Игра престолов

Bran

           GreyWindfollowed,lopingbesidethewarhorse,leanandswift.HallisMollenwentbeforethemthroughthegate,carryingtheripplingwhitebannerofHouseStarkatopahighstandardofgreyash.TheonGreyjoyandtheGreatjonfellinoneithersideofRobb,andtheirknightsformedupinadoublecolumnbehindthem,steel-tippedlancesglintinginthesun.

           Uncomfortably,herememberedOsha’swords.He’smarchingthewrongway,hethought.Foraninstanthewantedtogallopafterhimandshoutawarning,butwhenRobbvanishedbeneaththeportcullis,themomentwasgone.

           Beyondthecastlewalls,aroarofsoundwentup.ThefootsoldiersandtownsfolkwerecheeringRobbasherodepast,Branknew;cheeringforLordStark,fortheLordofWinterfellonhisgreatstallion,withhiscloakstreamingandGreyWindracingbesidehim.Theywouldnevercheerforhimthatway,herealizedwithadullache.HemightbethelordinWinterfellwhilehisbrotherandfatherweregone,buthewasstillBrantheBroken.Hecouldnotevengetoffhisownhorse,excepttofall.

           Whenthedistantcheershadfadedtosilenceandtheyardwasemptyatlast,Winterfellseemeddesertedanddead.Branlookedaroundatthefacesofthosewhoremained,womenandchildrenandoldmen...andHodor.Thehugestableboyhadalostandfrightenedlooktohisface."Hodor?"hesaidsadly.

           "Hodor,"Branagreed,wonderingwhatitmeant.

           

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