Битва королей

Bran

           

           Swiftly,swiftly,hewhirledandboundedbackintothetrees,wetleavesrustlingbeneathhispaws,brancheswhippingathimasherushedpast.Hecouldhearhisbrotherfollowingclose.Theyplungedunderthehearttreeandaroundthecoldpool,throughtheblackberrybushes,underatangleofoaksandashandhawthornscrub,tothefarsideofthewood...andthereitwas,theshadowhe’dglimpsedwithoutseeing,theslantingtreepointingattherooftops.Sentinel,camethethought.

           Herememberedhowitwastoclimbitthen.Theneedleseverywhere,scratchingathisbarefaceandfallingdownthebackofhisneck,thestickysaponhishands,thesharppineysmellofit.Itwasaneasytreeforaboytoclimb,leaningasitdid,crooked,thebranchessoclosetogethertheyalmostmadealadder,slantingrightuptotheroof.

           Growling,hesniffedaroundthebaseofthetree,liftedalegandmarkeditwithastreamofurine.Alowbranchbrushedhisface,andhesnappedatit,twistingandpullinguntilthewoodcrackedandtore.Hismouthwasfullofneedlesandthebittertasteofthesap.Heshookhisheadandsnarled.

           Hisbrothersatbackonhishaunchesandliftedhisvoiceinaululatinghowl,hissongblackwithmourning.Thewaywasnoway.Theywerenotsquirrels,northecubsofmen,theycouldnotwriggleupthetrunksoftrees,clingingwithsoftpinkpawsandclumsyfeet.Theywererunners,hunters,prowlers.

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