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Arya

           

           Thehornhadstirredthecastlefromsleep;menwerecomingoutintothewardtoseewhatthecommotionwasabout.Aryafellinwiththeothers.Alineofoxcartswererumblingundertheportcullis.Plunder,sheknewatonce.Theridersescortingthecartsspokeinababbleofqueertongues.Theirarmorglintedpaleinthemoonlight,andshesawapairofstripedblack-and-whitehorses.TheBloodyMummers.Aryawithdrewalittledeeperintotheshadows,andwatchedasahugeblackbearrolledby,cagedinthebackofawagon.Othercartswereloadeddownwithsilverplate,weaponsandshields,bagsofflour,pensofsquealinghogsandscrawnydogsandchickens.Aryawasthinkinghowlongithadbeensinceshe’dhadasliceoffaporkroastwhenshesawthefirstoftheprisoners.

           Byhisbearingandtheproudwayheheldhishead,hemusthavebeenalord.Shecouldseemailglintingbeneathhistornredsurcoat.AtfirstAryatookhimforaLannister,butwhenhepassednearatorchshesawhisdevicewasasilverfist,notalion.Hiswristswereboundtightly,andaropearoundoneankletiedhimtothemanbehindhim,andhimtothemanbehindhim,sothewholecolumnhadtoshufflealonginalurchinglockstep.Manyofthecaptiveswerewounded.Ifanyhalted,oneoftheriderswouldtrotupandgivehimalickofthewhiptogethimmovingagain.Shetriedtojudgehowmanyprisonerstherewere,butlostcountbeforeshegottofifty.Thereweretwicethatmanyatleast.

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