Chapter 19 Chapter 18 Bran

He kept falling, as if for many, many years. Fly, a voice whispered in the dark, but Bran didn't know how to fly, so he kept falling. Maester Luwin once made a clay doll, roasted it hard and brittle, dressed it in Bran's clothes, and threw it from a tower.Bran always remembered how the clay doll was smashed to pieces. "But I will never fall," he said, and continued to fall. Although there was gray mist all around, he couldn't see how far the ground was, but he could feel how fast he was falling, and he knew what was waiting for him below.Even in a dream, you can't keep falling like this forever.He knew that he would wake up the moment before landing, and people always wake up the moment before landing.

What if you can't wake up?the voice asked. The ground became closer. Although it was still far away and thousands of miles apart, it was always closer.It was dark and cold in the middle of the sky, there was no sun, no stars, only the earth, the gray fog, and this strange whisper.He wanted to cry so much. Don't cry, fly. "I can't fly," Bran said, "no, no..." how do you know?have you tried The voice was high and shrill, and Bran looked around for its source.He saw a crow spiraling down after him, but kept out of his reach. "Help me," he said. I'm trying to figure it out, the crow replied, hey, do you have corn?

The darkness swirled dizzily around him, and Bran reached into his pocket, and when he pulled it out, golden grains slipped from his fingers and fell with him. The crow landed on his hand and began to peck at it. "Are you really a crow?" Bran asked. Are you really falling?Crow asked back. "It was just a dream," Bran said. Yeah?the crow asked again. "Of course I wake up when I hit the ground," Bran told the bird. You'll die when you hit the ground, said the crow, and went off to eat the corn. Bran looked down, and now he could see the snow-capped mountains, the trails of silver rivers winding through the deep green woods.He closed his eyes and began to cry.

Crying is useless, said the crow, as I said, the only way is to fly, not to shed tears.What's the problem?Am I flying?The crow soared into the air, flapping its wings, around Bran's hand. "But you have wings," Bran pointed out. Maybe you have too. Bran groped along his shoulders for his feathers. There is more than one kind of wing, said the crow. Bran saw his hands and feet, so thin, as thin as skin and bones.Has he always been this thin?He tried to remember.A face emerged from the gray mist, shining with golden light. "Think about what I've done for love," it said.

Bran screamed. The crow flew into the air, quacking.Not that, it hissed at him, forget that, it's not what you need now, forget that, put that thought away.It landed on Bran's shoulder, pecked him, and the bright golden face disappeared. At this time, Bran fell faster and faster, rushing towards the ground, and the gray fog roared in his ears. "What have you done to me?" he asked the crow with tears in his eyes. I am teaching you to fly. "I can't fly!" You are flying right now. "I'm falling!" Flying starts with falling, said the crow, looking down.

"I'm afraid..." look down! Bran looked down and felt his insides melt.The ground was coming towards him, and the whole world spread out like a colorful tapestry below.Everything was so clear that he even temporarily forgot his fear.You can have a panoramic view of the whole territory of the kingdom and all kinds of people walking in it. He looked down on Winterfell like an eagle soaring in the sky. From a height, the tall towers looked squat and squat, and the city walls became lines on the dirt.He saw Maester Luwin on the balcony, observing the sky through a polished bronze tube, frowning and scribbling in a notepad.He saw his brother Robb, taller and stronger than he remembered him, practicing swordplay in the yard with real steel in his hand.He saw Hodor, the simple-minded giant who worked in the stable, carrying the anvil as easily as a man lifts a sheaf of rice to the forge of Mikken the smith.In the depths of the godswood, tall pale weirwoods brooded upon their reflections in black pools, their leaves rustling in the cold wind.When it realized that Bran was looking at him, it raised its eyes from the still water and looked back at him steadily.

