Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords.

Ofttimes A Very Small Man Can Cast A Very Large Shadow.

The Women Are The Strong Ones, Truly.

Even The Sky Was Grey. Grey And Grey And Greyer. The Whole World Grey, Everywhere You Look, Everything Grey Except The Eyes Of The Bride. The Eyes Of The Bride Were Brown. Big And Brown And Full Of Fear.

His Cloak Was His Crowning Glory; Sable, Thick And Black And Soft As Sin.

It Was The Easiest Thing In The World For Arya To Step Up Behind Him And Stab Him. “is There Gold Hidden In The Village?” She Shouted As She Drove The Blade Up Through His Back. “is There Silver? Gems?” She Stabbed Twice More. “is There Food? Where Is Lord Beric?” She Was On Top Of Him By Then, Still Stabbing. “where Did He Go? How Many Men Were With Him? How Many Knights? How Many Bowmen? How Many, How Many, How Many, How Many, How Many, How Many? Is There Gold In The Village?