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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 154/751
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"
She
is
of
the
north
.
She
deserves
better
than
a
butcher
.
"
He
left
the
room
with
his
eyes
burning
and
his
daughter
's
wails
echoing
in
his
ears
,
and
found
the
direwolf
pup
where
they
chained
her
.
Ned
sat
beside
her
for
a
while
.
"
Lady
,
"
he
said
,
tasting
the
name
.
He
had
never
paid
much
attention
to
the
names
the
children
had
picked
,
but
looking
at
her
now
,
he
knew
that
Sansa
had
chosen
well
.
She
was
the
smallest
of
the
litter
,
the
prettiest
,
the
most
gentle
and
trusting
.
She
looked
at
him
with
bright
golden
eyes
,
and
he
ruffled
her
thick
grey
fur
.
Shortly
,
Jory
brought
him
Ice
.
When
it
was
over
,
he
said
,
"
Choose
four
men
and
have
them
take
the
body
north
.
Bury
her
at
Winterfell
.
"
"
All
that
way
?
"
Jory
said
,
astonished
.
"
All
that
way
,
"
Ned
affirmed
.
"
The
Lannister
woman
shall
never
have
this
skin
.
"
He
was
walking
back
to
the
tower
to
give
himself
up
to
sleep
at
last
when
Sandor
Clegane
and
his
riders
came
pounding
through
the
castle
gate
,
back
from
their
hunt
.
There
was
something
slung
over
the
back
of
his
destrier
,
a
heavy
shape
wrapped
in
a
bloody
cloak
.
"
No
sign
of
your
daughter
,
Hand
,
"
the
Hound
rasped
down
,
"
but
the
day
was
not
wholly
wasted
.
We
got
her
little
pet
.
"
He
reached
back
and
shoved
the
burden
off
,
and
it
fell
with
a
thump
in
front
of
Ned
.
Bending
,
Ned
pulled
back
the
cloak
,
dreading
the
words
he
would
have
to
find
for
Arya
,
but
it
was
not
Nymeria
after
all
.
It
was
the
butcher
's
boy
,
Mycah
,
his
body
covered
in
dried
blood
.
He
had
been
cut
almost
in
half
from
shoulder
to
waist
by
some
terrible
blow
struck
from
above
.
"
You
rode
him
down
,
"
Ned
said
