Chapter 38 Chapter 38 Brienne

They encountered the first body about a mile from the intersection. The body hangs from the branches of a dead tree struck by lightning, the trunk marked by burns.Scavenger crows were pecking at his face, and the wolves had eaten his calves near the ground, leaving only bones and rags below the knees... plus a chewed-up shoe, half buried in the soil. "What's in his mouth?" Podrick asked. Brienne had to steady herself before looking.The dead body's face was a hideous gray-green, its mouth stretched open.Someone shoved a jagged white stone between his teeth.a stone, or...

"Salt," said Septon Meribald. Fifty yards further on, they found a second body.Scavengers had dragged him down, and the remains were strewn across the ground, above which a tattered loop of rope hung from an elm branch.If the dog hadn't sniffed him and jumped into the grass to search, Brienne might have ridden past him without knowing it. "What did you find, dog?" Ser Hyle dismounted, and strode after the dog, picking up a half-helm.The heads of the dead were still inside, along with countless worms and beetles. "Good steel," he asserted, "and not too dented, though the lion's head is off. Would you like a helmet, Pod?"

"Not that roof. It's got bugs in it." "The bugs will be gone after washing, boy, don't be poor and fastidious like a girl." Brienne frowned. "It's too big for him." "He's going to grow up." "I don't want it," Podrick emphasized.Ser Hyle shrugged, and tossed the broken lionhelm back into the grass.The dog barked, ran to the tree, and crossed one leg. After that, dead bodies were encountered every hundred yards.They hang from trees of every kind: ash, alder, beech, birch, larch, elm, old willow, stately chestnut, and so on.Everyone had nooses around their necks, dangling from the trees, and everyone's mouths were stuffed with salt.They wore robes of grey, blue, or crimson, but rain and sun had faded them so badly that it was hard to tell them apart.Someone had a coat of arms stitched on their chest, and Brienne found some axes and arrows and salmon, a pine tree, an oak leaf, some beetles and bantam roosters, a boar's head, and six tridents.These are deserters, she realized, disabled people created by various princes, waste abandoned by lords and lords.

Some dead people are bald, some have beards, some are young, some are old, some are short, some are tall, some are fat, some are thin.They all looked the same, bloated corpses, gnawed faces.Above the gallows, all are equal.Brienne had read about it in a book, but she couldn't remember which one. Hyle Hunter finally said what they were all aware of. "These are the people who robbed Saltpan Town." "May the Father judge them severely," said Meribald, a friend of the old monk from Saltpans. Who they were wasn't as important to Brienne as who hung them.Hanging was the preferred method of execution for Beric Dondarrion's gang, and if so, the so-called Lord Lightning might be around the corner.

The dog barked, and Septon Meribald looked around, frowning. "Shouldn't we hurry up? The sun is going down, and dead bodies are not good company at night. These people are evil in life, and I suspect they are no better in death." "I don't agree with that," said Ser Hyle. "It would be better for these men to be dead." Still, he kicked his horse with his heels, picking up a little speed. Going forward, the trees gradually thinned out, but there were still so many corpses.Forests became muddy plains, and gallows took the place of branches.Dense crows screamed and flew up from the corpse, and when they passed by, they landed again.These are villains, Brienne reminded herself, but the sight made her sad nonetheless.She forced herself to look in turn, looking for familiar faces.She thought some of them had been seen at Harrenhal, but it was hard to be sure because of the state of their bodies.Nobody wore Hound helmets, not many at all.Most were stripped of their weapons, armor and boots before being hung up.

