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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 375/751
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The
leather
parted
with
a
sigh
.
The
stroke
had
been
quick
and
careless
,
biting
deep
.
Looking
down
,
Bran
glimpsed
pale
flesh
where
the
wool
of
his
leggings
had
parted
.
Then
the
blood
began
to
flow
.
He
watched
the
red
stain
spread
,
feeling
light-headed
,
curiously
apart
;
there
had
been
no
pain
,
not
even
a
hint
of
feeling
.
The
big
man
grunted
in
surprise
.
"
Put
down
your
steel
now
,
and
I
promise
you
shall
have
a
quick
and
painless
death
,
"
Robb
called
out
.
Bran
looked
up
in
desperate
hope
,
and
there
he
was
.
The
strength
of
the
words
were
undercut
by
the
way
his
voice
cracked
with
strain
.
He
was
mounted
,
the
bloody
carcass
of
an
elk
slung
across
the
back
of
his
horse
,
his
sword
in
a
gloved
hand
.
"
The
brother
,
"
said
the
man
with
the
grey
stubbly
face
.
"
He
's
a
fierce
one
,
he
is
,
"
mocked
the
short
woman
.
Hali
,
they
called
her
.
"
You
mean
to
fight
us
,
boy
?
"
"
Do
n't
be
a
fool
,
lad
.
You
're
one
against
six
.
"
The
tall
woman
,
Osha
,
leveled
her
spear
.
"
Off
the
horse
,
and
throw
down
the
sword
.
We
'll
thank
you
kindly
for
the
mount
and
for
the
venison
,
and
you
and
your
brother
can
be
on
your
way
.
"
Robb
whistled
.
They
heard
the
faint
sound
of
soft
feet
on
wet
leaves
.
The
undergrowth
parted
,
low-hanging
branches
giving
up
their
accumulation
of
snow
,
and
Grey
Wind
and
Summer
emerged
from
the
green
.
Summer
sniffed
the
air
and
growled
.
"
Wolves
,
"
gasped
Hali
.
"
Direwolves
,
"
Bran
said
.
Still
half-grown
,
they
were
as
large
as
any
wolf
he
had
ever
seen
,
but
the
differences
were
easy
to
spot
,
if
you
knew
what
to
look
for
.
