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- Джордж Мартин
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"
He
’
s
off
hunting
.
"
Ghost
did
not
like
to
travel
with
the
column
,
but
he
would
not
be
far
.
When
they
made
camp
for
the
night
,
he
’
d
find
his
way
to
Jon
at
the
Lord
Commander
’
s
tent
.
"
Fishing
,
I
’
d
call
it
,
in
this
wet
,
"
Dywen
said
.
"
My
mother
always
said
rain
was
good
for
growing
crops
,
"
Grenn
put
in
hopefully
.
"
Aye
,
a
good
crop
of
mildew
,
"
Dywen
said
.
"
The
best
thing
about
a
rain
like
this
,
it
saves
a
man
from
taking
baths
.
"
He
made
a
clacking
sound
on
his
wooden
teeth
.
"
Buckwell
’
s
found
Craster
,
"
Jon
told
them
.
"
Had
he
lost
him
?
"
Dywen
chuckled
.
"
See
that
you
young
bucks
don
’
t
go
nosing
about
Craster
’
s
wives
,
you
hear
?
"
Jon
smiled
.
"
Want
them
all
for
yourself
,
Dywen
?
"
Dywen
clacked
his
teeth
some
more
.
"
Might
be
I
do
.
Craster
’
s
got
ten
fingers
and
one
cock
,
so
he
don
’
t
count
but
to
eleven
.
He
’
d
never
miss
a
couple
.
"
"
How
many
wives
does
he
have
,
truly
?
"
Grenn
asked
.
"
More
’
n
you
ever
will
,
brother
.
Well
,
it
’
s
not
so
hard
when
you
breed
your
own
.
There
’
s
your
beast
,
Snow
.
"