They emerged silently from the shadows, twins to the first. Crossing a river at night on a crude raft, wearing armor, with an enemy waiting on the other side-if that was gallantry, he would take cowardice every time. She ate standing in the yard, as stablehands moved their saddles to fresh mules. But her voice was low and weak, and she did not push him away.
The wildlings have axes too. Sansa could only agree. That's good. She heard her own voice saying, Ser Jorah, light the brazier.
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