Podrick asked about the hotel where he was staying tonight, Brother Meribald immediately explained enthusiastically, maybe he wanted to distract everyone from thinking about those creepy sentries by the roadside. "Some people call it the 'Old Inn.' There have been inns there for hundreds of years, but this one was built during the time of Jaehaerys I, the king who built the Kingsroad. It is said that Jaehaerys and his The Queen slept there on her travels - for a while it was called the 'Twin Crown Inn' in honor of it, until a clock tower was built by an innkeeper, and the inn was renamed 'The Belling Inn'. Later, its Ownership passed to a lame knight named 'Lame' Jon Hyde, who, when he was too old to fight, took up blacksmithing and had a newly cast sign hung on a pole in the yard - a three-headed Dark Iron Black Dragon. The monster is so huge that it is composed of more than a dozen pieces of iron tied together with ropes. Whenever the wind blows, it will jingle, so the "Xianglong Inn" is famous all over the world. "

"Is the dragon still there?" Podrick asked. "Not anymore," said Brother Meribald. "When the blacksmith's son became an old man, one of Aegon IV's illegitimate sons rebelled against his blood brother. He used the black dragon as his emblem. At that time, this land belonged to Darry Earl, Lord Earl is utterly loyal to the king. When he saw the black dragon, he became furious, chopped down the wooden pole, split the signboard into pieces, and threw it into the river. Many years later, one of the dragon heads was washed up on the Silent Island. At this time It was covered with red rust. The owner didn't put up any other signs, and people gradually forgot about the dragon, and began to call it the 'Riverside Inn'. At that time, the Trident River flowed through its back door, and half of the hotel building was on the water. Come on. It is said that guests can catch salmon by throwing their fishing lines out the window, and there is also a ferry dock where travelers can ferry to Lord Harroway's town and Whitewalls."

"We crossed the Trident on the south side, and then rode northwest...not toward the river, but away from it." "Yes, ma'am," said the Friar, "the river has shifted. Was that seventy years ago? Or was it eighty years ago? Anyway, old Martha Hyde's grandfather ran the place. That's what she told Mine. Martha was a good woman, and liked to chew sour grass and eat honey cakes. If she had no room for me, she let me sleep by the fire, and sent me extra bread and cheese and a few old cake." "Is she the current shopkeeper?" Podrick asked. "No, the lion hanged her. After they left, I heard that one of her nephews tried to reopen the hotel, but because of the war, the roads were too dangerous for common people, so there were no customers. He had to bring in whores, but it still couldn't be saved. Business. I heard a certain lord killed him too."

Sir Hyle grimaced. "I never dreamed that running a hotel could be so dangerous." "The real danger is being a commoner while someone else is playing Game of Thrones," Brother Meribald said. "Isn't that right, Dog?" the Dog barked in agreement. "So," Podrick said, "does the inn have a name now?" "The people call it the Inn at the Crossroads. The elders tell me that two of Martha Hyde's nieces have joined forces to make it open again." He held up his stick. "If the gods be willing, it is from its chimney that the smoke rises behind the hanged men."

"They should have called the place 'The Gallows Inn,'" remarked Sir Hale. Whatever the inn was called, it was large, three stories high, rising between the muddy roads, its walls and towers and chimneys all of fine white stone, gleaming palely against the gray sky.The south wing is built on heavy wooden piles, and the ground below is a low-lying cracked land, overgrown with weeds and brown withered grass; the north wing is attached to a thatched stable and a clock tower.The whole building is surrounded by a low wall, built of white gravel and covered with moss. At least no one burned it.In contrast, only death and barrenness are left to Yanchang Town.By the time Brienne and her friends crossed from the Quiet Isle, the survivors had fled and the dead had been delivered to the ground, leaving only the wreckage of the town itself exposed, ash everywhere.The air was full of the smell of smoke and dust, and the seagulls were circling overhead, making a very human-like cry, as if it were a lament for the children who had passed away.Even the castle looked forlorn and deserted, gray the same color as the town's ashes, its square keep overlooking the quays, surrounded by curtain walls.Brienne and the others led their horses off the ferry, the castle was tightly closed, and the only moving objects on the battlements were the flags.The dogs barked, and Brother Meribald knocked on the main door with his stick. It took a quarter of an hour before a woman appeared above and asked them what was the matter.

