I'm SAM, the black thing sobbed. Her lord husband shuns herbed. The wildlings have notrumpets, only warhorns. A secondencampment lay close beyond her own; five times the size, sprawling andchaotic, this second camp had no ditches, no tents, no sentries, nohorselines.
Her auburnhair had been done up in a thick braid, and fell across one shoulder. Don't frighten the child, Thoros protested. I'm to go to the stairs, Donal Noye says. Only his cloak set him apart; a heavy goldencloak trimmed in black fur, and pinned with a brooch in the shape of a flamingheart.
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