She could give him another son. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name. His eyes stung. I will not have any of them coming south with us.
Jon could feel the weight of all those tiny black eyes. I beg you allow me to accompany you to the Eyrie, to see the end of the tale as I saw its beginnings. Jon looked up happily as his uncle Ben put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair much as Jon had ruffled the wolf s. Gregor has always favored huge, ill-tempered stallions with more spirit than sense.
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