The ferry had left and it was starting to rain. "I am a godly monk, my good lady," Meribald called up. "These are righteous travelers. We want to find a shelter from the rain and spend the night by your hearth." The woman paid no heed to his plea. "The nearest inn is at the Crossroads, west," she replied, "We don't welcome strangers here. Come on." After she disappeared, neither Meribald's entreaties, nor the dogs' barking, nor Sir Hyle's cursing could do. Let her come back again.They ended up spending the night in the woods, hiding under cover of branches. However, there are people in the inn at the crossroads.Before she got to the gate, Brienne heard hammering, faint but steady, like steel. "The forge," said Ser Hyle, "either there is a blacksmith here, or the ghost of the old shop is forging another iron dragon." He kicked the horse with his heel. "Hope they still have a ghost chef, a crunchy roast chicken is enough to take away all the troubles of the day." The hotel yard was a big brown mud, and the horses were uncomfortable.The hammering sounded louder.Brienne saw the red light of a forge behind an ox cart with a broken wheel at the far end of the stable.There were still some horses in the stables, and an old gallows stood in the yard, with a little boy dangling from its rusty chains.Four girls stood on the porch watching him, the youngest was no more than two years old and naked, the oldest nine or ten years old, wrapping her arms around the little one. "My children," Ser Hyle called to them, "call your mother quickly." The boy jumped off the chain and ran to the stable.The four girls stood there in panic.After a while, one of them said, "We don't have a mother." Another added, "I would have, but they killed her." The oldest of the four stepped forward and pushed the youngest back up her skirt. "Who are you?" she demanded. "An upright traveler seeking lodging. My name is Brienne, and this is Septon Meribald, well known in the riverlands. The boy is my squire, Podrick Payne, and the knight is Hyle Hunter Sir." The pounding stopped suddenly.The girl watched them from the porch with all the alertness of a ten-year-old. "My name is Weeping Willow. Do you want a bed?" "Beds, ale, and a hot meal to fill your belly," said Sir Hyle Hunt, dismounting his horse. "You are the innkeeper?" She shook her head. "My sister Jenny is, but she's not here. All we have is horsemeat. If you come for whores, there's none here. My sister sends them away. But we have beds. Some are feather beds, straw more. "All lice, I have no doubt," said Sir Hyle. "Do you have money? Silver?" Sir Hyle laughed. "Money? A bed of bugs for a night, plus a piece of horse meat? Are you robbing, little sister?" "We want silver coins, otherwise you go to sleep with the dead in the woods." Weeping Willow glanced at the donkey and the barrel and parcel on its back. "Eat? Where did you get it?" "Maidenspool," Meribald said.The dog barked. "You always question your guests like that?" asked Sir Hyle. "We don't have many customers, not like before the war. Now the roads are mostly sparrows, or worse." "Worse?" Brienne asked. "Thief," said a boy's voice from the stables, "robber." Brienne turned and saw the ghost. Renly.Even if her heart was hit by a hammer, she would not be so panicked. "My lord?" She opened her mouth wide. "My lord?" The boy brushed aside a lock of black hair hanging in front of his eyes, "I'm just a blacksmith." He was not Renly, Brienne realized, and Renly was dead.Renly died in my arms.Renly was a man of twenty-one, and this one was just a boy.But he was too much like Renly when he first came to Tarth.No, he was smaller than Renly was then.He has a wider jaw and thicker eyebrows.Renly was slender and graceful, but the boy had thick shoulders and strong arms like a blacksmith's.His chest was bare beneath a long leather apron, a black stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and his thick black hair grew past his ears.King Renly's hair was the same charcoal black, but it was always well combed, sometimes cut short, sometimes thrown loose over his shoulders, or tied back with a golden headband, never tangled and sticky. Smudged with sweat.And, though the boy's eyes were equally blue, Lord Renly's were warm and passionate, full of laughter, while his were full of anger and suspicion. Septon Meribald saw it too. "We mean no harm, boy. When Martha Hyde kept the hotel, she used to give me a honey cake, and sometimes even a bed, if it wasn't full." "She is dead," said the boy. "The Lion hanged her." "Hanging seems to be your favorite form of amusement," said Sir Hyle Hunt. "I just want to farm nearby, grow marijuana, sell hemp rope, and make a lot of money." "All these children," Brienne said to the girl Willow, "are your...sisters? Brothers? Relatives?" "No." Weeping Willow was staring at her, she was