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- Джордж Мартин
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It
was
the
biggest
tree
Jon
Snow
had
ever
seen
,
the
trunk
near
eight
feet
wide
,
the
branches
spreading
so
far
that
the
entire
village
was
shaded
beneath
their
canopy
.
The
size
did
not
disturb
him
so
much
as
the
face
.
.
.
the
mouth
especially
,
no
simple
carved
slash
,
but
a
jagged
hollow
large
enough
to
swallow
a
sheep
.
Those
are
not
sheep
bones
,
though
.
Nor
is
that
a
sheep
’
s
skull
in
the
ashes
.
"
An
old
tree
.
"
Mormont
sat
his
horse
,
frowning
.
"
Old
,
"
his
raven
agreed
from
his
shoulder
.
"
Old
,
old
,
old
.
"
"
And
powerful
.
"
Jon
could
feel
the
power
.
Thoren
Smallwood
dismounted
beside
the
trunk
,
dark
in
his
plate
and
mail
.
"
Look
at
that
face
.
Small
wonder
men
feared
them
,
when
they
first
came
to
Westeros
.
I
’
d
like
to
take
an
axe
to
the
bloody
thing
myself
.
"
Jon
said
,
"
My
lord
father
believed
no
man
could
tell
a
lie
in
front
of
a
heart
tree
.
The
old
gods
know
when
men
are
lying
.
"
"
My
father
believed
the
same
,
"
said
the
Old
Bear
.
"
Let
me
have
a
look
at
that
skull
.
"
Jon
dismounted
.
Slung
across
his
back
in
a
black
leather
shoulder
sheath
was
Longclaw
,
the
hand
-
and
-
a
-
half
bastard
blade
the
Old
Bear
had
given
him
for
saving
his
life
.
A
bastard
sword
for
a
bastard
,
the
men
joked
.
The
hilt
had
been
fashioned
new
for
him
,
adorned
with
a
wolf
’
s
-
head
pommel
in
pale
stone
,
but
the
blade
itself
was
Valyrian
steel
,
old
and
light
and
deadly
-
sharp
.
He
knelt
and
reached
a
gloved
hand
down
into
the
maw
.
The
inside
of
the
hollow
was
red
with
dried
sap
and
blackened
by
fire
.
Beneath
the
skull
he
saw
another
,
smaller
,
the
jaw
broken
off
.
It
was
half
-
buried
in
ash
and
bits
of
bone
.
