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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Tell
me
what
’
s
going
to
happen
,
"
Bran
said
.
"
I
will
,
"
said
Jojen
,
"
if
you
’
ll
tell
me
about
your
dreams
.
"
The
godswood
grew
quiet
.
Bran
could
hear
leaves
rustling
,
and
Hodor
’
s
distant
splashing
from
the
hot
pools
.
He
thought
of
the
golden
man
and
the
three
-
eyed
crow
,
remembered
the
crunch
of
bones
between
his
jaws
and
the
coppery
taste
of
blood
.
"
I
don
’
t
have
dreams
.
Maester
Luwin
gives
me
sleeping
draughts
.
"
"
Do
they
help
?
"
"
Sometimes
.
"
Meera
said
,
"
All
of
Winterfell
knows
you
wake
at
night
shouting
and
sweating
,
Bran
.
The
women
talk
of
it
at
the
well
,
and
the
guards
in
their
hall
.
"
"
Tell
us
what
frightens
you
so
much
,
"
said
Jojen
.
"
I
don
’
t
want
to
.
Anyway
,
it
’
s
only
dreams
.
Maester
Luwin
says
dreams
might
mean
anything
or
nothing
.
"
"
My
brother
dreams
as
other
boys
do
,
and
those
dreams
might
mean
anything
,
"
Meera
said
,
"
but
the
green
dreams
are
different
.
"
Jojen
’
s
eyes
were
the
color
of
moss
,
and
sometimes
when
he
looked
at
you
he
seemed
to
be
seeing
something
else
.
Like
now
.
"
I
dreamed
of
a
winged
wolf
bound
to
earth
with
grey
stone
chains
,
"
he
said
.
"
It
was
a
green
dream
,
so
I
knew
it
was
true
.
A
crow
was
trying
to
peck
through
the
chains
,
but
the
stone
was
too
hard
and
his
beak
could
only
chip
at
them
.
"
