A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies.

Arya, What are you doing?" "Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours." Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. "Which toe?" he teased. "ANY toe," Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. "Must you do your standing here?" he asked. "It's a long hard fall down these steps." "Syrio says a water dancer NEVER falls.

She is not truly beautiful but something about her draws the eye.

Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. So if you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.

A hound will die for you, but never lie to you. And he'll look you straight in the face.

He had found over the years that silence sometimes yielded more than questions. And so it was this time.

It had been more of a wish, actually, but it sounded better to call it a dream.