Bran

           Itseemedasthoughhehadbeenfallingforyears.

           Fly,avoicewhisperedinthedarkness,butBrandidnotknowhowtofly,soallhecoulddowasfall.

           MaesterLuwinmadealittleboyofclay,bakedhimtillhewashardandbrittle,dressedhiminBran’sclothes,andflunghimoffaroof.Branrememberedthewayheshattered."ButIneverfall,"hesaid,falling.

           Thegroundwassofarbelowhimhecouldbarelymakeitoutthroughthegreymiststhatwhirledaroundhim,buthecouldfeelhowfasthewasfalling,andheknewwhatwaswaitingforhimdownthere.Evenindreams,youcouldnotfallforever.Hewouldwakeupintheinstantbeforehehittheground,heknew.Youalwayswokeupintheinstantbeforeyouhittheground.

           Andifyoudon’t?thevoiceasked.

           Thegroundwasclosernow,stillfarfaraway,athousandmilesaway,butcloserthanithadbeen.Itwascoldhereinthedarkness.Therewasnosun,nostars,onlythegroundbelowcominguptosmashhim,andthegreymists,andthewhisperingvoice.Hewantedtocry.

           Notcry.Fly.

           "Ican’tfly,"Bransaid."Ican’t,Ican’t..."

           Howdoyouknow?Haveyouevertried?

           Thevoicewashighandthin.Branlookedaroundtoseewhereitwascomingfrom.Acrowwasspiralingdownwithhim,justoutofreach,followinghimashefell."Helpme,"hesaid.

           I’mtrying,thecrowreplied.Say,gotanycorn?

           Branreachedintohispocketasthedarknessspundizzilyaroundhim.Whenhepulledhishandout,goldenkernelsslidfrombetweenhisfingersintotheair.Theyfellwithhim.