91
defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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92
rippling
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| 起涟漪的，潺潺流水般声音的 | |
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93
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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94
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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