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- Джордж Мартин
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"
Good
,
"
the
maester
said
.
"
A
good
boy
.
Your
.
.
.
your
father
’
s
son
,
Bran
.
Now
go
.
"
Osha
gazed
up
at
the
weirwood
,
at
the
red
face
carved
in
the
pale
trunk
.
"
And
leave
you
for
the
gods
?
"
"
I
beg
.
.
.
"
The
maester
swallowed
.
"
A
.
.
.
a
drink
of
water
,
and
.
.
.
another
boon
.
If
you
would
.
.
.
"
"
Aye
.
"
She
turned
to
Meera
.
"
Take
the
boys
.
"
Jojen
and
Meera
led
Rickon
out
between
them
.
Hodor
followed
.
Low
branches
whipped
at
Bran
’
s
face
as
they
pushed
between
the
trees
,
and
the
leaves
brushed
away
his
tears
.
Osha
joined
them
in
the
yard
a
few
moments
later
.
She
said
no
word
of
Maester
Luwin
.
"
Hodor
must
stay
with
Bran
,
to
be
his
legs
,
"
the
wildling
woman
said
briskly
.
"
I
will
take
Rickon
with
me
.
"
"
We
’
ll
go
with
Bran
,
"
said
Jojen
Reed
.
"
Aye
,
I
thought
you
might
,
"
said
Osha
.
"
Believe
I
’
ll
try
the
East
Gate
,
and
follow
the
kingsroad
a
ways
.
"
"
We
’
ll
take
the
Hunter
’
s
Gate
,
"
said
Meera
.
"
Hodor
,
"
said
Hodor
.
