He could feel a dull ache in his shattered leg, an itch beneath the plaster. Let's ride, then. Gods, how did we come to this? You here, and me killed by a pig. Close your eyes, he said gently.
Like as not, my sister is marching in your brother's host, her and those daughters of hers, dressed in men's mail. The drawbridge was up and the portcullis down, but Catelyn saw lights burning in the gatehouse and spilling from the windows of the square towers beyond. Bran would never forget the look on Robb's face as he stared at their sister's words. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream.
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