Looking east, he saw a sailboat riding the wind and waves across Bite Bay.He saw his mother sitting alone in the cabin, staring at a blood-stained sharp knife on the table in front of her.The sailors rowed hard, and Ser Rodrik leaned against the spar, trembling and panting.A storm was forming ahead of them, a roaring, rolling cloud, filled with boundless thunder and lightning, but somehow they couldn't see it. He looked south again and saw the blue and green waters of the Trident River rushing mightily; Leah watched quietly, keeping the secret in her heart.They were all shrouded in shadows, one as black as ashes, with a face as terrifying as a hound, and the other in shining golden armor, as beautiful as the sun.Behind them stood a giant in stone armor, even taller. When he took off his mask, there was nothing inside, only endless darkness and thick black blood.

He raised his eyes, looked across the narrow sea, and looked clearly at the Free Trade City and the Dothraki Grassland beyond like a green ocean, at the foot of the peaks at Vaes Dothraki, at the legendary land of Jade Sea, Towards the Shadowlands beyond Asshai, where dragons sway in the early dawn sun. Finally, he looked northward and saw the Great Wall shining like blue crystal, and saw his illegitimate brother Jon sleeping alone on a cold bed. The memory of warmth and heat gradually faded away, and his skin became pale and firm.He looked beyond the Wall, across endless snow-covered forests, across frozen river banks, vast blue-and-white glaciers, and dead ice fields where there was no sign of living things.He kept looking northward, toward the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then through that curtain of light, looking into the heart of winter, when he cried out in fear, hot tears burning on his cheeks.

Do you know now?The crow sat on his shoulder and whispered, now you know why you want to live, right? "Why?" Bran asked puzzled, still falling, falling. Because winter is coming. Bran looked at the crow on his shoulder, and the crow looked at him.It had three eyes, and the third eye was filled with a terrible knowledge.Bran looked down again, and there was nothing below now but ice and cold and death, a frozen wasteland studded with jagged needles of blue and white ice, waiting to embrace him.They came at him like flying spears, and he saw that they were covered with the dry bones of a thousand dreamers, and a wave of hopeless terror came over him.

"Can a person still be brave when he is afraid?" He heard his own small and distant voice say so. Then the father's voice answered, "A man is only brave when he is afraid." Now, Bran, the crow urges, you have to make a choice, if you don't fly, you will fall to your death. Death screamed and stretched out its claws towards him. Bran stretched his arms and flew. Unseen wings drank the wind, filled the air, and carried him aloft.The terrifying ice needles below gradually subsided, and the sky suddenly opened up.Bran spread his wings and it felt better than climbing walls, better than anything.The world below him was getting smaller and smaller.

"I can fly!" he exclaimed happily. I know, said the Three-Eyed Raven.It flapped its wings, flapping his cheeks, slowing him and obscuring his vision.He couldn't help swaying in the air.The crow's beak pecked hard into the center of his forehead, between the eyes, and Bran felt a sudden, sharp pain. "What are you doing?" he screamed. The crow opened its mouth and quacked at him, it was a piercing cry full of fear, and then the gray mist that had enveloped him suddenly began to tremble and spin, as if a curtain had been lifted, and he realized that the crow was a black-haired waitress.He seemed to have seen her somewhere, in Winterfell, yes, that's right, now he remembered her.Then he realized that he was in Winterfell, on a bed in some cold tower room, and the dark-haired woman accidentally dropped a basin of water on the floor.Ignoring the broken basin, she ran down the stairs, shouting, "He's awake! He's awake! He's awake!" Bran touched between the eyes, where the crow pecked was still hot, but there was no mark on his forehead, neither bleeding nor wound.He felt weak and dizzy, and tried to get out of bed, but couldn't move. At this moment, there was movement beside the bed, something jumped onto his feet lightly, looking into his eyes with a pair of bright yellow eyes like shining suns.The windows were open, and it was cold in the house, but the warmth from the wolf enveloped him like a hot bath.Bran had just realized it was his pup... really?He has grown so big.He stretched out his trembling hands like falling leaves to touch him. When his brother Robb ran up the tower in three steps at a time and rushed into the room out of breath, the direwolf was licking Bran's face.Bran raised his head and said peacefully, "I'm going to call it 'Summer'."