They sighted her in the narrows between the Isle2 of Cedars3 and the rugged4 hills of the Astapori hinterlands, just as the black priest Moqorro had said they would. “Ghiscari,” Longwater Pyke shouted down from the crow’s nest. Victarion Greyjoy watched her sail grow larger from the forecastle. Soon he could make out her oars5 rising and falling, and the long white wake behind her shining in the moonlight, like a scar across the sea.
Not a true warship6, Victarion realized. A trading galley7, and a big one. She would make a fine prize. He signaled to his captains to give chase. They would board this ship and take her.
The captain of the galley had realized his peril8 by then. He changed course for the west, making for the Isle of Cedars, perhaps hoping to shelter in some hidden cove10 or run his pursuers onto the jagged rocks along the island’s northeast coast. His galley was heavy laden11, though, and the ironborn had the wind. Grief and Iron Victory cut across the quarry’s course, whilst swift Sparrowhawk and agile13 Fingerdancer swept behind her. Even then the Ghiscari captain did not strike his banners. By the time Lamentation14 came alongside the prey, raking her larboard side and splintering her oars, both ships were so close to the haunted ruins of Ghozai that they could hear the monkeys chattering15 as the first dawn light washed over the city’s broken pyramids.
Their prize was named Ghiscari Dawn, the galley’s captain said when he was delivered to Victarion in chains. She was out of New Ghis and returning there by way of Yunkai after trading at Meereen. The man spoke16 no decent tongue but only a guttural Ghiscari, full of growls17 and hisses18, as ugly a language as Victarion Greyjoy had ever heard. Moqorro translated the captain’s words into the Common Tongue of Westeros. The war for Meereen was won, the captain claimed; the dragon queen was dead, and a Ghiscari by the name of Hizdak ruled the city now.
Victarion had his tongue torn out for lying. Daenerys Targaryen was not dead, Moqorro assured him; his red god R’hllor had shown him the queen’s face in his sacred fires. The captain could not abide19 lies, so he had the Ghiscari captain bound hand and foot and thrown overboard, a sacrifice to the Drowned God. “Your red god will have his due,” he promised Moqorro, “but the seas are ruled by the Drowned God.”
“There are no gods but R’hllor and the Other, whose name may not be said.” The sorcerer priest was garbed20 in somber21 black, but for a hint of golden thread at collar, cuffs22, and hem23. There was no red cloth aboard the Iron Victory, but it was not meet that Moqorro go about in the salt-stained rags he had been wearing when the Vole fished him from the sea, so Victarion had commanded Tom Tidewood to sew new robes for him from whatever was at hand, and had even donated some of his own tunics24 to the purpose. Of black and gold those were, for the arms of House Greyjoy showed a golden kraken on a black field, and the banners and sails of their ships displayed the same. The crimson-and-scarlet robes of the red priests were alien to the ironborn, but Victarion had hoped his men might accept Moqorro more easily once clad in Greyjoy colors.
He hoped in vain. Clad in black from head to heel, with a mask of red-and-orange flames tattooed25 across his face, the priest appeared more sinister26 than ever. The crew shunned27 him when he walked the deck, and men would spit if his shadow chanced to fall upon them. Even the Vole, who had fished the red priest from the sea, had urged Victarion to give him to the Drowned God.
But Moqorro knew these strange shores in ways the ironborn did not, and secrets of the dragonkind as well. The Crow’s Eye keeps wizards, why shouldn’t I? His black sorcerer was more puissant28 than all of Euron’s three, even if you threw them in a pot and boiled them down to one. The Damphair might disapprove29, but Aeron and his pieties30 were far away.
So Victarion closed his burned hand into a mighty31 fist, and said, “Ghiscari Dawn is no fit name for a ship of the Iron Fleet. For you, wizard, I shall rename her Red God’s Wroth.”
His wizard bowed his head. “As the captain says.” And the ships of the Iron Fleet numbered four-and-fifty once again.
The next day a sudden squall descended32 on them. Moqorro had predicted that as well. When the rains moved on, three ships were found to have vanished. Victarion had no way to know whether they had foundered34, run aground, or been blown off course. “They know where we are going,” he told his crew. “If they are still afloat, we will meet again.” The iron captain had no time to wait for laggards35. Not with his bride encircled by her enemies. The most beautiful woman in the world has urgent need of my axe36.