familiar with this kind of gaze. "They're just... I don't know... some were brought by the sparrows, and the rest were found by themselves. You are a woman, why do you dress like a man?" Septon Meribald replied, "Miss Brienne is a warrior woman on a mission, and she needs a dry bed and a warm fire right now. So do we. It's going to rain again soon, my old bones say. Yes. Do you have room for us??" "No," said the blacksmith boy. "Yes." The girl Weeping Willow said. The two stared at each other, and finally Weeping Willow stomped. "They have something to eat, Gendry. The little ones are hungry." She whistled, and as if by magic, many children appeared, all in rags.Shaggy-haired boys crawled out from under the porches, and girls crept in at the windows facing the courtyard.Some children clutched their fully-strung crossbows. "So this is the 'Crossbow Inn'." Sir Hale concluded. "The Orphan's Inn" would be more appropriate, Brienne thought. "Walter, help them tend the horses," Weeping Willow said. "Will, put down the rocks, they're not enemies. Tansy, Pate, go find some wood to add to the fire. You help the Friar Unload the pockets. I'll take them to their room." They asked for three adjoining rooms, each with a feather bed, a chamber pot, and a window.Brienne also had a fireplace in her room, and she paid a few extra for the firewood. "Should I sleep in your room or Ser Hyle's?" Podrick asked as she opened the shutters. "This is not a quiet island," she told him, "you can live with me." She planned to take Pod and set off on her own early next morning.Septon Meribald was going to Nutton, Riverbend, and Lord Holroway's town, and Brienne didn't think it was necessary to go with him, since he had dogs for company.Besides, the elders had convinced her that there was no Sansa Stark to be found along the Three Rivers. "I'm going to get up before sunrise, while Ser Hyle is still asleep." Brienne hadn't forgiven him about Highgarden...and Hunt himself had said that he hadn't made any vows about Sansa. "Where are we going, ser? I mean, miss?" Brienne had no answer.They really are at a crossroads; where the King's Road, the Riverside Road, and the Mountain Road meet.The mountain roads would lead them through the mountains to the Vale, where Lady Sansa's aunt had ruled before her death; Hold on; or follow the Kingsroad north, past the Twins, and across the boggy Neck.Whoever controls Moat Cailin will then be able to reach Winterfell along the Kingsroad if she manages to get through. Or I could go south on the Kingsroad, Brienne thought, and sneak back to King's Landing, admit defeat to Ser Jaime, return his sword, and find a ship back home to Tarth, as the elders advised.It was a bitter thought, but part of her longed to go back to Evenfall Hall, to her father, and part of her wondered if Jaime would comfort her if she wept on his shoulder.That's what guys want, isn't it?Weak and helpless women need their protection. "Sir? Mademoiselle? I asked, where are we going?" "Go to the hall below and have dinner." The hall was full of children.Brienne tried to count them, but they didn't stand still for a moment, so some counted two or three times, some didn't count once, and finally she gave up.They pushed the tables together in long rows of three.The older boys struggled to get out of the bench from the back—in this case, older meant ten to twelve years old.Gendry was closest to an adult, but it was Weeping Willow who called the shots, as if she were the queen in the castle and the other children were mere servants. If she was of noble birth, the out of place attitude of the other children would be natural to her.Brienne suspects that Weeping Willow is not as simple as it seems.She was too young and not pretty enough to be Sansa Stark, but the same age as Sansa's sister.Lady Catelyn says Arya is not as pretty as her sister.Brown hair, brown eyes, skinny...could it be her?Arya Stark's hair was brown, Brienne remembered, but she couldn't make out the color of her eyes.Brown eyes and brown hair, is that so?Was it possible that she hadn't actually died in Saltpans? Outside the door, the last ray of light was fading. Inside, Weeping Willow ordered four greasy tallow candles to be lit, and then asked the girls to burn the fire high and vigorously.The boys helped Podrick Payne unpack his donkey, and brought in the salt cod, mutton, vegetables, nuts, and rounds of cheese, while Septon Meribald went to the kitchen to cook porridge. "Unfortunately, my oranges are all gone. I'm afraid I won't see them again until spring," he told a little boy. "Have you ever eaten them, kid? Squeeze out the delicious juice and suck them?" The boy shook his head in denial, and the monk kneaded Rubbed his hair. "I'll bring you one in the spring, if you'll be a good boy and help me stir the porridge." Sir Hyle took off his boots and warmed