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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 670/751
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Her
lord
father
had
taught
her
never
to
steal
,
but
it
was
growing
harder
to
remember
why
.
If
she
did
not
get
out
soon
,
she
would
have
to
take
her
chances
with
the
gold
cloaks
.
She
had
n't
gone
hungry
much
since
she
learned
to
knock
down
birds
with
her
stick
sword
,
but
she
feared
so
much
pigeon
was
making
her
sick
.
A
couple
she
'd
eaten
raw
,
before
she
found
Flea
Bottom
.
In
the
Bottom
there
were
pot-shops
along
the
alleys
where
huge
tubs
of
stew
had
been
simmering
for
years
,
and
you
could
trade
half
your
bird
for
a
heel
of
yesterday
's
bread
and
a
"
bowl
o
'
brown
,
"
and
they
'd
even
stick
the
other
half
in
the
fire
and
crisp
it
up
for
you
,
so
long
as
you
plucked
the
feathers
yourself
.
Arya
would
have
given
anything
for
a
cup
of
milk
and
a
lemon
cake
,
but
the
brown
was
n't
so
bad
.
It
usually
had
barley
in
it
,
and
chunks
of
carrot
and
onion
and
turnip
,
and
sometimes
even
apple
,
with
a
film
of
grease
swimming
on
top
.
Mostly
she
tried
not
to
think
about
the
meat
.
Once
she
had
gotten
a
piece
of
fish
.
The
only
thing
was
,
the
pot-shops
were
never
empty
,
and
even
as
she
bolted
down
her
food
,
Arya
could
feel
them
watching
.
Some
of
them
stared
at
her
boots
or
her
cloak
,
and
she
knew
what
they
were
thinking
.
With
others
,
she
could
almost
feel
their
eyes
crawling
under
her
leathers
;
she
did
n't
know
what
they
were
thinking
,
and
that
scared
her
even
more
.
A
couple
times
,
she
was
followed
out
into
the
alleys
and
chased
,
but
so
far
no
one
had
been
able
to
catch
her
.
The
silver
bracelet
she
'd
hoped
to
sell
had
been
stolen
her
first
night
out
of
the
castle
,
along
with
her
bundle
of
good
clothes
,
snatched
while
she
slept
in
a
burnt-out
house
off
Pig
Alley
.
All
they
left
her
was
the
cloak
she
had
been
huddled
in
,
the
leathers
on
her
back
,
her
wooden
practice
sword
...
and
Needle
.
She
'd
been
lying
on
top
of
Needle
,
or
else
it
would
have
been
gone
too
;
it
was
worth
more
than
all
the
rest
together
.
Since
then
Arya
had
taken
to
walking
around
with
her
cloak
draped
over
her
right
arm
,
to
conceal
the
blade
at
her
hip
.
The
wooden
sword
she
carried
in
her
left
hand
,
out
where
everybody
could
see
it
,
to
scare
off
robbers
,
but
there
were
men
in
the
pot-shops
who
would
n't
have
been
scared
off
if
she
'd
had
a
battle-axe
.
It
was
enough
to
make
her
lose
her
taste
for
pigeon
and
stale
bread
.
Often
as
not
,
she
went
to
bed
hungry
rather
than
risk
the
stares
.
Once
she
was
outside
the
city
,
she
would
find
berries
to
pick
,
or
orchards
she
might
raid
for
apples
and
cherries
.
Arya
remembered
seeing
some
from
the
kingsroad
on
the
journey
south
.
And
she
could
dig
for
roots
in
the
forest
,
even
run
down
some
rabbits
.
In
the
city
,
the
only
things
to
run
down
were
rats
and
cats
and
scrawny
dogs
.
The
potshops
would
give
you
a
fistful
of
coppers
for
a
litter
of
pups
,
she
'd
heard
,
but
she
did
n't
like
to
think
about
that
.
Down
below
the
Street
of
Flour
was
a
maze
of
twisting
alleys
and
cross
streets
.
Arya
scrambled
through
the
crowds
,
trying
to
put
distance
between
her
and
the
gold
cloaks
.
She
had
learned
to
keep
to
the
center
of
the
street
.
Sometimes
she
had
to
dodge
wagons
and
horses
,
but
at
least
you
could
see
them
coming
.
If
you
walked
near
the
buildings
,
people
grabbed
you
.
In
some
alleys
you
could
n't
help
but
brush
against
the
walls
;
the
buildings
leaned
in
so
close
they
almost
met
.
A
whooping
gang
of
small
children
went
running
past
,
chasing
a
rolling
hoop
.
Arya
stared
at
them
with
resentment
,
remembering
the
times
she
'd
played
at
hoops
with
Bran
and
Jon
and
their
baby
brother
Rickon
.
She
wondered
how
big
Rickon
had
grown
,
and
whether
Bran
was
sad
.
She
would
have
given
anything
if
Jon
had
been
here
to
call
her
"
little
sister
"
and
muss
her
hair
.
Not
that
it
needed
mussing
.
She
'd
seen
her
reflection
in
puddles
,
and
she
did
n't
think
hair
got
any
more
mussed
than
hers
.
She
had
tried
talking
to
the
children
she
saw
in
the
street
,
hoping
to
make
a
friend
who
would
give
her
a
place
to
sleep
,
but
she
must
have
talked
wrong
or
something
.
The
little
ones
only
looked
at
her
with
quick
,
wary
eyes
and
ran
away
if
she
came
too
close
.
Their
big
brothers
and
sisters
asked
questions
Arya
could
n't
answer
,
called
her
names
,
and
tried
to
steal
from
her
.
