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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 90/751
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"
Shall
I
call
the
guards
?
"
"
Call
them
,
"
Jon
said
,
defiant
.
"
You
ca
n't
stop
me
from
seeing
him
.
"
He
crossed
the
room
,
keeping
the
bed
between
them
,
and
looked
down
on
Bran
where
he
lay
.
She
was
holding
one
of
his
hands
.
It
looked
like
a
claw
.
This
was
not
the
Bran
he
remembered
.
The
flesh
had
all
gone
from
him
.
His
skin
stretched
tight
over
bones
like
sticks
.
Under
the
blanket
,
his
legs
bent
in
ways
that
made
Jon
sick
.
His
eyes
were
sunken
deep
into
black
pits
;
open
,
but
they
saw
nothing
.
The
fall
had
shrunken
him
somehow
.
He
looked
half
a
leaf
,
as
if
the
first
strong
wind
would
carry
him
off
to
his
grave
.
Yet
under
the
frail
cage
of
those
shattered
ribs
,
his
chest
rose
and
fell
with
each
shallow
breath
.
"
Bran
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
'm
sorry
I
did
n't
come
before
.
I
was
afraid
.
"
He
could
feel
the
tears
rolling
down
his
cheeks
.
Jon
no
longer
cared
.
"
Do
n't
die
,
Bran
.
Please
.
We
're
all
waiting
for
you
to
wake
up
.
Me
and
Robb
and
the
girls
,
everyone
...
"
Lady
Stark
was
watching
.
She
had
not
raised
a
cry
.
Jon
took
that
for
acceptance
.
Outside
the
window
,
the
direwolf
howled
again
.
The
wolf
that
Bran
had
not
had
time
to
name
.
"
I
have
to
go
now
,
"
Jon
said
.
"
Uncle
Benjen
is
waiting
.
I
'm
to
go
north
to
the
Wall
.
We
have
to
leave
today
,
before
the
snows
come
.
"
He
remembered
how
excited
Bran
had
been
at
the
prospect
of
the
journey
.
It
was
more
than
he
could
bear
,
the
thought
of
leaving
him
behind
like
this
.
Jon
brushed
away
his
tears
,
leaned
over
,
and
kissed
his
brother
lightly
on
the
lips
.
"
I
wanted
him
to
stay
here
with
me
,
"
Lady
Stark
said
softly
.
Jon
watched
her
,
wary
.
She
was
not
even
looking
at
him
.
She
was
talking
to
him
,
but
for
a
part
of
her
,
it
was
as
though
he
were
not
even
in
the
room
.
