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- Джордж Мартин
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"
I
know
all
the
names
.
Save
your
breath
.
"
He
walked
away
,
Ghost
at
his
side
.
The
rain
had
dwindled
to
a
thin
drizzle
by
the
time
he
reached
the
gate
.
Dusk
would
be
on
them
soon
,
followed
by
another
wet
dark
dismal
night
.
The
clouds
would
hide
moon
and
stars
and
Mormont
’
s
Torch
,
turning
the
woods
black
as
pitch
.
Every
piss
would
be
an
adventure
,
if
not
quite
of
the
sort
Jon
Snow
had
once
envisioned
.
Out
under
the
trees
,
some
rangers
had
found
enough
duff
and
dry
wood
to
start
a
fire
beneath
a
slanting
ridge
of
slate
.
Others
had
raised
tents
or
made
rude
shelters
by
stretching
their
cloaks
over
low
branches
.
Giant
had
crammed
himself
inside
the
hollow
of
a
dead
oak
.
"
How
d
’
ye
like
my
castle
,
Lord
Snow
?
"
"
It
looks
snug
.
You
know
where
Sam
is
?
"
"
Keep
on
the
way
you
were
.
If
you
come
on
Ser
Ottyn
’
s
pavilion
,
you
’
ve
gone
too
far
.
"
Giant
smiled
.
"
Unless
Sam
’
s
found
him
a
tree
too
.
What
a
tree
that
would
be
.
"
It
was
Ghost
who
found
Sam
in
the
end
.
The
direwolf
shot
ahead
like
a
quarrel
from
a
crossbow
.
Under
an
outcrop
of
rock
that
gave
some
small
degree
of
shelter
from
the
rain
,
Sam
was
feeding
the
ravens
.
His
boots
squished
when
he
moved
.
"
My
feet
are
soaked
through
,
"
he
admitted
miserably
.
"
When
I
climbed
off
my
horse
,
I
stepped
in
a
hole
and
went
in
up
to
my
knees
.
"
"
Take
off
your
boots
and
dry
your
stockings
.
I
’
ll
find
some
dry
wood
.
If
the
ground
’
s
not
wet
under
the
rock
,
we
might
be
able
to
get
a
fire
burning
.
"
Jon
showed
Sam
the
rabbit
.
"
And
we
’
ll
feast
.
"
"
Won
’
t
you
be
attending
Lord
Mormont
in
the
hall
?
"
"
No
,
but
you
will
.
The
Old
Bear
wants
you
to
map
for
him
.
Craster
says
he
’
ll
find
Mance
Rayder
for
us
.
"
"
Oh
.
"
Sam
did
not
look
anxious
to
meet
Craster
,
even
if
it
meant
a
warm
fire
.
"
He
said
eat
first
,
though
.
Dry
your
feet
.
"
