Donal Noye had closed and chained it, but it was there forthe taking, the iron bars glimmering red with reflected firelight, the coldblack tunnel behind. We're outlaws. He had to kneel to wrench it free, laughter ringing in his ears. Tyrion cleared his throat.
No bear, he knew. I don't know the child. Jordayne of the Tor. Small stone-headed hammers hung from one hip, a leathern bag of stakes fromthe other.
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