Besides, Moqorro assured him that the three ships were not lost. Each night, the sorcerer priest would kindle37 a fire on the forecastle of the Iron Victory and stalk around the flames, chanting prayers. The firelight made his black skin shine like polished onyx, and sometimes Victarion could swear that the flames tattooed on his face were dancing too, twisting and bending, melting into one another, their colors changing with every turn of the priest’s head.
“The black priest is calling demons38 down on us,” one oarsman was heard to say. When that was reported to Victarion, he had the man scourged39 until his back was blood from shoulders to buttocks. So when Moqorro said, “Your lost lambs will return to the flock off the isle called Yaros,” the captain said, “Pray that they do, priest. Or you may be the next to taste the whip.”
The sea was blue and green and the sun blazing down from an empty blue sky when the Iron Fleet took its second prize, in the waters north and west of Astapor.
This time it was a Myrish cog named Dove, on her way to Yunkai by way of New Ghis with a cargo40 of carpets, sweet green wines, and Myrish lace. Her captain owned a Myrish eye that made far-off things look close—two glass lenses in a series of brass41 tubes, cunningly wrought42 so that each section slid into the next, until the eye was no longer than a dirk. Victarion claimed that treasure for himself. The cog he renamed Shrike. Her crew would be kept for ransom43, the captain decreed. They were neither slaves nor slavers, but free Myrmen and seasoned sailors. Such men were worth good coin. Sailing out of Myr, the Dove brought them no fresh news of Meereen or Daenerys, only stale reports of Dothraki horsemen along the Rhoyne, the Golden Company upon the march, and others things Victarion already knew.
“What do you see?” the captain asked his black priest that night, as Moqorro stood before his nightfire. “What awaits us on the morrow? More rain?” It smelled like rain to him.
“Grey skies and strong winds,” Moqorro said. “No rain. Behind come the tigers. Ahead awaits your dragon.”
Your dragon. Victarion liked the sound of that. “Tell me something that I do not know, priest.”
“The captain commands, and I obey,” said Moqorro. The crew had taken to calling him the Black Flame, a name fastened on him by Steffar Stammerer44, who could not say “Moqorro.” By any name, the priest had powers. “The coastline here runs west to east,” he told Victarion. “Where it turns north, you will come on two more hares. Swift ones, with many legs.”
And so it came to pass. This time the prey proved to be a pair of galleys45, long and sleek46 and fast. Ralf the Limper was the first to sight them, but they soon outdistanced Woe47 and Forlorn Hope, so Victarion sent Iron Wing, Sparrowhawk, and Kraken’s Kiss to run them down. He had no swifter ships than those three. The pursuit lasted the best part of the day, but in the end both galleys were boarded and taken, after brief but brutal48 fights. They had been running empty, Victarion learned, making for New Ghis to load supplies and weapons for the Ghiscari legions encamped before Meereen … and to bring fresh legionaries to the war, to replace all the men who’d died. “Men slain49 in battle?” asked Victarion. The crews of the galleys denied it; the deaths were from a bloody50 flux51. The pale mare52, they called it. And like the captain of the Ghiscari Dawn, the captains of the galleys repeated the lie that Daenerys Targaryen was dead.
“Give her a kiss for me in whatever hell you find her,” Victarion said. He called for his axe and took their heads off there and then. Afterward53 he put their crews to death as well, saving only the slaves chained to the oars. He broke their chains himself and told them they were now free men and would have the privilege of rowing for the Iron Fleet, an honor that every boy in the Iron Islands dreamed of growing up. “The dragon queen frees slaves and so do I,” he proclaimed.
The galleys he renamed Ghost and Shade. “For I mean them to return and haunt these Yunkishmen,” he told the dusky woman that night after he had taken his pleasure of her. They were close now, and growing closer every day. “We will fall upon them like a thunderbolt,” he said, as he squeezed the woman’s breast. He wondered if this was how his brother Aeron felt when the Drowned God spoke to him. He could almost hear the god’s voice welling up from the depths of the sea. You shall serve me well, my captain, the waves seemed to say. It was for this I made you.
