Lynn Vandestine He wraps a towel around his lower naked body, stepping out from the shower, then looks at the mirror ummindfully. "What kind of a freak showers at noon?" He suddenly hears a low voice behind him. Lynn turns, then notices his brother lying on his bed, holding a wine bottle in his hand."Only your brother does," he chuckles, lightly shaking his wet hair, then pulls out a blue shirt from the wardrobe. "Are you drunk?""Of course not," Mahone sits up idly, looking with sleepy eyes. "Wait."Lynn turns to him, "What?"Mahone puts the bottle down, then walks to him, feeling horrified. "Lynn, the scars in your back look....more. What happened to you?"Lynn turns away from him, buttoning his shirt quickly. No, he didn't want to remember the three months when he was starving in a basement, being tortured and beaten up, waiting for to die, wanting to die."What happened to you?" he asks again."Stop it,

Samlin Greenham I open the stopper of toothpaste idly and stick some at my brush. I examine my face at the mirror - messy, high brown hair, static big blue eyes, red cheeks, swollen lips and wearing soft woollen pajamas.What did I do last night?As though to answer my question, my phone chimes with a chirp, lying on the cabinet. I pick up it and read the message.Lynn texted : 'Did you have a good sleep last night?'Last night? Was he with me? Where? Why can't I remember?I text : 'Were you with me? Was in the hospital? I know I might sound absurd but I can't remember it clearly.'Lynn : 'You really don't remember what you did do with me last night?' with a smirky emoji.What? What does he mean?   I quickly wash my face with water, rubbing my cheeks. Yesterday, at afternoon, I was at our family graveyard, wasn't I? I spent some time there alone and talked. Then_ I went to a bar maybe. Oh God, I must hav

 No roads ran through the twisted mountain valleys where they walked now. Between the grey stone peaks lay still blue lakes, long and deep and narrow, and the green gloom of endless piney woods. The russet and gold of autumn leaves grew less common when they left the wolfswood to climb amongst the old flint hills, and vanished by the time those hills had turned to mountains. Giant grey-green sentinels loomed above them now, and spruce and fir and soldier pines in endless profusion. The undergrowth was sparse beneath them, the forest floor carpeted in dark green needles. When they lost their way, as happened once or twice, they need only wait for a clear cold night when the clouds did not intrude, and look up in the sky for the Ice Dragon. The blue star in the dragon's eye pointed the way north, as Osha told him once. Thinking of Osha made Bran wonder where she was. He pictured her safe in White Harbor with Rickon and Shaggydog, eating eels and fish

   "I don't recall as we did." Giant was no more than five feet tall-his true name was Bedwyck-but a fierce little man for all that. "Slayer, did you ask Craster for his counsel?"   Sam cringed at the name, but shook his head. He filled another spoon, brought it to Bannen's mouth, and tried to ease it between his lips. "Food and fire," Giant was saying, "that was all we asked of you. And you grudge us the food." "Be glad I didn't grudge you fire too." Craster was a thick man made thicker by the ragged smelly sheepskins he wore day and night. He had a broad flat nose, a mouth that drooped to one side, and a missing ear. And though his matted hair and tangled beard might be grey going white, his hard knuckly hands still looked strong enough to hurt. "I fed you what I could, but you crows are always hungry. I'm a godly man, else I would have chased you off. Yo

 The torches shimmered brightly against the hammered metal of the wall sconces, filling the Queen's Ballroom with silvery light. Yet there was still darkness in that hall. Sansa could see it in the pale eyes of Ser Ilyn Payne, who stood by the back door still as stone, taking neither food nor wine. She could hear it in Lord Gyles's racking cough, and the whispered voice of Osney Kettleblack when he slipped in to bring Cersei the tidings. Sansa was finishing her broth when he came the first time, entering through the back. She glimpsed him talking to his brother Osfryd. Then he climbed the dais and knelt beside the high seat, smelling of horse, four long thin scratches on his cheek crusted with scabs, his hair falling down past his collar and into his eyes. For all his whispering, Sansa could not help but hear. "The fleets are locked in battle. Some archers got ashore, but the Hound's cut them to pieces, Y'Grace. Your brother's raising his chain, I h