A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

her shoulder. “I never truly kicked no boy to death, Arry. I just
sold my mommy’s pies, is all.”
    Arya rode as far ahead of the wagons as she dared, so she wouldn’t have to hear
the little girl crying or listen to the woman whisper, “Please.” She
remembered a story Old Nan had told once, about a man imprisoned in a dark
castle by evil giants. He was very brave and smart and he tricked the giants
and escaped . . . but no sooner was he outside the castle than
the Others took him, and drank his hot red blood. Now she knew how he must have
felt.
    The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her grave on a
hillside beneath a weeping willow. When the wind blew, Arya thought she could
hear the long trailing branches whispering, “Please. Please. Please.” The
little hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she almost ran from the
graveside.
    â€œNo fire tonight,” Yoren told them. Supper was a handful of wild radishes
Koss found, a cup of dry beans, water from a nearby brook. The water had a
funny taste to it, and Lommy told them it was the taste of bodies, rotting
someplace upstream. Hot Pie would have hit him if old Reysen hadn’t pulled them
apart.
    Arya drank too much water, just to fill her belly with something. She never
thought she’d be able to sleep, yet somehow she did. When she woke, it was
pitch-black and her bladder was

full to bursting. Sleepers huddled all around her, wrapped in blankets and
cloaks. Arya found Needle, stood, listened. She heard the soft footfalls of a
sentry, men turning in restless sleep, Rorge’s rattling snores, and the queer
hissing sound that Biter made when he slept. From a different wagon came the
steady rhythmic scrape of steel on stone as Yoren sat, chewing sourleaf and
sharpening the edge of his dirk.
    Hot Pie was one of the boys on watch. “Where you going?” he asked when he saw
Arya heading for the trees.
    Arya waved vaguely at the woods.
    â€œNo you’re not,” Hot Pie said. He had gotten bolder again now that he had a
sword on his belt, even though it was just a shortsword and he handled it like
a cleaver. “The old man said for everyone to stay close tonight.”
    â€œI need to make water,” Arya explained.
    â€œWell, use that tree right there.” He pointed. “You don’t know what’s out
there, Arry. I heard wolves before.”
    Yoren wouldn’t like it if she fought with him. She tried to look afraid.
“Wolves? For true?”
    â€œI heard,” he assured her.
    â€œI don’t think I need to go after all.” She went back to her blanket and
pretended to sleep until she heard Hot Pie’s footsteps going away. Then she
rolled over and slipped off into the woods on the other side of the camp, quiet
as a shadow. There were sentries out this way too, but Arya had no trouble
avoiding them. Just to make sure, she went out twice as far as usual.

When she was sure there was no one near, she skinned down her breeches and
squatted to do her business.
    She was making water, her clothing tangled about her ankles, when she heard
rustling from under the trees.
Hot Pie,
she thought in panic,
he
followed me.
Then she saw the eyes shining out from the wood, bright with
reflected moonlight. Her belly clenched tight as she grabbed for Needle, not
caring if she pissed herself, counting eyes, two four eight twelve, a whole
pack . . .
    One of them came padding out from under the trees. He stared at her, and bared
his teeth, and all she could think was how stupid she’d been and how Hot Pie
would gloat when they found her half-eaten body the next morning. But the wolf
turned and raced back into the darkness, and quick as that the eyes were gone.
Trembling, she cleaned herself and laced up and followed a distant scraping
sound back to camp, and to Yoren. Arya climbed up into the wagon beside him,
shaken. “Wolves,” she whispered hoarsely. “In the woods.”
    â€œAye. They would be.” He never looked at her.
    â€œThey scared me.”
    â€œDid they?” He spat. “Seems to me your kind was fond o’ wolves.”
    â€œNymeria was a direwolf.” Arya hugged herself. “That’s different. Anyhow,
she’s gone. Jory and I threw rocks at her until she ran off, or else the queen
would have killed her.” It made her sad to talk about it. “I bet if