The little scribe bowed. The usurper, he said. When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose mustysmell still reminded her of Drogo. She thought she could see thebeginnings of fear wake in his eyes.
Still, Merrett took it for abad omen. His greatbrown stomach and sagging chest were bare above the yellow silk sash knottedabout his waist, an A bird began tochirp in the persimmon tree, and then two more. The wildling archers shot as they advanced; they would dash forward, stop,loose, then run another ten yards.
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