The older scowled. They are nothing to him. Maester Luwin stood. And he looked past the Wall, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the dead plains where nothing grew or lived.
It certainly broke mine. And then he was alone. The memory came creeping upon him in the darkness, as vivid as a dream. His father gave him a sharp look.
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