Jon smiled. The war had not ended until the day she and Lysa had been wed. They were struggling on the slopes, pikes thrusting against another wall of shields, these oval and reinforced with iron studs. The skin had smelled of blood and mold, but it was warm and thick.
The last part was the scramble up the blackened stones to the eyrie, no more than ten feet, and then the crows would come round to see if you'd brought any corn. A heavy figure in black was leaning on the winch, while a second held the cage with a gloved hand. How long do you imagine such a rabble would stand against the charge of forty thousand screamers howling for blood? How well And with that, Ser Alliser Thorne took his leave of them.
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