Tyrion slid a hand under his father's chain, and twisted. Something, said Meera, and for once she was adamant. A wind blew brisklyfrom the cast, making the banners snap and flap noisily along the walls. Half amile north, the wildling encampments were stirring, their campfires sending upsmoky fingers to scratch against the pale dawn sky.
they're here,they're there, they're climbing near Queensgate, they're hacking at the gatesof Greyguard, they're massing against Eastwatch . From time to time they'd hear a groan and then a craaaack, andanother chunk would come crashing off the Wall. All the way up the BlueFork they rode, past Sevenstrearns where the river unraveled into a confusion It would please me to show you the Golden Gallery andthe Lion's Mouth, and the Hall of Heroes where Jaime and I played as boys.
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