Flocks of crows squabbled noisily over each head, thick as flies. She chose a simple dress of dark grey wool, plainly cut but richly embroidered around the collar and sleeves. I could not bear it, Catelyn said, trembling. She heard the crunch of sword on mail, saw sparks fly as the long curved blade glanced off a gauntlet.
What areyou doing here? she asked in a voice strangely flat and emotionless. Braziers were lit. Did it? Jon was cold with rage. I promise.
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