I must beg Your Grace's pardon for my appearance. It was midday when Brienne heard chanting drifting through the bare brown trees. The one time that Sansa had visited the Gates of the Moon, on the way up to the Eyrie with her aunt Lysa and Lo MARTINRobert would have loved you, for an hour.
He swung beneath the limb of a dead tree whose blackened trunk still bore the scars of the lightning that had killed it. When I finish, it is yours, to help you remember him. Did this fool have a red nose, full of broken veins? I could not swear to that. And who are you.
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