All three lions were wrought in gold, with ruby eyes. His squire, a boy with the unfortunate name of Podrick Payne, swallowed whatever he had been about to say. Will pulled his garron over beneath an ancient gnarled ironwood and dismounted. His shield bore a unicorn sigil, and a spiral horn two feet long jutted up from the brow of his horsehead helm.
Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. All you needed to do was climb those steps, and sit. Bran looked in the window. One of the others barked out a comment, and the Dothraki laughed.
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