Arya had not thought weirwoods grow so fast. It had been a sapling, long and thin with a ring of red leaves like a crown and barely reaching her waist. It is now as tall as Nymeria, sniffing a leaf next to her—and it grows still.
She does not know much about planting, but that is a good sign, isn't it? It means the old gods are here. They can see now. Mayhaps even hear. Still, she worries. She used up her wishing on this little tree. It must live. If the gods abandon it, what chance does she have?
Fingers map the lines and grooves in the snow-white bark. It looks naked without a face. Arya will have to ask Robb when they are meant to score the face into it. The sap will be as red as the leaves, she knows, as red as blood, as red as tears. And once it's grown, she will be able to dance among the branches. She will pretend to have wings and that her world is of sky and leaves. She won't come down.
Perchance she will find her father one day sitting on a root, head bowed as he cleans Ice to a cold gleam.
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Arya had not thought weirwoods grow so fast. It had been a sapling, long and thin with a ring of red leaves like a crown and barely reaching her waist. It is now as tall as Nymeria, sniffing a leaf next to her—and it grows still.
She does not know much about planting, but that is a good sign, isn't it? It means the old gods are here. They can see now. Mayhaps even hear. Still, she worries. She used up her wishing on this little tree. It must live. If the gods abandon it, what chance does she have?
Fingers map the lines and grooves in the snow-white bark. It looks naked without a face. Arya will have to ask Robb when they are meant to score the face into it. The sap will be as red as the leaves, she knows, as red as blood, as red as tears. And once it's grown, she will be able to dance among the branches. She will pretend to have wings and that her world is of sky and leaves. She won't come down.
Perchance she will find her father one day sitting on a root, head bowed as he cleans Ice to a cold gleam.