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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 114/751
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They
had
left
Winterfell
on
the
same
day
as
the
king
,
amidst
all
the
commotion
of
the
royal
departure
,
riding
out
to
the
sound
of
men
shouting
and
horses
snorting
,
to
the
rattle
of
wagons
and
the
groaning
of
the
queen
's
huge
wheelhouse
,
as
a
light
snow
flurried
about
them
.
The
kingsroad
was
just
beyond
the
sprawl
of
castle
and
town
.
There
the
banners
and
the
wagons
and
the
columns
of
knights
and
freeriders
turned
south
,
taking
the
tumult
with
them
,
while
Tyrion
turned
north
with
Benjen
Stark
and
his
nephew
.
It
had
grown
colder
after
that
,
and
far
more
quiet
.
West
of
the
road
were
flint
hills
,
grey
and
rugged
,
with
tall
watchtowers
on
their
stony
summits
.
To
the
east
the
land
was
lower
,
the
ground
flattening
to
a
rolling
plain
that
stretched
away
as
far
as
the
eye
could
see
.
Stone
bridges
spanned
swift
,
narrow
rivers
,
while
small
farms
spread
in
rings
around
holdfasts
walled
in
wood
and
stone
.
The
road
was
well
trafficked
,
and
at
night
for
their
comfort
there
were
rude
inns
to
be
found
.
Three
days
ride
from
Winterfell
,
however
,
the
farmland
gave
way
to
dense
wood
,
and
the
kingsroad
grew
lonely
.
The
flint
hills
rose
higher
and
wilder
with
each
passing
mile
,
until
by
the
fifth
day
they
had
turned
into
mountains
,
cold
blue-grey
giants
with
jagged
promontories
and
snow
on
their
shoulders
.
When
the
wind
blew
from
the
north
,
long
plumes
of
ice
crystals
flew
from
the
high
peaks
like
banners
.
With
the
mountains
a
wall
to
the
west
,
the
road
veered
north
by
northeast
through
the
wood
,
a
forest
of
oak
and
evergreen
and
black
brier
that
seemed
older
and
darker
than
any
Tyrion
had
ever
seen
.
"
The
wolfswood
,
"
Benjen
Stark
called
it
,
and
indeed
their
nights
came
alive
with
the
howls
of
distant
packs
,
and
some
not
so
distant
.
Jon
Snow
's
albino
direwolf
pricked
up
his
ears
at
the
nightly
howling
,
but
never
raised
his
own
voice
in
reply
.
There
was
something
very
unsettling
about
that
animal
,
Tyrion
thought
.
There
were
eight
in
the
party
by
then
,
not
counting
the
wolf
.
Tyrion
traveled
with
two
of
his
own
men
,
as
befit
a
Lannister
.
Benjen
Stark
had
only
his
bastard
nephew
and
some
fresh
mounts
for
the
Night
's
Watch
,
but
at
the
edge
of
the
wolfswood
they
stayed
a
night
behind
the
wooden
walls
of
a
forest
holdfast
,
and
there
joined
up
with
another
of
the
black
brothers
,
one
Yoren
.
Yoren
was
stooped
and
sinister
,
his
features
hidden
behind
a
beard
as
black
as
his
clothing
,
but
he
seemed
as
tough
as
an
old
root
and
as
hard
as
stone
.
With
him
were
a
pair
of
ragged
peasant
boys
from
the
Fingers
.
"
Rapers
,
"
Yoren
said
with
a
cold
look
at
his
charges
.
Tyrion
understood
.
Life
on
the
Wall
was
said
to
be
hard
,
but
no
doubt
it
was
preferable
to
castration
.
Five
men
,
three
boys
,
a
direwolf
,
twenty
horses
,
and
a
cage
of
ravens
given
over
to
Benjen
Stark
by
Maester
Luwin
.
No
doubt
they
made
a
curious
fellowship
for
the
kingsroad
,
or
any
road
.
Tyrion
noticed
Jon
Snow
watching
Yoren
and
his
sullen
companions
,
with
an
odd
cast
to
his
face
that
looked
uncomfortably
like
dismay
.
Yoren
had
a
twisted
shoulder
and
a
sour
smell
,
his
hair
and
beard
were
matted
and
greasy
and
full
of
lice
,
his
clothing
old
,
patched
,
and
seldom
washed
.
His
two
young
recruits
smelled
even
worse
,
and
seemed
as
stupid
as
they
were
cruel
.
No
doubt
the
boy
had
made
the
mistake
of
thinking
that
the
Night
's
Watch
was
made
up
of
men
like
his
uncle
.
If
so
,
Yoren
and
his
companions
were
a
rude
awakening
.
Tyrion
felt
sorry
for
the
boy
.
He
had
chosen
a
hard
life
...
or
perhaps
he
should
say
that
a
hard
life
had
been
chosen
for
him
.
