Behind them marched threescore ragged men, women, and children, a spotted sow, and several sheep. She had married one of her lord brother's bannermen and whelped a dozen children. Someone told. Nothing tarnishes a hero as much as failure.
The Hound died there, in my arms. She is Batons daughter, he reminded himself. It was all she could do not to throw herself at him. Do this one last brave thing for me.
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