It's a tale I'll tell mygrandchildren. Rain pattered against the smooth planks of the deck and splashed offthe tall carved horseheads fore and aft. On hischest they placed a painted wooden sword, his fingers curled about its hilt. He ate another seed.
None of it will do you a bit of good. The Hound was unimpressed. The river smells were rich and wet, but those werenot the smells that pulled her. Do not trifle with me, my lord.
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