Her stick sword whistled out and caught it two feet off the ground, and it went down in a flurry ofbrown feathers. She was on it in the blink of an eye, grabbing a wing as the pigeon flapped andfluttered. It pecked at her hand. She grabbed its neck and twisted until she felt the bone snap.
Compared with catching2 cats, pigeons were easy.
A passing septon was looking at her askance. “Here’s the best place to find pigeon,” Arya told himas she brushed herself off and picked up her fallen stick sword. “They come for the crumbs3.” Hehurried away.
She tied the pigeon to her belt and started down the street. A man was pushing a load of tarts5 by ona two-wheeled cart; the smells sang of blueberries and lemons and apricots. Her stomach made ahollow rumbly noise. “Could I have one?” she heard herself say. “A lemon, or … or any kind.”
The pushcart6 man looked her up and down. Plainly he did not like what he saw. “Three coppers7.”
Arya tapped her wooden sword against the side of her boot. “I’ll trade you a fat pigeon,” she said.
“The Others take your pigeon,” the pushcart man said.
The tarts were still warm from the oven. The smells were making her mouth water, but she did nothave three coppers … or one. She gave the pushcart man a look, remembering what Syrio had told herabout seeing. He was short, with a little round belly8, and when he moved he seemed to favor his leftleg a little. She was just thinking that if she snatched a tart4 and ran he would never be able to catch herwhen he said, “You be keepin’ your filthy9 hands off. The gold cloaks know how to deal with thievinglittle gutter10 rats, that they do.”
Arya glanced warily11 behind her. Two of the City Watch were standing12 at the mouth of an alley13.
Their cloaks hung almost to the ground, the heavy wool dyed a rich gold; their mail and boots andgloves were black. One wore a longsword at his hip14, the other an iron cudgel. With a last wistfulglance at the tarts, Arya edged back from the cart and hurried off. The gold cloaks had not beenpaying her any special attention, but the sight of them tied her stomach in knots. Arya had beenstaying as far from the castle as she could get, yet even from a distance she could see the heads rottingatop the high red walls. Flocks of crows squabbled noisily over each head, thick as flies. The talk inFlea Bottom was that the gold cloaks had thrown in with the Lannisters, their commander raised to alord, with lands on the Trident and a seat on the king’s council.
She had also heard other things, scary things, things that made no sense to her. Some said her fatherhad murdered King Robert and been slain16 in turn by Lord Renly. Others insisted that Renly had killedthe king in a drunken quarrel between brothers. Why else should he have fled in the night like acommon thief? One story said the king had been killed by a boar while hunting, another that he’d diedeating a boar, stuffing himself so full that he’d ruptured17 at the table. No, the king had died at table,others said, but only because Varys the Spider poisoned him. No, it had been the queen who poisonedhim. No, he had died of a pox. No, he had choked on a fish bone.
One thing all the stories agreed on: King Robert was dead. The bells in the seven towers of theGreat Sept of Baelor had tolled18 for a day and a night, the thunder of their grief rolling across the city in a bronze tide. They only rang the bells like that for the death of a king, a tanner’s boy told Arya. r’s boy told Arya.
All she wanted was to go home, but leaving King’s Landing was not so easy as she had hoped. Talkof war was on every lip, and gold cloaks were as thick on the city walls as fleas20 on … well, her, forone. She had been sleeping in Flea15 Bottom, on rooftops and in stables, wherever she could find aplace to lie down, and it hadn’t taken her long to learn that the district was well named.
Every day since her escape from the Red Keep, Arya had visited each of the seven city gates inturn. The Dragon Gate, the Lion Gate, and the Old Gate were closed and barred. The Mud Gate andthe Gate of the Gods were open, but only to those who wanted to enter the city; the guards let no oneout. Those who were allowed to leave left by the King’s Gate or the Iron Gate, but Lannister men-atarmsin crimson22 cloaks and lion-crested helms manned the guard posts there. Spying down from theroof of an inn by the King’s Gate, Arya saw them searching wagons23 and carriages, forcing riders toopen their saddlebags, and questioning everyone who tried to pass on foot.
Sometimes she thought about swimming the river, but the Blackwater Rush was wide and deep,and everyone agreed that its currents were wicked and treacherous25. She had no coin to pay a ferrymanor take passage on a ship.
