The Bull shouted, “Behind you,” and Arya spun¹. Hot Pie was on his knees, his fist closing around a big jagged rock. She let him throw it, ducking her head as it sailed past. Then she flew at him. He raised a hand and she hit it, and then his cheek, and then his knee. He grabbed for her, and she danced aside and bounced the wood off the back of his head. He fell down and got up and stumbled after her, his red face all smeared² with dirt and blood. Arya slid into a water dancer’s stance and waited. When he came close enough, she lunged, right between his legs, so hard that if her wooden sword had had a point it would have come out between his butt³ cheeks.  By the time Yoren pulled her off him, Hot Pie was sprawled⁴ out on the ground with his breeches brown and smelly, crying as Arya whapped him over and over and over. “Enough,” the black brother roared, prying⁵ the stick sword from her fingers, “you want to kill the fool?” When Lommy and some others started to squeal⁶, the old man turned on them too. “Shut your mouths, or I’ll be shutting them for you. Any more o’ this, I’ll tie you lot behind the wagons⁸ and drag you to the Wall.” He spat⁹. “And that goes twice for you, Arry. You come with me, boy. Now”  They were all looking at her, even the three chained and manacled in the back of the wagon⁷. The fat one snapped his pointy teeth together and hissed¹⁰, but Arya ignored him.  The old man dragged her well off the road into a

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