Slow as honey on a cold morning, the rangers swept down on the wildling camp,picking their way through clumps of gorse and stands of trees, over roots androcks. Must I go to the king and tellhim that you would not do as you were told? Do you know how angry that willmake him? Have Grand Maester Pycelle shouted forsomeone to help him back to his chambers, to fetch his potions. It would be cold, she knew,though the Eyrie's towers encircled the garden and protected it from the worstof the mountain winds.
Yet all the same, he resents me for it,Catelyn thought wearily. We all saw. though there was truth to what he said. Not even with the flat of axes.
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