She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Her brother followed, one hand still clenched hard around his sword hilt. Somehow, the fear had gone away. Robb sat in the bow with Grey Wind, his hand resting on his direwolf s head as the rowers pulled at their oars.
Cayn whirled, steel flashing, drove back the nearest spearman with a flurry of blows; for an instant it looked as though he might cut his way free. Jon climbed into his saddle. The weirwood's bark was white as bone, its leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. I want to go with you, Bran said.
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