Thoros, my sword. Lord Paxter Redwyne brought forth abeautiful wooden model of the war galley of two hundred oars being built evennow on the Arbor. Hewas too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. The arrow was black, Jon saw, but it was fletched with white duck feathers.
Mormont's head was still in his lap, but his eyes were open and staring andhis lips no longer moved. This won't take long. Sleep took her at last, but in the black of night Arya woke again, tingling. Say it, she urged.
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