his feet by the fire.He nodded toward the far corner of the room when Brienne sat down next to him. "There was blood on the floor and the dog was sniffing. It was scrubbed, but the blood seeped into the wood and couldn't be removed." "Sandor Clegane killed three of his brother's men in this inn," she reminded him. "Yes," Hunter agreed, "but who's to say whether the three of them were the first hapless...or the last?" "How many children are you afraid of?" "Four is a few, ten is too many, and there are far more than ten here. Babies are supposed to be swaddled and hung on the walls until girls grow breasts and boys are old enough to shave. " "I feel sorry for them. They all lost their parents, and some even watched their parents die." Hunter rolled his eyes. "I forgot that I was talking to a woman. Your heart is like a monk's porridge, soft, isn't it? Deep down in our Jian girl's heart, she is actually a mother who is about to give birth, longing for a cute pink baby Suck on your own tits," Ser Hyle grinned. "Listen, to achieve your dreams, you first need a man. Preferably a husband. Why not me?" "If you still hope to win the bet—" "I want to win you, Lord Selwyn's only surviving child. There are those who are willing to marry a weakling or even a suckling babe for a tenth of Tarth's return. I confess that I am not Renly Baratheon, but I'm alive and well - some would say that's the only good thing about me. Marriage is good for both of us, I get the land, you get the castle." He gestured to the children one time. "I'm capable, I assure you. I have at least one known illegitimate child. Don't be afraid, I won't let her burden you. The last time I went to see her, her mother spilled a pot of soup on me." A blush crept up her neck. "My father is only fifty-four years old, not too old, and he can continue to have children." "It's a risk I take... If your father remarries, if his bride can conceive, if the baby is a boy, then I'm wrong." "And lose the bet. Play your game with someone else, ser." "A virgin who has never played games will say that. After you play, it will naturally change. Believe me, in the dark, you are as beautiful as any princess, and your lips were born for kissing." "A lip is a lip," Brienne said, "and all lips are the same." "All lips are made for kissing," agreed Hunter cheerfully. "Leave your door unlocked tonight, and I'll sneak into your bed and prove my word." "You'll be a eunuch when you leave." Brienne stood up and walked away. Brother Meribald asked if he could take the children to pray.He ignored a naked little girl crawling across the table. "Yes." Weeping Willow agreed, and picked her up just before the child crawling over the table touched the pot of porridge.So they all bowed their heads together to thank Heavenly Father and Mother for the alms... except for the black-haired boy in the smithy, who folded his arms and stared at the others in prayer.Brienne was not the only one who noticed this strangeness. After praying, Brother Meribald looked across the table, "Don't you love the gods, child?" "God who doesn't love you." Gendry stood up suddenly. "I have work to do." He stalked out without taking a bite. "What god does he love?" asked Hyle Hunter. "The Lord of Light," said a thin boy, about six years old, in a thin voice. Weeping Willow tapped him with a spoon, "Ben the Big Mouth. There is food here. Just eat and don't disturb the conversation of the grown-ups." Children pounce on their supper like wolves devouring a wounded deer.They scrambled over the cod, tore the barley bread to pieces, scattered the porridge, and soon disappeared even the gigantic wheel of cheese.Brienne used some fish and bread and carrots, while Septon Meribald gave the dogs two for one bite himself.It started to rain outside, the fire crackled inside, and the hall was filled with the sound of chewing and willows slapping children with spoons. "Some day the little girl will be the fierce wife of some man," commented Sir Hale, "probably the poor apprentice boy." "Someone should bring him some food before it's all gone." "That person is you." So she wrapped a corner of cheese, a piece of bread, a dried apple, and two thin slices of fried cod in the cloth.Podrick got up to follow, she told him to sit back and eat, "I'll be back soon." It was raining heavily in the yard.Brienne raised her cloak over the food.Some horses neighed at her as they passed the stables.They are also hungry. Gendry was by the fire, hammering a sword as if it were his enemy.His chest was bare under his leather apron, and his sweat-soaked hair hung over his forehead.She stared for a moment.He had Renly's eyes and hair, but a different build.Lord Renly was lanky, not so strong and stocky... unlike his brother Robert, who was famous for his strength. Gendry saw her standing there when he stopped to wipe his forehead. "What