Her lord father had taught her never to steal, but it was growing harder to remember why. If she didnot get out soon, she would have to take her chances with the gold cloaks. She hadn’t gone hungrymuch since she learned to knock down birds with her stick sword, but she feared so much pigeon wasmaking her sick. A couple she’d eaten raw, before she found Flea Bottom.
In the Bottom there were pot-shops along the alleys26 where huge tubs of stew27 had been simmeringfor years, and you could trade half your bird for a heel of yesterday’s bread and a “bowl o’ brown,”
and they’d even stick the other half in the fire and crisp it up for you, so long as you plucked thefeathers yourself. Arya would have given anything for a cup of milk and a lemon cake, but the brownwasn’t so bad. It usually had barley28 in it, and chunks29 of carrot and onion and turnip30, and sometimeseven apple, with a film of grease swimming on top. Mostly she tried not to think about the meat. Onceshe had gotten a piece of fish.
The only thing was, the pot-shops were never empty, and even as she bolted down her food, Aryacould feel them watching. Some of them stared at her boots or her cloak, and she knew what theywere thinking. With others, she could almost feel their eyes crawling under her leathers; she didn’tknow what they were thinking, and that scared her even more. A couple times, she was followed outinto the alleys and chased, but so far no one had been able to catch her.
The silver bracelet31 she’d hoped to sell had been stolen her first night out of the castle, along withher bundle of good clothes, snatched while she slept in a burnt-out house off Pig Alley. All they lefther was the cloak she had been huddled32 in, the leathers on her back, her wooden practicesword … and Needle. She’d been lying on top of Needle, or else it would have been gone too; it wasworth more than all the rest together. Since then Arya had taken to walking around with her cloakdraped over her right arm, to conceal33 the blade at her hip. The wooden sword she carried in her lefthand, out where everybody could see it, to scare off robbers, but there were men in the pot-shops whowouldn’t have been scared off if she’d had a battle-axe. It was enough to make her lose her taste forpigeon and stale bread. Often as not, she went to bed hungry rather than risk the stares.
Once she was outside the city, she would find berries to pick, or orchards34 she might raid for applesand cherries. Arya remembered seeing some from the kingsroad on the journey south. And she coulddig for roots in the forest, even run down some rabbits. In the city, the only things to run down wererats and cats and scrawny dogs. The pot-shops would give you a fistful of coppers for a litter of pups,she’d heard, but she didn’t like to think about that.
Down below the Street of Flour was a maze35 of twisting alleys and cross streets. Arya scrambledthrough the crowds, trying to put distance between her and the gold cloaks. She had learned to keep tothe center of the street. Sometimes she had to dodge36 wagons and horses, but at least you could seethem coming. If you walked near the buildings, people grabbed you. In some alleys you couldn’t helpbut brush against the walls; the buildings leaned in so close they almost met.
A whooping37 gang of small children went running past, chasing a rolling hoop38. Arya stared at themwith resentment39, remembering the times she’d played at hoops40 with Bran and Jon and their babybrother Rickon. She wondered how big Rickon had grown, and whether Bran was sad. She wouldhave given anything if Jon had been here to call her “little sister” and muss her hair. Not that it neededmussing. She’d seen her reflection in puddles41, and she didn’t think hair got any more mussed than hers.
She had tried talking to the children she saw in the street, hoping to make a friend who would giveher a place to sleep, but she must have talked wrong or something. The little ones only looked at herwith quick, wary43 eyes and ran away if she came too close. Their big brothers and sisters askedquestions Arya couldn’t answer, called her names, and tried to steal from her. Only yesterday, ascrawny barefoot girl twice her age had knocked her down and tried to pull the boots off her feet, butArya gave her a crack on her ear with her stick sword that sent her off sobbing44 and bleeding.
A gull45 wheeled overhead as she made her way down the hill toward Flea Bottom. Arya glanced at itthoughtfully, but it was well beyond the reach of her stick. It made her think of the sea. Maybe thatwas the way out. Old Nan used to tell stories of boys who stowed away on trading galleys46 and sailedoff into all kinds of adventures. Maybe Arya could do that too. She decided48 to visit the riverfront. Itwas on the way to the Mud Gate anyway, and she hadn’t checked that one today.
The wharfs49 were oddly quiet when Arya got there. She spied another pair of gold cloaks, walkingside by side through the fish market, but they never so much as looked at her. Half the stalls wereempty, and it seemed to her that there were fewer ships at dock than she remembered. Out on theBlackwater, three of the king’s war galleys moved in formation, gold-painted hulls50 splitting the wateras their oars52 rose and fell. Arya watched them for a bit, then began to make her way along the river.
