It was the reply she had expected, no more and no less. At the heart of the godswood, the great white weirwood brooded over its reflection in the black pool, its leaves rustling in a chill wind. Your first battle? Bronn asked later as he bent over Jyck's body, pulling off his boots. Ought to do the same for you.
No, he said again. Catelyn is truly here? This is not some strange jape of Littlefinger's? He sheathed his blade. Her eyes filled with tears. Methodically, he began to strip off his mail, leather, and sweat-soaked woolens.
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