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- Джордж Мартин
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- Игра престолов
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- Стр. 94/751
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Arya
disentangled
herself
from
him
and
made
a
face
.
"
Nothing
.
I
was
all
packed
and
everything
.
"
She
gestured
at
the
huge
chest
,
no
more
than
a
third
full
,
and
at
the
clothes
that
were
scattered
all
over
the
room
.
"
Septa
Mordane
says
I
have
to
do
it
all
over
.
My
things
were
n't
properly
folded
,
she
says
.
A
proper
southron
lady
does
n't
just
throw
her
clothes
inside
her
chest
like
old
rags
,
she
says
.
"
"
Is
that
what
you
did
,
little
sister
?
"
"
Well
,
they
're
going
to
get
all
messed
up
anyway
,
"
she
said
.
"
Who
cares
how
they
're
folded
?
"
"
Septa
Mordane
,
"
Jon
told
her
.
"
I
do
n't
think
she
'd
like
Nymeria
helping
,
either
.
"
The
she-wolf
regarded
him
silently
with
her
dark
golden
eyes
.
"
It
's
just
as
well
.
I
have
something
for
you
to
take
with
you
,
and
it
has
to
be
packed
very
carefully
.
"
Her
face
lit
up
.
"
A
present
?
"
"
You
could
call
it
that
.
Close
the
door
.
"
Wary
but
excited
,
Arya
checked
the
hall
.
"
Nymeria
,
here
.
Guard
.
"
She
left
the
wolf
out
there
to
warn
of
intruders
and
closed
the
door
.
By
then
Jon
had
pulled
off
the
rags
he
'd
wrapped
it
in
.
He
held
it
out
to
her
.
Arya
's
eyes
went
wide
.
Dark
eyes
,
like
his
.
"
A
sword
,
"
she
said
in
a
small
,
hushed
breath
.
The
scabbard
was
soft
grey
leather
,
supple
as
sin
.
Jon
drew
out
the
blade
slowly
,
so
she
could
see
the
deep
blue
sheen
of
the
steel
.
"
This
is
no
toy
,
"
he
told
her
.
"
Be
careful
you
do
n't
cut
yourself
.
The
edges
are
sharp
enough
to
shave
with
.
"
