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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 221/853
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"
Then
might
be
he
’
s
not
so
stupid
as
he
seems
.
"
Osha
was
always
wary
around
the
direwolves
.
The
day
she
was
taken
,
Summer
and
Grey
Wind
between
them
had
torn
three
wildlings
to
bloody
pieces
.
"
Or
might
be
he
is
.
And
that
tastes
of
trouble
too
.
"
She
tied
up
her
hair
.
"
You
have
more
of
them
wolf
dreams
?
"
"
No
.
"
He
did
not
like
to
talk
about
the
dreams
.
"
A
prince
should
lie
better
than
that
.
"
Osha
laughed
.
"
Well
,
your
dreams
are
your
business
.
Mine
’
s
in
the
kitchens
,
and
I
’
d
best
be
getting
back
before
Gage
starts
to
shouting
and
waving
that
big
wooden
spoon
of
his
.
By
your
leave
,
my
prince
.
"
She
should
never
have
talked
about
the
wolf
dreams
,
Bran
thought
as
Hodor
carried
him
up
the
steps
to
his
bedchamber
.
He
fought
against
sleep
as
long
as
he
could
,
but
in
the
end
it
took
him
as
it
always
did
.
On
this
night
he
dreamed
of
the
weirwood
.
It
was
looking
at
him
with
its
deep
red
eyes
,
calling
to
him
with
its
twisted
wooden
mouth
,
and
from
its
pale
branches
the
three
-
eyed
crow
came
flapping
,
pecking
at
his
face
and
crying
his
name
in
a
voice
as
sharp
as
swords
.
The
blast
of
horns
woke
him
.
Bran
pushed
himself
onto
his
side
,
grateful
for
the
reprieve
.
He
heard
horses
and
boisterous
shouting
.
More
guests
have
come
,
and
half
-
drunk
by
the
noise
of
them
.
Grasping
his
bars
he
pulled
himself
from
the
bed
and
over
to
the
window
seat
.
On
their
banner
was
a
giant
in
shattered
chains
that
told
him
that
these
were
Umber
men
,
down
from
the
northlands
beyond
the
Last
River
.
The
next
day
two
of
them
came
together
to
audience
;
the
Greatjon
’
s
uncles
,
blustery
men
in
the
winter
of
their
days
with
beards
as
white
as
the
bearskin
cloaks
they
wore
.
A
crow
had
once
taken
Mors
for
dead
and
pecked
out
his
eye
,
so
he
wore
a
chunk
of
dragonglass
in
its
stead
.
As
Old
Nan
told
the
tale
,
he
’
d
grabbed
the
crow
in
his
fist
and
bitten
its
head
off
,
so
they
named
him
Crowfood
.
She
would
never
tell
Bran
why
his
gaunt
brother
Hother
was
called
Whoresbane
.
No
sooner
had
they
been
seated
than
Mors
asked
for
leave
to
wed
Lady
Hornwood
.
"
The
Greatjon
’
s
the
Young
Wolf
’
s
strong
right
hand
,
all
know
that
to
be
true
.
Who
better
to
protect
the
widow
’
s
lands
than
an
Umber
,
and
what
Umber
better
than
me
?
"
"
Lady
Donella
is
still
grieving
,
"
Maester
Luwin
said
.
"
I
have
a
cure
for
grief
under
my
furs
.
"
Mors
laughed
.
Ser
Rodrik
thanked
him
courteously
and
promised
to
bring
the
matter
before
the
lady
and
the
king
.
