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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 700/751
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"
...
wake
the
dragon
...
"
The
door
loomed
before
her
,
the
red
door
,
so
close
,
so
close
,
the
hall
was
a
blur
around
her
,
the
cold
receding
behind
.
And
now
the
stone
was
gone
and
she
flew
across
the
Dothraki
sea
,
high
and
higher
,
the
green
rippling
beneath
,
and
all
that
lived
and
breathed
fled
in
terror
from
the
shadow
of
her
wings
.
She
could
smell
home
,
she
could
see
it
,
there
,
just
beyond
that
door
,
green
fields
and
great
stone
houses
and
arms
to
keep
her
warm
,
there
.
She
threw
open
the
door
.
"
...
the
dragon
...
"
And
saw
her
brother
Rhaegar
,
mounted
on
a
stallion
as
black
as
his
armor
.
Fire
glimmered
red
through
the
narrow
eye
slit
of
his
helm
.
"
The
last
dragon
,
"
Ser
Jorah
's
voice
whispered
faintly
.
"
The
last
,
the
last
.
"
Dany
lifted
his
polished
black
visor
.
The
face
within
was
her
own
.
After
that
,
for
a
long
time
,
there
was
only
the
pain
,
the
fire
within
her
,
and
the
whisperings
of
stars
.
She
woke
to
the
taste
of
ashes
.
"
No
,
"
she
moaned
,
"
no
,
please
.
"
"
Khaleesi
?
"
Jhiqui
hovered
over
her
,
a
frightened
doe
.
The
tent
was
drenched
in
shadow
,
still
and
close
.
Flakes
of
ash
drifted
upward
from
a
brazier
,
and
Dany
followed
them
with
her
eyes
through
the
smoke
hole
above
.
Flying
,
she
thought
.
I
had
wings
,
I
was
flying
.
But
it
was
only
a
dream
.
"
Help
me
,
"
she
whispered
,
struggling
to
rise
.
"
Bring
me
...
"
Her
voice
was
raw
as
a
wound
,
and
she
could
not
think
what
she
wanted
.
Why
did
she
hurt
so
much
?
It
was
as
if
her
body
had
been
torn
to
pieces
and
remade
from
the
scraps
.
"
I
want
...
"
