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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 256/751
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"
Do
you
like
to
hunt
?
"
The
fat
boy
shuddered
.
"
I
hate
it
.
"
He
looked
as
though
he
was
going
to
cry
again
.
"
What
's
wrong
now
?
"
Jon
asked
him
.
"
Why
are
you
always
so
frightened
?
"
Sam
stared
at
the
last
of
his
pork
pie
and
gave
a
feeble
shake
of
his
head
,
too
scared
even
to
talk
.
A
burst
of
laughter
filled
the
hall
.
Jon
heard
Pyp
squeaking
in
a
high
voice
.
He
stood
.
"
Let
's
go
outside
.
"
The
round
fat
face
looked
up
at
him
,
suspicious
.
"
Why
?
What
will
we
do
outside
?
"
"
Talk
,
"
Jon
said
.
"
Have
you
seen
the
Wall
?
"
"
I
'm
fat
,
not
blind
,
"
Samwell
Tarly
said
.
"
Of
course
I
saw
it
,
it
's
seven
hundred
feet
high
.
"
Yet
he
stood
up
all
the
same
,
wrapped
a
fur-lined
cloak
over
his
shoulders
,
and
followed
Jon
from
the
common
hall
,
still
wary
,
as
if
he
suspected
some
cruel
trick
was
waiting
for
him
in
the
night
.
Ghost
padded
along
beside
them
.
"
I
never
thought
it
would
be
like
this
,
"
Sam
said
as
they
walked
,
his
words
steaming
in
the
cold
air
.
Already
he
was
huffing
and
puffing
as
he
tried
to
keep
up
.
"
All
the
buildings
are
falling
down
,
and
it
's
so
...
so
...
"
"
Cold
?
"
A
hard
frost
was
settling
over
the
castle
,
and
Jon
could
hear
the
soft
crunch
of
grey
weeds
beneath
his
boots
.
Sam
nodded
miserably
.
"
I
hate
the
cold
,
"
he
said
.
"
Last
night
I
woke
up
in
the
dark
and
the
fire
had
gone
out
and
I
was
certain
I
was
going
to
freeze
to
death
by
morning
.
"
"
It
must
have
been
warmer
where
you
come
from
.
"
