Игра престолов

Catelyn

           Themulessetthepace,slowbutsteady.Shewasperfectlycontentwiththat.

           "Mychel’smylove,"Myaexplained."MychelRedfort.He’ssquiretoSerLynCorbray.We’retowedassoonashebecomesaknight,nextyearortheyearafter."

           ShesoundedsolikeSansa,sohappyandinnocentwithherdreams.Catelynsmiled,butthesmilewastingedwithsadness.TheRedfortswereanoldnameintheVale,sheknew,withthebloodoftheFirstMenintheirveins.Hisloveshemightbe,butnoRedfortwouldeverwedabastard.Hisfamilywouldarrangeamoresuitablematchforhim,toaCorbrayoraWaynwoodoraRoyce,orperhapsadaughterofsomegreaterhouseoutsidetheVale.IfMychelRedfortlaidwiththisgirlatall,itwouldbeonthewrongsideofthesheet.

           TheascentwaseasierthanCatelynhaddaredhope.Thetreespressedclose,leaningoverthepathtomakearustlinggreenroofthatshutouteventhemoon,soitseemedasthoughtheyweremovingupalongblacktunnel.Butthemulesweresurefootedandtireless,andMyaStonedidindeedseemblessedwithnight-eyes.Theyploddedupward,windingtheirwaybackandforthacrossthefaceofthemountainasthestepstwistedandturned.Athicklayeroffallenneedlescarpetedthepath,sotheshoesoftheirmulesmadeonlythesoftestsoundontherock.Thequietsoothedher,andthegentlerockingmotionsetCatelyntoswayinginhersaddle.Beforelongshewasfightingsleep.

           Perhapsshediddozeforamoment,forsuddenlyamassiveironboundgatewasloomingbeforethem.

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