When he heard the rustle of leaves, Bran used the reins to make Dancer turn, expecting to see his friends, but the ragged men who stepped out onto the bank of the stream were strangers. If you thought your Stark blood would win you easy favors, you were wrong. We have enemies who mean us ill. Obsidian, Maester Luwin insisted, holding out his wounded arm.
We are far from lost. A slave handed him a pair of thick horsehair mittens, and he pulled them on, never so much as looking at the man. The longsword crunched through mail and leather and flesh. Shae stepped back and looked him over.
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