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- Джордж Мартин
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- Стр. 3/751
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Mallister
freeriders
had
caught
him
red-handed
in
the
Mallisters
'
own
woods
,
skinning
one
of
the
Mallisters
'
own
bucks
,
and
it
had
been
a
choice
of
putting
on
the
black
or
losing
a
hand
.
No
one
could
move
through
the
woods
as
silent
as
Will
,
and
it
had
not
taken
the
black
brothers
long
to
discover
his
talent
.
"
The
camp
is
two
miles
farther
on
,
over
that
ridge
,
hard
beside
a
stream
,
"
Will
said
.
"
I
got
close
as
I
dared
.
There
's
eight
of
them
,
men
and
women
both
.
No
children
I
could
see
.
They
put
up
a
lean-to
against
the
rock
.
The
snow
's
pretty
well
covered
it
now
,
but
I
could
still
make
it
out
.
No
fire
burning
,
but
the
firepit
was
still
plain
as
day
.
No
one
moving
.
I
watched
a
long
time
.
No
living
man
ever
lay
so
still
.
"
"
Did
you
see
any
blood
?
"
"
Well
,
no
,
"
Will
admitted
.
"
Did
you
see
any
weapons
?
"
"
Some
swords
,
a
few
bows
.
One
man
had
an
axe
.
Heavy-looking
,
double-bladed
,
a
cruel
piece
of
iron
.
It
was
on
the
ground
beside
him
,
right
by
his
hand
.
"
"
Did
you
make
note
of
the
position
of
the
bodies
?
"
Will
shrugged
.
"
A
couple
are
sitting
up
against
the
rock
.
Most
of
them
on
the
ground
.
Fallen
,
like
.
"
"
Or
sleeping
,
"
Royce
suggested
.
"
Fallen
,
"
Will
insisted
.
"
There
's
one
woman
up
an
ironwood
,
halfhid
in
the
branches
.
A
far-eyes
.
"
He
smiled
thinly
.
"
I
took
care
she
never
saw
me
.
When
I
got
closer
,
I
saw
that
she
was
n't
moving
neither
.
"
Despite
himself
,
he
shivered
.
