“I will,” she lied. If she did any such thing, Weese would beat her bloody¹. Lucan could deliver his own insults.  The longsword was a lot heavier than Needle had been, but Arya liked the feel of it. The weight of steel in her hands made her feel stronger. Maybe I’m not a water dancer yet, but I’m not a mouse either. A mouse couldn’t use a sword but I can. The gates were open, soldiers coming and going, drays rolling in empty and going out creaking and swaying under their loads. She thought about going to the stables and telling them that Ser Lyonel wanted a new horse. She had the paper, the stableboys wouldn’t be able to read it any better than Lucan had. I could take the horse and the sword and just ride out. If the guards tried to stop me I’d show them the paper and say I was bringing everything to Ser Lyonel. She had no notion what Ser Lyonel looked like or where to find him, though. If they questioned her, they’d know, and then Weese... Weese...  As she chewed her lip, trying not to think about how it would feel to have her feet cut off, a group of archers³ in leather jerkins and iron helms went past, their bows slung⁴ across their shoulders. Arya heard snatches of their talk.  “Giants I tell you, he’s got giants twenty foot tall come down from beyond the Wall, follow him like dogs... “  “...not natural, coming on them so fast, in the night and all. He’s more wolf than man, all them Starks are... “  “Shit on your wolves and giants, the boy’d piss his pants if he knew we was coming. He wasn’t man enough to march on Harrenhal, was he? Ran Vother way, didn’t he? He’d run now if he knew what was best for him.”  “So you say, but might be the boy knows something we don’t, maybe it’s us ought to be run...”  Yes, Arya thought. Yes, it’s you who ought to run, you and Lord Tywin and the Mountain and Ser Addam and Ser Amory and stupid Ser Lyonel whoever he is, all of you better run or my brother will kill you, he’s a Stark⁵, he’s more wolf than man, and so am I.  “Weasel.” Weese’s voice cracked like a whip. She never saw where he came from, but suddenly he was right in front of her. “Give me that. Took you long enough.” He snatched the sword from her fingers, and dealt her a stinging slap with the back of his hand. “Next time be quicker about it.”  For a moment she had been a wolf again, but Weese’s slap took it all away and left her with nothing but the taste of her own blood in her mouth. She’d bitten her tongue when he hit her. She hated him for that.  “You want another?” Weese demanded. “You’ll get it too. I’ll have none of your

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