But he would feed the red god too, Moqorro’s fire god. The arm the priest had healed was hideous54 to look upon, pork crackling from elbow to fingertips. Sometimes when Victarion closed his hand the skin would split and smoke, yet the arm was stronger than it had ever been. “Two gods are with me now,” he told the dusky woman. “No foe55 can stand before two gods.” Then he rolled her on her back and took her once again.
When the cliffs of Yaros appeared off their larboard bows, he found his three lost ships waiting for him, just as Moqorro had promised. Victarion gave the priest a golden torque as a reward.
Now he had a choice to make: should he risk the straits, or take the Iron Fleet around the island? The memory of Fair Isle still rankled56 in the iron captain’s memory. Stannis Baratheon had descended on the Iron Fleet from both north and south whilst they were trapped in the channel between the island and the mainland, dealing57 Victarion his most crushing defeat. But sailing around Yaros would cost him precious days. With Yunkai so near, shipping58 in the straits was like to be heavy, but he did not expect to encounter Yunkish warships59 until they were closer to Meereen.
What would the Crow’s Eye do? He brooded on that for a time, then signaled to his captains. “We sail the straits.”
Three more prizes were taken before Yaros dwindled60 off their sterns. A fat galleas fell to the Vole and Grief, and a trading galley to Manfryd Merlyn of Kite. Their holds were packed with trade goods, wines and silks and spices, rare woods and rarer scents61, but the ships themselves were the true prize. Later that same day, a fishing ketch was taken by Seven Skulls62 and Thrall63’s Bane. She was a small, slow, dingy64 thing, hardly worth the effort of boarding. Victarion was displeased65 to hear that it had taken two of his own ships to bring the fishermen to heel. Yet it was from their lips that he heard of the black dragon’s return. “The silver queen is gone,” the ketch’s master told him. “She flew away upon her dragon, beyond the Dothraki sea.”
“Where is this Dothraki sea?” he demanded. “I will sail the Iron Fleet across it and find the queen wherever she may be.”
The fisherman laughed aloud. “That would be a sight worth seeing. The Dothraki sea is made of grass, fool.”
He should not have said that. Victarion took him around the throat with his burned hand and lifted him bodily into the air. Slamming him back against the mast, he squeezed till the Yunkishman’s face turned as black as the fingers digging into his flesh. The man kicked and writhed66 for a while, trying fruitlessly to pry67 loose the captain’s grip. “No man calls Victarion Greyjoy a fool and lives to boast of it.” When he opened his hand, the man’s limp body flopped68 to the deck. Longwater Pyke and Tom Tidewood chucked it over the rail, another offering to the Drowned God.
“Your Drowned God is a demon,” the black priest Moqorro said afterward. “He is no more than a thrall of the Other, the dark god whose name must not be spoken.”
“Take care, priest,” Victarion warned him. “There are godly men aboard this ship who would tear out your tongue for speaking such blasphemies69. Your red god will have his due, I swear it. My word is iron. Ask any of my men.”
The black priest bowed his head. “There is no need. The Lord of Light has shown me your worth, lord Captain. Every night in my fires I glimpse the glory that awaits you.”
Those words pleased Victarion Greyjoy mightily70, as he told the dusky woman that night. “My brother Balon was a great man,” he said, “but I shall do what he could not. The Iron Islands shall be free again, and the Old Way will return. Even Dagon could not do that.” Almost a hundred years had passed since Dagon Greyjoy sat the Seastone Chair, but the ironborn still told tales of his raids and battles. In Dagon’s day a weak king sat the Iron Throne, his rheumy eyes fixed71 across the narrow sea where bastards72 and exiles plotted rebellion. So forth73 from Pyke Lord Dagon sailed, to make the Sunset Sea his own. “He bearded the lion in his den9 and tied the direwolf’s tail in knots, but even Dagon could not defeat the dragons. But I shall make the dragon queen mine own. She will share my bed and bear me many mighty sons.”
That night the ships of the Iron Fleet numbered sixty.
