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Arya Stark Week Day 3: Death-Catelyn
As she dragged it up the muddy bank, one of her little brothers came prowling, his tongue lolling from his mouth. She had to snarl to drive him off, or else he would have fed. Only then did she stop to shake the water from her fur. The white thing lay facedown in the mud, her dead flesh wrinkled and pale, cold blood trickling from her throat. Rise, she thought. Rise and eat and run with us.
I could not bear to lose the girls as well…
The Kingslayer, he escaped in the night.
When would we be married? Soon? Or do we have to wait?