Битва королей

Jon

           itwasonlywhenhistorchlightbrushedagainstthemthatJonglimpsedaflashofgreen.Faintly,heheardthesoundofwaterflowingoverrocks.Ghostvanishedintheunderbrush.Jonstruggledafterhim,listeningtothecallofthebrook,totheleavessighinginthewind.Branchesclutchedathiscloak,whileoverheadthicklimbstwinedtogetherandshutoutthestars.

           HefoundGhostlappingfromthestream."Ghost,"hecalled,"tome.Now."Whenthedirewolfraisedhishead,hiseyesglowedredandbaleful,andwaterstreameddownfromhisjawslikeslaver.Therewassomethingfierceandterribleabouthiminthatinstant.Andthenhewasoff,boundingpastJon,racingthroughthetrees."Ghost,no,stay,"heshouted,butthewolfpaidnoheed.Theleanwhiteshapewasswallowedbythedark,andJonhadonlytwochoicestoclimbthehillagain,alone,ortofollow.

           Hefollowed,angry,holdingthetorchoutlowsohecouldseetherocksthatthreatenedtotriphimwitheverystep,thethickrootsthatseemedtograbathisfeet,theholeswhereamancouldtwistanankle.EveryfewfeethecalledagainforGhost,butthenightwindwasswirlingamongstthetreesanditdrankthewords.Thisismadness,hethoughtasheplungeddeeperintothetrees.Hewasabouttoturnbackwhenheglimpsedaflashofwhiteoffaheadandtotheright,backtowardthehill.Hejoggedafterit,cursingunderhisbreath.

           Aquarter-wayaroundtheFisthechasedthewolfbeforehelosthimagain.

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