Strange sails grew more common north of Yaros. They were very near to Yunkai, and the coast between the Yellow City and Meereen would be teeming74 with merchantmen and supply ships coming and going, so Victarion took the Iron Fleet out into the deeper waters, beyond the sight of land. Even there they would encounter other vessels75. “Let none escape to give warning to our foes76,” the iron captain commanded. None did.
The sea was green and the sky was grey the morning Grief and Warrior77 Wench and Victarion’s own Iron Victory captured the slaver galley from Yunkai in the waters due north of the Yellow City. In her holds were twenty perfumed boys and four score girls destined78 for the pleasure houses of Lys. Her crew never thought to find peril so close to their home waters, and the ironborn had little trouble taking her. She was named the Willing Maiden79.
Victarion put the slavers to the sword, then sent his men below to unchain the rowers. “You row for me now. Row hard, and you shall prosper80.” The girls he divided amongst his captains. “The Lyseni would have made whores of you,” he told them, “but we have saved you. Now you need only serve one man instead of many. Those who please their captains may be taken as salt wives, an honorable station.” The perfumed boys he wrapped in chains and threw into the sea. They were unnatural81 creatures, and the ship smelled better once cleansed82 of their presence.
For himself, Victarion claimed the seven choicest girls. One had red-gold hair and freckles83 on her teats. One shaved herself all over. One was brown-haired and brown-eyed, shy as a mouse. One had the biggest breasts he had ever seen. The fifth was a little thing, with straight black hair and golden skin. Her eyes were the color of amber84. The sixth was white as milk, with golden rings through her nipples and her nether85 lips, the seventh black as a squid’s ink. The slavers of Yunkai had trained them in the way of the seven sighs, but that was not why Victarion wanted them. His dusky woman was enough to satisfy his appetites until he could reach Meereen and claim his queen. No man had need of candles when the sun awaited him.
The galley he renamed the Slaver’s Scream. With her, the ships of the Iron Fleet numbered one-and-sixty. “Every ship we capture makes us stronger,” Victarion told his ironborn, “but from here it will grow harder. On the morrow or the day after, we are like to meet with warships. We are entering the home waters of Meereen, where the fleets of our foes await us. We will meet with ships from all three Slaver Cities, ships from Tolos and Elyria and New Ghis, even ships from Qarth.” He took care not to mention the green galleys of Old Volantis that surely must be sailing up through the Gulf86 of Grief even as he spoke. “These slavers are feeble things. You have seen how they run before us, heard how they squeal87 when we put them to the sword. Every man of you is worth twenty of them, for only we are made of iron. Remember this when first we next spy some slaver’s sails. Give no quarter and expect none. What need have we of quarter? We are the ironborn, and two gods look over us. We will seize their ships, smash their hopes, and turn their bay to blood.”
A great cry went up at his words. The captain answered with a nod, grim-faced, then called for the seven girls he had claimed to be brought on deck, the loveliest of all those found aboard the Willing Maiden. He kissed them each upon the cheeks and told them of the honor that awaited them, though they did not understand his words. Then he had them put aboard the fishing ketch that they had captured, cut her loose, and had her set afire.
“With this gift of innocence88 and beauty, we honor both the gods,” he proclaimed, as the warships of the Iron Fleet rowed past the burning ketch. “Let these girls be reborn in light, undefiled by mortal lust89, or let them descend33 to the Drowned God’s watery90 halls, to feast and dance and laugh until the seas dry up.”
Near the end, before the smoking ketch was swallowed by the sea, the cries of the seven sweetlings changed to joyous91 song, it seemed to Victarion Greyjoy. A great wind came up then, a wind that filled their sails and swept them north and east and north again, toward Meereen and its pyramids of many-colored bricks. On wings of song I fly to you, Daenerys, the iron captain thought.
That night, for the first time, he brought forth the dragon horn that the Crow’s Eye had found amongst the smoking wastes of great Valyria. A twisted thing it was, six feet long from end to end, gleaming black and banded with red gold and dark Valyrian steel. Euron’s hellhorn. Victarion ran his hand along it. The horn was as warm and smooth as the dusky woman’s thighs92, and so shiny that he could see a twisted likeness93 of his own features in its depths. Strange sorcerous writings had been cut into the bands that girded it. “Valyrian glyphs,” Moqorro called them.
That much Victarion had known. “What do they say?”
