Wood shattered, and the Hound reeled, fighting to keep his seat. She had seen Bronn fight on the high road; it was no accident that he had survived the journey while other men had died. Slit his throat in the woods, and when they found him, he stood there cool as you please and said it was some old boar did for His Grace. Not truly.
Jaqqa rhan moved among them, the mercy men with their heavy axes, taking a harvest of heads from the dead and dying alike. Yet I ask you this-should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripp It was Septa Mordane and her mother. How could they hope to comprehend? He turned away from them abruptly and strode off, sullen.
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