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Jon

           Thecorngone,Mormontturnedhishandover.

           "Youwouldnotgiveupthesearch?"

           "MaesterAemonthinksyouclever."Mormontmovedtheraventohisshoulder.Thebirdtilteditsheadtooneside,littleeyesaglitter.

           Theanswerwasthere."Isit...itseemstomethatitmightbeeasierforonemantofindtwohundredthanfortwohundredtofindone."

           Theravengaveacacklingscream,buttheOldBearsmiledthroughthegreyofhisbeard."ThismanymenandhorsesleaveatrailevenAemoncouldfollow.Onthishill,ourfiresoughttobevisibleasfaroffasthefoothillsoftheFrostfangs.IfBenStarkisaliveandfree,hewillcometous,Ihavenodoubt."

           "Yes,"saidJon,"but...whatif..."

           "...he’sdead?"Mormontasked,notunkindly.

           Jonnodded,reluctantly.

           "Dead,"theravensaid."Dead.Dead."

           "Hemaycometousanyway,"theOldBearsaid."AsOthordid,andJaferFlowers.Idreadthatasmuchasyou,Jon,butwemustadmitthepossibility."

           "Dead,"hisravencawed,rufflingitswings.Itsvoicegrewlouderandmoreshrill."Dead."

           Mormontstrokedthebird’sblackfeathers,andstifledasuddenyawnwiththebackofhishand."Iwillforsakesupper,Ibelieve.Restwillservemebetter.Wakemeatfirstlight."

           "Sleepwell,mylord."

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