When she saw the guardsmen on the third pier53, in grey woolen54 cloaks trimmed with white satin, herheart almost stopped in her chest. The sight of Winterfell's colors brought tears to her eyes. Behindthem, a sleek55 three-banked trading galley47 rocked at her moorings. Arya could not read the namepainted on the hull51; the words were strange, Myrish, Braavosi, perhaps even High Valyrian. Shegrabbed a passing longshoreman by the sleeve. “Please,” she said, “what ship is this?”
“She’s the Wind Witch, out of Myr,” the man said.
“She’s still here,” Arya blurted56. The longshoreman gave her a queer look, shrugged57, and walkedaway. Arya ran toward the pier. The Wind Witch was the ship Father had hired to take herhome … still waiting! She’d imagined it had sailed ages ago.
Two of the guardsmen were dicing58 together while the third walked rounds, his hand on the pommelof his sword. Ashamed to let them see her crying like a baby, she stopped to rub at her eyes. Her eyesher eyes her eyes, why did …Look with your eyes, she heard Syrio whisper.
Arya looked. She knew all of her father’s men. The three in the grey cloaks were strangers. “You,”
the one walking rounds called out. “What do you want here, boy?” The other two looked up fromtheir dice59.
It was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her atonce. She made herself walk closer. They were looking for a girl, but he thought she was a boy. She’dbe a boy, then. “Want to buy a pigeon?” She showed him the dead bird.
“Get out of here,” the guardsman said.
Arya did as he told her. She did not have to pretend to be frightened. Behind her, the men wentback to their dice.
She could not have said how she got back to Flea Bottom, but she was breathing hard by the timeshe reached the narrow crooked60 unpaved streets between the hills. The Bottom had a stench to it, astink of pigsties61 and stables and tanner’s sheds, mixed in with the sour smell of winesinks and cheapwhorehouses. Arya wound her way through the maze dully. It was not until she caught a whiff ofbubbling brown coming through a pot-shop door that she realized her pigeon was gone. It must haveslipped from her belt as she ran, or someone had stolen it and she’d never noticed. For a moment shewanted to cry again. She’d have to walk all the way back to the Street of Flour to find another onethat plump.
Far across the city, bells began to ring.
Arya glanced up, listening, wondering what the ringing meant this time.
“What’s this now?” a fat man called from the pot-shop.
“The bells again, gods ha’mercy,” wailed62 an old woman.
A red-haired whore in a wisp of painted silk pushed open a second-story window. “Is it the boyking that’s died now?” she shouted down, leaning out over the street. “Ah, that’s a boy for you, theynever last long.” As she laughed, a naked man slid his arms around her from behind, biting her neckand rubbing the heavy white breasts that hung loose beneath her shift.
“Stupid slut,” the fat man shouted up. “The king’s not dead, that’s only summoning bells. Onetower tolling63. When the king dies, they ring every bell in the city.”
“Here, quit your biting, or I’ll ring your bells,” the woman in the window said to the man behindher, pushing him off with an elbow. “So who is it died, if not the king?”
“It’s a summoning,” the fat man repeated.
Two boys close to Arya’s age scampered64 past, splashing through a puddle42. The old woman cursedthem, but they kept right on going. Other people were moving too, heading up the hill to see what thenoise was about. Arya ran after the slower boy. “Where you going?” she shouted when she was rightbehind him. “What’s happening?”
He glanced back without slowing. “The gold cloaks is carryin’ him to the sept.”
“Who?” she yelled, running hard.
“The Hand! They’ll be taking his head off, Buu says.”
A passing wagon24 had left a deep rut in the street. The boy leapt over, but Arya never saw it. Shetripped and fell, face first, scraping her knee open on a stone and smashing her fingers when herhands hit the hard-packed earth. Needle tangled65 between her legs. She sobbed66 as she struggled to herknees. The thumb of her left hand was covered with blood. When she sucked on it, she saw that halfthe thumbnail was gone, ripped off in her fall. Her hands throbbed67, and her knee was all bloody68 too.
“Make way!” someone shouted from the cross street. “Make way for my lords of Redwyne!” Itwas all Arya could do to get out of the road before they ran her down, four guardsmen on hugehorses, pounding past at a gallop69. They wore checked cloaks, blue-and-burgundy. Behind them, twoyoung lordlings rode side by side on a pair of chestnut70 mares alike as peas in a pod. Arya had seenthem in the bailey a hundred times; the Redwyne twins, Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, homely71 youthswith orange hair and square, freckled72 faces. Sansa and Jeyne Poole used to call them Ser Horror andSer Slobber, and giggle73 whenever they caught sight of them. They did not look funny now.