“Much and more.” The black priest pointed94 to one golden band. “Here the horn is named. ‘I am Dragonbinder,’ it says. Have you ever heard it sound?”
“Once.” One of his brother’s mongrels had sounded the hellhorn at the kingsmoot on Old Wyk. A monster of a man he had been, huge and shaven-headed, with rings of gold and jet and jade96 around arms thick with muscle, and a great hawk12 tattooed across his chest. “The sound it made … it burned, somehow. As if my bones were on fire, searing my flesh from within. Those writings glowed red-hot, then white-hot and painful to look upon. It seemed as if the sound would never end. It was like some long scream. A thousand screams, all melted into one.”
“And the man who blew the horn, what of him?”
“He died. There were blisters97 on his lips, after. His bird was bleeding too.” The captain thumped98 his chest. “The hawk, just here. Every feather dripping blood. I heard the man was all burned up inside, but that might just have been some tale.”
“A true tale.” Moqorro turned the hellhorn, examining the queer letters that crawled across a second of the golden bands. “Here it says, ‘No mortal man shall sound me and live.’ ”
Bitterly Victarion brooded on the treachery of brothers. Euron’s gifts are always poisoned. “The Crow’s Eye swore this horn would bind95 dragons to my will. But how will that serve me if the price is death?”
“Your brother did not sound the horn himself. Nor must you.” Moqorro pointed to the band of steel. “Here. ‘Blood for fire, fire for blood.’ Who blows the hellhorn matters not. The dragons will come to the horn’s master. You must claim the horn. With blood.”
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收听单词发音
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1
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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isle
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| n.小岛，岛 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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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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warship
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| n.军舰，战舰 | |
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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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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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lamentation
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| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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growls
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的第三人称单数 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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hisses
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| 嘶嘶声( hiss的名词复数 ) | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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garbed
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| v.（尤指某类人穿的特定）服装，衣服，制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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tunics
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| n.（动植物的）膜皮( tunic的名词复数 )；束腰宽松外衣；一套制服的短上衣；（天主教主教等穿的）短祭袍 | |
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tattooed
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| v.刺青，文身( tattoo的过去式和过去分词 )；连续有节奏地敲击；作连续有节奏的敲击 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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shunned
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| v.避开，回避，避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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puissant
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| adj.强有力的 | |
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disapprove
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| v.不赞成，不同意，不批准 | |
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pieties
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| 虔诚，虔敬( piety的名词复数 ) | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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foundered
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| v.创始人( founder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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laggards
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| n.落后者( laggard的名词复数 ) | |
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axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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demons
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| n.恶人( demon的名词复数 )；恶魔；精力过人的人；邪念 | |
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scourged
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| 鞭打( scourge的过去式和过去分词 )； 惩罚，压迫 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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42
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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43
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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stammerer
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| n.口吃的人；结巴 | |
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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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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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49
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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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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51
flux
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| n.流动；不断的改变 | |
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52
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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53
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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54
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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55
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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56
rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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58
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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59
warships
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| 军舰，战舰( warship的名词复数 )； 舰只 | |
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dwindled
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| v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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61
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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skulls
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| 颅骨( skull的名词复数 )； 脑袋； 脑子； 脑瓜 | |
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63
thrall
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| n.奴隶；奴隶制 | |
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64
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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66
writhed
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
pry
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| vi.窥(刺)探，打听；vt.撬动(开，起) | |
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68
flopped
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| v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的过去式和过去分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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69
blasphemies
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| n.对上帝的亵渎，亵渎的言词[行为]( blasphemy的名词复数 )；侮慢的言词（或行为） | |
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mightily
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| ad.强烈地；非常地 | |
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71
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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bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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73
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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75
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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76
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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prosper
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| v.成功，兴隆，昌盛；使成功，使昌隆，繁荣 | |
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81
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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82
cleansed
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| 弄干净，清洗( cleanse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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83
freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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84
amber
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| n.琥珀；琥珀色；adj.琥珀制的 | |
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85
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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86
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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87
squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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88
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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89
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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90
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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91
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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92
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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93
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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94
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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95
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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96
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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97
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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98
thumped
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| v.重击， （指心脏）急速跳动( thump的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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