are you doing?" "I brought dinner." She opened the cloth bag to show him. "If I want to eat, I can move myself." "Eat more to have the strength to strike iron." "You are my mother?" "No," she put down the food. "Who is your mother?" "none of your business?" "You were born in King's Landing." She could tell from the way he spoke. "Me and many others." He quenched the sword by dipping it in a tub of rainwater.The hot iron hissed angrily. "How old are you?" Brienne asked. "Is your mother still alive? And your father, who is he?" "You're asking too much." He lowered his sword. "My mother died and I never knew my father." "You're a bastard." He took it as an insult. "I am a knight. That sword is for myself, when it is forged." What does it matter for a knight to work in a smithy? "You have black hair, blue eyes, and were born under the Red Keep. Has no one ever commented on your face?" "What's wrong with my face? It's not as ugly as yours." "You must have seen King Robert in King's Landing." He shrugged. "A few times. At the tourney, from a distance. Once in the Sept of Baelor, the gold robes pushed us aside to let him pass. Another time when he returned from hunting, I Playing near the Mud Gate. He was so drunk that he nearly knocked me over on horseback. The fat drunkard, he's a better king than his sons." They are not his sons.Stannis had been right the day he negotiated with Renly.Joffrey and Tommen were not Robert's sons at all.And the boy... "Listen," Brienne said, when the dog barked loudly, "someone's coming." "Friends." Gendry said nonchalantly. "What friend?" Brienne walked to the door of the smithy and looked out through the rain. He shrugged, "You'll see you soon." Maybe I don't want to see them, Brienne thought.The first rider rushed into the yard on the splash of water, and through the patter of rain and the barking of dogs, she heard the slight clash of sword and armor under the other's tattered cloak.She counted them as they came in.Two, four, six, seven.Judging by the way they were riding, some were injured.The last one was big and round, the size of two others.Panting and bloodied, his horse staggered under the weight.Except for him, all riders put on their hoods to keep out the torrential rain.The face of this man was broad and hairless, like a white maggot, and his round face was covered with pus-filled pimples. Brienne gasped, and drew Oathkeeper.Too many, she thought in horror, too many of them. "Gendry," she whispered, "with swords and armor. These are not your friends. They are no one's friends." "What did you say?" The boy came and stood beside her, hammer in hand. Lightning split the southern sky, and the riders dismounted.For a moment, the night was as bright as day.An ax glowed silvery blue, and mail and plate reflected the light, and under the black hood of the first rider Brienne saw the muzzle of a dog baring steel teeth. Gendry saw it too. "It's him." "It's not him. It's his helmet." Brienne tried not to let the fear seep into her voice, but her mouth was as dry as dust.She knew very well who was wearing the Hound's helmet.what about the kidsshe thought. The inn door opened with a bang.The weeping willow walks into the rain with a crossbow in hand.The girl yelled at the riders, but a muffled thunder rolled across the courtyard drowning her words.When the thunder died down, Brienne heard the man in the Hound helmet say, "Shoot it and I'll stick that arrow in your hole and fuck you so hard I'll rip your goddamn eye out , feed you to eat." The anger in the visitor's words forced Weeping Willow to take a step back trembling. Seven, Brienne thought desperately again.Seven, she had no chance.There is no chance and no choice. She stepped into the rain with Oathkeeper in hand. "Don't touch her. If you want to rape, come to me and try." The gangsters turned their heads together, one of them laughed, and the other said something in a language Brienne couldn't understand.The broad-faced giant hissed viciously, and the man in the hound helmet laughed, "You're uglier than I remember. I'd rather fuck your horse." "Horses, we want horses," said one of the wounded. "Good horses and food. The bandits are after us. Hand over the horses and we will go. No harm to you." "Fuck you." The gangster in the Hound helmet yanked the tomahawk from the saddle. "I'm going to chop her fucking leg off and teach her to stick it up and watch me fuck that little whore with the crossbow." "For what?" Brienne sneered. "Shagway said they cut your nose and dick off." She provoked each other with words, and it worked.He roared and cursed, and rushed towards her, splashing black muddy water under his feet.As she prayed, the rest stood back and watched the show.Brienne was as still as a rock, waiting motionlessly.The yard was dimly lit and the soles of my feet were muddy and slippery.Let him rush