Everyone was moving in the same direction, all in a hurry to see what the ringing was all about.
The bells seemed louder now, clanging, calling. Arya joined the stream of people. Her thumb hurt sobad where the nail had broken that it was all she could do not to cry. She bit her lip as she limpedalong, listening to the excited voices around her.
“—the King’s Hand, Lord Stark74. They’re carrying him up to Baelor’s Sept.”
“I heard he was dead.”
“Soon enough, soon enough. Here, I got me a silver stag says they lop his head off.”
“Past time, the traitor75.” The man spat76.
Arya struggled to find a voice. “He never—” she started, but she was only a child and they talkedright over her.
“Fool! They ain’t neither going to lop him. Since when do they knick traitors77 on the steps of theGreat Sept?”
“Well, they don’t mean to anoint him no knight78. I heard it was Stark killed old King Robert. Slithis throat in the woods, and when they found him, he stood there cool as you please and said it wassome old boar did for His Grace.”
“Ah, that’s not true, it was his own brother did him, that Renly, him with his gold antlers.”
“You shut your lying mouth, woman. You don’t know what you’re saying, his lordship’s a finetrue man.”
By the time they reached the Street of the Sisters, they were packed in shoulder to shoulder. Aryalet the human current carry her along, up to the top of Visenya’s Hill. The white marble plaza79 was asolid mass of people, all yammering excitedly at each other and straining to get closer to the GreatSept of Baelor. The bells were very loud here.
Arya squirmed through the press, ducking between the legs of horses and clutching tight to hersword stick. From the middle of the crowd, all she could see were arms and legs and stomachs, andthe seven slender towers of the sept looming80 overhead. She spotted81 a wood wagon and thought toclimb up on the back where she might be able to see, but others had the same idea. The teamstercursed at them and drove them off with a crack of his whip.
Arya grew frantic82. Forcing her way to the front of the crowd, she was shoved up against the stoneof a plinth. She looked up at Baelor the Blessed, the septon king. Sliding her stick sword through herbelt, Arya began to climb. Her broken thumbnail left smears83 of blood on the painted marble, but she made it up, and wedged herself in between the king’s feet.
That was when she saw her father.
Lord Eddard stood on the High Septon’s pulpit outside the doors of the sept, supported betweentwo of the gold cloaks. He was dressed in a rich grey velvet84 doublet with a white wolf sewn on thefront in beads85, and a grey wool cloak trimmed with fur, but he was thinner than Arya had ever seenhim, his long face drawn86 with pain. He was not standing so much as being held up; the cast over hisbroken leg was grey and rotten.
The High Septon himself stood behind him, a squat87 man, grey with age and ponderously88 fat,wearing long white robes and an immense crown of spun89 gold and crystal that wreathed his head withrainbows whenever he moved.
Clustered around the doors of the sept, in front of the raised marble pulpit, were a knot of knightsand high lords. Joffrey was prominent among them, his raiment all crimson, silk and satin patternedwith prancing91 stags and roaring lions, a gold crown on his head. His queen mother stood beside himin a black mourning gown slashed92 with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. Aryarecognized the Hound, wearing a snowy white cloak over his dark grey armor, with four of theKingsguard around him. She saw Varys the eunuch gliding93 among the lords in soft slippers94 and apatterned damask robe, and she thought the short man with the silvery cape21 and pointed95 beard mightbe the one who had once fought a duel96 for Mother.
And there in their midst was Sansa, dressed in sky-blue silk, with her long auburn hair washed andcurled and silver bracelets97 on her wrists. Arya scowled98, wondering what her sister was doing here,why she looked so happy.
A long line of gold-cloaked spearmen held back the crowd, commanded by a stout99 man in elaboratearmor, all black lacquer and gold filigree100. His cloak had the metallic101 shimmer102 of true cloth-of-gold.
When the bell ceased to toll19, a quiet slowly settled across the great plaza, and her father lifted hishead and began to speak, his voice so thin and weak she could scarcely make him out. People behindher began to shout out, “What?” and “Louder!” The man in the black-and-gold armor stepped upbehind Father and prodded103 him sharply. You leave him alone! Arya wanted to shout, but she knew noone would listen. She chewed her lip.
