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"
Gods
have
mercy
,
"
Ser
Brynden
exclaimed
when
he
saw
what
lay
before
them
.
"
This
is
Moat
Cailin
?
It
's
no
more
than
a
--
"
"
--
death
trap
,
"
Catelyn
finished
.
"
I
know
how
it
looks
,
Uncle
.
I
thought
the
same
the
first
time
I
saw
it
,
but
Ned
assured
me
that
this
ruin
is
more
formidable
than
it
seems
.
The
three
surviving
towers
command
the
causeway
from
all
sides
,
and
any
enemy
must
pass
between
them
.
The
bogs
here
are
impenetrable
,
full
of
quicksands
and
suckholes
and
teeming
with
snakes
.
To
assault
any
of
the
towers
,
an
army
would
need
to
wade
through
waist-deep
black
muck
,
cross
a
moat
full
of
lizard-lions
,
and
scale
walls
slimy
with
moss
,
all
the
while
exposing
themselves
to
fire
from
archers
in
the
other
towers
.
"
She
gave
her
uncle
a
grim
smile
.
"
And
when
night
falls
,
there
are
said
to
be
ghosts
,
cold
vengeful
spirits
of
the
north
who
hunger
for
southron
blood
.
"
Ser
Brynden
chuckled
.
"
Remind
me
not
to
linger
here
.
Last
I
looked
,
I
was
southron
myself
.
"
Standards
had
been
raised
atop
all
three
towers
.
The
Karstark
sunburst
hung
from
the
Drunkard
's
Tower
,
beneath
the
direwolf
;
on
the
Children
's
Tower
it
was
the
Greatjon
's
giant
in
shattered
chains
.
But
on
the
Gatehouse
Tower
,
the
Stark
banner
flew
alone
.
That
was
where
Robb
had
made
his
seat
.
Catelyn
made
for
it
,
with
Ser
Brynden
and
Ser
Wendel
behind
her
,
their
horses
stepping
slowly
down
the
log-and-plank
road
that
had
been
laid
across
the
green-and-black
fields
of
mud
.
She
found
her
son
surrounded
by
his
father
's
lords
bannermen
,
in
a
drafty
hall
with
a
peat
fire
smoking
in
a
black
hearth
.
He
was
seated
at
a
massive
stone
table
,
a
pile
of
maps
and
papers
in
front
of
him
,
talking
intently
with
Roose
Bolton
and
the
Greatjon
.
At
first
he
did
not
notice
her
...
but
his
wolf
did
.
The
great
grey
beast
was
lying
near
the
fire
,
but
when
Catelyn
entered
he
lifted
his
head
,
and
his
golden
eyes
met
hers
.
The
lords
fell
silent
one
by
one
,
and
Robb
looked
up
at
the
sudden
quiet
and
saw
her
.
"
Mother
?
"
he
said
,
his
voice
thick
with
emotion
.
Catelyn
wanted
to
run
to
him
,
to
kiss
his
sweet
brow
,
to
wrap
him
in
her
arms
and
hold
him
so
tightly
that
he
would
never
come
to
harm
...
but
here
in
front
of
his
lords
,
she
dared
not
.
He
was
playing
a
man
's
part
now
,
and
she
would
not
take
that
away
from
him
.
So
she
held
herself
at
the
far
end
of
the
basalt
slab
they
were
using
for
a
table
.
The
direwolf
got
to
his
feet
and
padded
across
the
room
to
where
she
stood
.
It
seemed
bigger
than
a
wolf
ought
to
be
.
"
You
've
grown
a
beard
,
"
she
said
to
Robb
,
while
Grey
Wind
sniffed
her
hand
.
He
rubbed
his
stubbled
jaw
,
suddenly
awkward
.
"
Yes
.
"
His
chin
hairs
were
redder
than
the
ones
on
his
head
.
"
I
like
it
.
"
Catelyn
stroked
the
wolfs
head
,
gently
.
"
It
makes
you
look
like
my
brother
Edmure
.
"
Grey
Wind
nipped
at
her
fingers
,
playful
,
and
trotted
back
to
his
place
by
the
fire
.
