We may not have a day. You are still my father's bannerman, are you not? Heh, said Lord Walder, a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt. I dreamed of Bran, Sansa had whispered to him. Two score men flanked the dwarf and the rest of her ragged band, knights and men-at-arms in service to her sister Lysa and Jon Arryn's young son, and yet Tyrion betrayed no hint of fear.
Those as say the giants are all dead never saw this one, I swear. At the bottom of the ridge, the grasses rose around her, tall and supple. Sandor Clegane snarled at her. The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right.
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