Her father raised his voice and began again. “I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Hand ofthe King,” he said more loudly, his voice carrying across the plaza, “and I come before you to confessmy treason in the sight of gods and men.”
“NO,” Arya whimpered. Below her, the crowd began to scream and shout. Taunts104 and obscenitiesfilled the air. Sansa had hidden her face in her hands.
Her father raised his voice still higher, straining to be heard. “I betrayed the faith of my king andthe trust of my friend, Robert,” he shouted. “I swore to defend and protect his children, yet before hisblood was cold, I plotted to depose105 and murder his son and seize the throne for myself. Let the HighSepton and Baelor the Beloved and the Seven bear witness to the truth of what I say: JoffreyBaratheon is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, and by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the SevenKingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”
A stone came sailing out of the crowd. Arya cried out as she saw her father hit. The gold cloakskept him from falling. Blood ran down his face from a deep gash106 across his forehead. More stonesfollowed. One struck the guard to Father’s left. Another went clanging off the breastplate of theknight in the black-and-gold armor. Two of the Kingsguard stepped in front of Joffrey and the queen,protecting them with their shields.
Her hand slid beneath her cloak and found Needle in its sheath. She tightened107 her fingers aroundthe grip, squeezing as hard as she had ever squeezed anything. Please, gods, keep him safe, sheprayed. Don’t let them hurt my father.
The High Septon knelt before Joffrey and his mother. “As we sin, so do we suffer,” he intoned, in adeep swelling108 voice much louder than Father’s. “This man has confessed his crimes in the sight ofgods and men, here in this holy place.” Rainbows danced around his head as he lifted his hands inentreaty. “The gods are just, yet Blessed Baelor taught us that they are also merciful. What shall bedone with this traitor, Your Grace?”
A thousand voices were screaming, but Arya never heard them. Prince Joffrey … no, KingJoffrey … stepped out from behind the shields of his Kingsguard. “My mother bids me let LordEddard take the black, and Lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father.” He looked straight at Sansa then, and smiled, and for a moment Arya thought that the gods had heard her prayer, until Joffreyturned back to the crowd and said, “But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am yourking, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”
rking, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!”
The crowd roared, and Arya felt the statue of Baelor rock as they surged against it. The HighSepton clutched at the king’s cape, and Varys came rushing over waving his arms, and even the queenwas saying something to him, but Joffrey shook his head. Lords and knights90 moved aside as hestepped through, tall and fleshless, a skeleton in iron mail, the King’s Justice. Dimly, as if from faroff, Arya heard her sister scream. Sansa had fallen to her knees, sobbing hysterically109. Ser Ilyn Payneclimbed the steps of the pulpit.
Arya wriggled110 between Baelor’s feet and threw herself into the crowd, drawing Needle. She landedon a man in a butcher’s apron111, knocking him to the ground. Immediately someone slammed into herback and she almost went down herself. Bodies closed in around her, stumbling and pushing,trampling on the poor butcher. Arya slashed at them with Needle.
High atop the pulpit, Ser Ilyn Payne gestured and the knight in black-and-gold gave a command.
The gold cloaks flung Lord Eddard to the marble, with his head and chest out over the edge.
“Here, you!” an angry voice shouted at Arya, but she bowled past, shoving people aside,squirming between them, slamming into anyone in her way. A hand fumbled112 at her leg and shehacked at it, kicked at shins. A woman stumbled and Arya ran up her back, cutting to both sides, but itwas no good, no good, there were too many people, no sooner did she make a hole than it closedagain. Someone buffeted113 her aside. She could still hear Sansa screaming.
Ser Ilyn drew a two-handed greatsword from the scabbard on his back. As he lifted the blade abovehis head, sunlight seemed to ripple114 and dance down the dark metal, glinting off an edge sharper thanany razor. Ice, she thought, he has Ice! Her tears streamed down her face, blinding her.
And then a hand shot out of the press and closed round her arm like a wolf trap, so hard that Needlewent flying from her hand. Arya was wrenched115 off her feet. She would have fallen if he hadn’t heldher up, as easy as if she were a doll. A face pressed close to hers, long black hair and tangled beardand rotten teeth. “Don’t look!” a thick voice snarled116 at her.
“I … I … I …” Arya sobbed.
The old man shook her so hard her teeth rattled117. “Shut your mouth and close your eyes, boy.”