over.Gods be merciful, may he slip and fall. The gods are not so merciful and can only rely on her sword.Brienne counted silently, five steps, four steps, and now, the Oathkeeper Sword slashed against his impact.Steel met, and her sword pierced through his rags, slicing a gash in his chain mail as the ax came down on her.She twisted away, stabbing his chest as she retreated. He staggered, bloodied, and roared angrily. "Bitch!" he growled lowly. "Freak! Bitch! I'm going to let the dog fuck you, fucking bastard!" The ax made a deadly arc, and every time the lightning flashed, the ruthless shadow transformed It is silver.Brienne didn't have a shield, so when the ax came, she had to dodge, dodging left and right.Once, her heels slipped on the muddy floor and she almost fell, trying to regain her balance with all her strength, but the ax inevitably grazed her left shoulder.A burning pain. "Hit that bitch!" one man yelled, and the other man said, "Look how she hides!" She avoided it, secretly glad that they were just watching the fun and didn't intervene to help.She couldn't fight seven people alone, even if one or two of them were wounded.Old Sir Goodwin, long dead, whispered in her ear again. "Men will always underestimate you," he said. "Pride drives them hard because they're afraid of being told they're being so messed up by a woman. Let them burn like crazy while you gather strength quietly. Wait, watch, boy, wait." , Observe." She waited, watched, moved sideways, backed up, moved sideways again, stabbed his face, chopped his legs, split his arms.His ax grew heavier and slower.Brienne turned him around, brought his eyes to the rain, and took two quick steps back.He picked up the ax again, cursed and staggered forward, slipping one foot in the mud... ... She clenched the hilt of the sword with both hands, and leaped forward.He slammed headfirst into the point, and Oathkeeper pierced through clothing, mail, leather.Then more clothes, deep in the belly, and out the back, making a rasping sound as it scrapes against the spine.The ax slipped from his limp fingers, and the two of them collided, Brienne's face meeting the dog's helmet, cold, wet metal pressed against her cheek.Rain poured down the steel, and when the lightning flashed again, she saw pain, fear, and disbelief through the cracks in her eyes. "Sapphire," she said softly to Rorge, twisting the sword so hard that he convulsed.He leaned heavily on her, and suddenly, what she was holding in the black rain was a corpse.She stepped back and let him fall... …and Fangs came crashing toward her, screaming. A mass of wet wool and milky flesh lifted her off the ground and slammed her to the ground.She fell suddenly into a puddle of mud, splashing into her nose and eyes, her chest suffocated, and her head hit a half-buried stone with a "crack". "No." Just as she had time to shout out the word, he had already thrown herself on top of her, pushing her into a deeper quagmire.He grabbed her hair with one hand and pulled her head back, while the other reached for her throat.Oathkeeper was nowhere to be seen, and she had to fight him with her bare hands, but a blow to his face was like hitting a cloud of soggy white flour.He hissed at her. She kept on punching him, punching him in the eyes with the heels of her palms, but he didn't notice.She clawed at his wrist again, but he squeezed even tighter, even though blood flowed from the scratched wound.He pinned her down, suffocating her.She pushed his shoulders and struggled desperately, but he was as heavy as a horse and could not be shaken.She wanted to push her knee against his crotch, but it only reached his stomach.Fang groaned and tore a handful of her hair. my dagger.Brienne clings to the thought desperately.She put her hand between the two of them and groped, her fingers squirming along his dirty and heavy rotten flesh, and finally found the handle of the knife.Fangs gripped her neck, smashing her head to the ground.The lightning exploded again, this time inside her skull, but she clenched her fingers tightly and pulled out the dagger.Being held down by him, she couldn't raise the dagger to stab, she could only scratch his belly with all her strength, and something warm and moist poured into her fingers.尖牙又嘶嘶怪叫起来，比先前更大声，然后他短暂地放开了她的喉咙，旋即殴打她的脸。她听见骨头碎裂，痛得头晕眼花。当她试图再拿刀划他时，他掰下她指间的匕首，用膝盖磕断了她的前臂。接着，他再次抓住她的脑袋，继续尝试将它从肩膀上扯下来。 布蕾妮听到狗儿的吠声，人们在周围喊叫，雷声轰鸣的间隙，有钢铁交击。海尔爵士，她心想，海尔爵士加入了战团，但所有的一切仿佛都那么遥远，与她毫不相干。她的世界只剩掐着脖子的双手和上方那张阴森森的脸。他越靠越近，雨水从兜帽滴落，呼吸像腐败的奶酪。 布蕾妮的胸腔如在燃烧，脑海的暴风雨令她目眩，浑身上下的骨头都在挤压摩擦。尖牙的嘴豁然张开，裂口大得难以想象。她看到扭曲不齐、锉尖的黄牙齿。当那些牙齿咬到她脸上的软肉时，几乎没有感觉。她在黑暗中盘旋下坠。我不能死，她告诉自己，我还有使命。 尖牙扯下一大团血肉，啐了一口，咧开嘴，再次将尖牙没入她的脸。这一次他咀嚼吞咽下去。他在吃我的肉，她意识到，可她再没力气抵抗了。她感觉自己仿佛漂浮在上方，看着这一幕恐怖景象，仿佛那是发生在别的女人身上，某个自以为是骑士的蠢女孩。很快就结束了，她告诉自己，他有没活活吃了我不重要了。尖牙仰起头，张开大嘴，厉声嚎叫，并朝她吐舌头。舌头十分尖利，滴着血，比正常人的长很多。它从他的嘴里延伸，越来越长，又红又湿，泛着微光，丑陋又污秽。他的舌头足有一尺长，布蕾妮心想，紧接着，黑暗吞没了她。哦，它看起来就像一把剑。