iron throne of ice and fire

Chapter 656 Wolf Forest
The girl's frail body visibly trembled: "It was taught by the nun. I learned from her when I was little, and then... then..."

The hound showed no pity, coldly pressing, "And then what?"

The girl shrank back: "I heard that the new master of the Riverlands would reward literate people with a job that would provide us with enough to eat, but... later... they didn't want me, saying I was... a monster, and sent me to the sanctuary."

A deathly silence filled the air; the girl dared not even breathe too heavily. Suddenly, the menacing man standing in front of her grabbed her neck.

His calloused hands were like iron clamps.

She felt that if this man exerted even the slightest force, her neck would break like a withered branch, and even the courage to struggle was nailed to the spot by fear.

He swept his eyes, surrounded by twisted scars, over her, his voice hoarse and calm: "Death can end your suffering completely..."

The girl managed a broken, breathy sound, tinged with a hint of relief: "Perhaps... you are... right... Thank you..."

Then she slowly closed her eyes, as if waiting to be embraced by a stranger.

"I guarantee your satisfaction."

Before the Hound could finish speaking, Sansa's urgent voice rang out: "No, please stop."

The large hand suddenly released its grip, and the girl fell straight to the ground. The hound turned its head to look at Sansa.

Sandor Clegane's face, though mangled and bruised, was still terrifying. Sansa couldn't help but gasp. "Ser Clegane, she... Rodan is a pitiful man. The Stark family would never harm the innocent."

The hound remained silent for a moment before slowly speaking: "Her identity is still questionable."

Sansa shook her head firmly: "But she is honest enough, Sir."

The girl could finally move. She knelt before Sansa again, her voice trembling with relief at having escaped death: "Thank you... thank you... kind lady..."

Sansa Stark raised her hand to signal her to rise, then gave her a gentle smile: "Come with me to Riverrun, and I'll find you a suitable job."

"Thank you... thank you so much... may the gods..."

As the girl expressed her gratitude, the hound suddenly interrupted, "I will go to Riverrun and keep an eye on this woman."

Sansa was slightly taken aback, then flashed a standard ladylike smile: "Welcome, guest of Riverrun."

The Hound glanced at Sansa, said nothing, turned and left, then jumped onto his horse.

Not far away, Tyrion watched all this silently, his eyes shifting slightly as his gaze moved back and forth between Sansa and the Hound.

Just then, he met the gaze that Bronn was casting at him.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, then Tyrion, looking pained, pulled out a golden dragon and threw it at Bronn.

Polon skillfully caught the gold coin, grinned, then pulled on the reins, turned his horse around, and rode away from the group.

Five days later.

Tyrion and Sansa's party arrived at the confluence of the Teng Stone River and the Red Fork River. The river breeze carried the damp scent of earth, and they could vaguely make out the majestic outline of Riverrun.

A silver trout banner with red and blue stripes fluttered as Duke Brynden Tully of Riverrun came out of the city to greet him, followed closely by his orderly ranks of knights.

"Grandpa!"

With a delighted cry, Sansa dismounted before her servants could fully steady her, her feet firmly planted on the land belonging to House Tully.

"Oh, my Sansa."

Duke Brynden stepped forward, gently taking Sansa's slender arm in his large hand, his kind gaze carefully examining her face.

His hoarse voice was filled with emotion: "I thought I was seeing Kate. Oh, you are so beautiful, just like her when she was a child."

Sansa said shyly, "Uncle, my mother misses you very much and asked me to give you her regards."

The Duke of Brynden's weathered face once again showed a look of感慨 (gan3kai3, a complex emotion encompassing both admiration and awe): "Time flies, little Kate's daughter has grown so tall..."

Sansa smiled and said, "Arya and Rick missed you very much. They wanted to come with me, but Mother sternly refused."

Lord Brynden couldn't help but smile, his expression growing even more amiable: "Lady Winterfell is certainly..." After the tender words of the trout bloodline had finished, Tyrion stepped forward and bowed to him: "Your Excellency Lord Riverrun, the Night's Watch greets you."

Duke Brynden's kind expression vanished instantly. A complex look flashed across his deep blue eyes beneath his thick brows. He paused for a moment before speaking slowly: "I have received the message. Brothers of the Night's Watch, welcome to Riverrun."

The group mounted their horses, with Brynden and Sansa riding side by side in front, followed by the others.

Ser Bronn lightly kicked his horse's flank, quietly approached Tyrion's side, and chuckled in a low voice, "Lord Tyrion, this trout doesn't seem to be very welcoming to you."

Tyrion shrugged, his tone nonchalant: "If he's so enthusiastic, I'll find an excuse to spend the night outside the city."

Ser Bronn glanced ahead and said with a grin, "Lannisters are indeed popular wherever they go. My lord, your guard duties are fraught with danger."

"You mercenary, don't even think about taking my money."

…………

……

...

"keep going!"

A deep, weary voice pierced through the silvery-white secret realm shrouded in thick snow.

Deep in the wolf forest, the gnarled oak branches resemble the withered bones of a giant beast studded with shattered silver. Occasionally, a sturdy branch, unable to bear the snow, snaps with a "crack," and the accumulated snow falls to the ground in a flurry.

The sharp thorns of black thorns are hidden beneath the snow, and the cold wind blows through the forest, causing the falling snowflakes to spread like a thick fog.

The stag banner fluttered askew as the hooves of about a thousand cavalrymen pounded the frozen snow, breaking the deathly silence of the desolate snow forest.

"go ahead!"

In the ranks, some cavalrymen had rags wrapped around their arms, and the bloodstains had long since frozen into dark brown lumps.

The horse's hooves were wrapped in tattered cloth, and it trembled slightly with each step. The white breath that came out of its nostrils was so thick that it froze into a thin layer of ice in the blink of an eye.

People and horses fell down one after another, but no one cared. They were like a group of soulless bodies, burying their faces in their tightly wrapped cloaks and occasionally letting out suppressed coughs.

The biting wind, laden with snowflakes, lashed against Stannis's leather armor, yet he remained upright in his saddle.

"Stop!"

The howls of the wolves seemed to surge from the depths of the snow and mist.

As darkness and snow intertwined, the cavalrymen Stannis had brought from the Stormlands numbly set up camp for the night.

Stannis sat alone by the campfire, the captain of his most loyal guard, who had served his father, dragging a limp—he brought two heads.

They were thrown less than a foot from Stannis's boots, and snow fell on them, soon accumulating into a thin layer.

"Your Majesty, this is the last traitor."

Stannis stared coldly at the prominent ears typical of the Florentine family on the head for a moment, his teeth grinding: "Damn traitor! Clayber the cunning!"

The captain of the guard was covered in dark red scabs, the blood splattered from when he personally beheaded someone.

He stood there like a statue, coughed a few times, and slowly spoke: "Your Majesty, there will be more people and horses who will not survive tonight."

The flames flickered.

The deeply wrinkled face moved toward Stannis, and he said again, "Your soldiers, Your Majesty, can hold out for at most three more days."

Stannis glanced at the soldiers gnawing on jerky not far away with his cloudy eyes, paused for a moment, and said: "That's enough."

With a "whoosh," he drew his new sword, Long Claw, with a bear-head hilt.

He stared at the Valyrian steel blade, which gleamed with an eerie light: "Time has been enough."

(End of this chapter)