Dimly, as if from far away, she heard a … a noise … a soft sighing sound, as if a million people hadlet out their breath at once. The old man’s fingers dug into her arm, stiff as iron. “Look at me. Yes,that’s the way of it, at me.” Sour wine perfumed his breath. “Remember, boy?”
It was the smell that did it. Arya saw the matted greasy118 hair, the patched, dusty black cloak thatcovered his twisted shoulders, the hard black eyes squinting119 at her. And she remembered the blackbrother who had come to visit her father.
“Know me now, do you? There’s a bright boy.” He spat. “They’re done here. You’ll be comingwith me, and you’ll be keeping your mouth shut.” When she started to reply, he shook her again, evenharder. “Shut, I said.”
The plaza was beginning to empty. The press dissolved around them as people drifted back to theirlives. But Arya’s life was gone. Numb120, she trailed along beside … Yoren, yes, his name is Yoren. Shedid not recall him finding Needle, until he handed the sword back to her. “Hope you can use that,boy.”
“I’m not—” she started.
He shoved her into a doorway121, thrust dirty fingers through her hair, and gave it a twist, yanking herhead back. “—not a smart boy, that what you mean to say?”
He had a knife in his other hand.
As the blade flashed toward her face, Arya threw herself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching122 herhead from side to side, but he had her by the hair, so strong, she could feel her scalp tearing, and onher lips the salt taste of tears.
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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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catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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tarts
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| n.果馅饼( tart的名词复数 )；轻佻的女人；妓女；小妞 | |
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pushcart
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| n.手推车 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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warily
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| adv.留心地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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hip
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| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
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flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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ruptured
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| v.（使）破裂( rupture的过去式和过去分词 )；（使体内组织等）断裂；使（友好关系）破裂；使绝交 | |
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tolled
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| 鸣钟（toll的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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toll
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| n.过路(桥)费；损失，伤亡人数；v.敲(钟) | |
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fleas
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| n.跳蚤( flea的名词复数 )；爱财如命；没好气地（拒绝某人的要求） | |
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21
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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24
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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25
treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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alleys
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| 胡同，小巷( alley的名词复数 )； 小径 | |
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27
stew
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| n.炖汤，焖，烦恼；v.炖汤，焖，忧虑 | |
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barley
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| n.大麦，大麦粒 | |
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29
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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30
turnip
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| n.萝卜，芜菁 | |
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31
bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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32
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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33
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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34
orchards
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| （通常指围起来的）果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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35
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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36
dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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37
whooping
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| 发嗬嗬声的，发咳声的 | |
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38
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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39
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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40
hoops
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| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
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41
puddles
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| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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42
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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43
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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44
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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45
gull
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| n.鸥；受骗的人；v.欺诈 | |
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46
galleys
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| n.平底大船，战舰( galley的名词复数 )；（船上或航空器上的）厨房 | |
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47
galley
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| n.（飞机或船上的）厨房单层甲板大帆船；军舰舰长用的大划艇； | |
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48
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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49
wharfs
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| 码头，停泊处 | |
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50
hulls
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| 船体( hull的名词复数 )； 船身； 外壳； 豆荚 | |
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51
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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52
oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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53
pier
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| n.码头；桥墩，桥柱；[建]窗间壁，支柱 | |
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54
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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55
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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56
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
dicing
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| n.掷骰子，（皮革上的）菱形装饰v.将…切成小方块，切成丁（ dice的现在分词 ） | |
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59
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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61
pigsties
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| n.猪圈，脏房间( pigsty的名词复数 ) | |
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62
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
tolling
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| [财]来料加工 | |
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64
scampered
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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65
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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66
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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67
throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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68
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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69
gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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70
chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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71
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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72
freckled
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| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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73
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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74
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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75
traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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76
spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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77
traitors
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| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
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78
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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79
plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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80
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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81
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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82
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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83
smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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84
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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85
beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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86
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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87
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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88
ponderously
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89
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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90
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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91
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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92
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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93
gliding
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| v. 滑翔 adj. 滑动的 | |
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94
slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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95
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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96
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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97
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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98
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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100
filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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101
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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102
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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103
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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104
taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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105
depose
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| vt.免职；宣誓作证 | |
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106
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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107
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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108
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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109
hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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110
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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111
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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112
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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113
buffeted
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| 反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 )； 连续猛击； 打来打去； 推来搡去 | |
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114
ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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115
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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116
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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117
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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118
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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119
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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120
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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121
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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122
wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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