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"
No
,
"
Samwell
Tarly
squeaked
.
Jon
was
startled
.
Sam
's
nervous
,
high-pitched
voice
was
the
last
he
would
have
expected
to
hear
.
The
fat
boy
was
frightened
of
the
officers
,
and
Ser
Jaremy
was
not
known
for
his
patience
.
"
I
did
not
ask
for
your
views
,
boy
,
"
Rykker
said
coldly
.
"
Let
him
speak
,
ser
,
"
Jon
blurted
.
Mormont
's
eyes
flicked
from
Sam
to
Jon
and
back
again
.
"
If
the
lad
has
something
to
say
,
I
'll
hear
him
out
.
Come
closer
,
boy
.
We
ca
n't
see
you
behind
those
horses
.
"
Sam
edged
past
Jon
and
the
garrons
,
sweating
profusely
.
"
My
lord
,
it
...
it
ca
n't
be
a
day
or
...
look
...
the
blood
...
"
"
Yes
?
"
Mormont
growled
impatiently
.
"
Blood
,
what
of
it
?
"
"
He
soils
his
smallclothes
at
the
sight
of
it
,
"
Chett
shouted
out
,
and
the
rangers
laughed
.
Sam
mopped
at
the
sweat
on
his
brow
.
"
You
...
you
can
see
where
Ghost
...
Jon
's
direwolf
...
you
can
see
where
he
tore
off
that
man
's
hand
,
and
yet
...
the
stump
has
n't
bled
,
look
...
"
He
waved
a
hand
.
"
My
father
...
L-lord
Randyll
,
he
,
he
made
me
watch
him
dress
animals
sometimes
,
when
...
after
...
"
Sam
shook
his
head
from
side
to
side
,
his
chins
quivering
.
Now
that
he
had
looked
at
the
bodies
,
he
could
not
seem
to
look
away
.
"
A
fresh
kill
...
the
blood
would
still
flow
,
my
lords
.
Later
...
later
it
would
be
clotted
,
like
a.
.
.
a
jelly
,
thick
and
...
and
...
"
He
looked
as
though
he
was
going
to
be
sick
.
"
This
man
...
look
at
the
wrist
,
it
's
all
...
crusty
...
dry
...
like
...
"
