[ There are some she'll never forget. Not Joffrey. Not Cersei. Ser Gregor and Sandor Clegane. But the Tickler had always had a forgettable face. One of a hundred, looking a man like any other. It had only made him scarier when the tickling began. She could smell the blood and shit and seared skin again. She could hear the shrieks. And the questions. Is there gold hidden in the village? Silver, gems? Is there food? Where is Lord Beric? Which of you village folk helped him? Where did he go? How many men did he have with him? How many knights? How many bowmen? How many horsed? How many wounded?
No one made it to nightfall, but the sounds and the smells would linger long after the body was thrown.
Arya strokes one long ear. She hesitates before hugging him around the neck. ]
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No one made it to nightfall, but the sounds and the smells would linger long after the body was thrown.
Arya strokes one long ear. She hesitates before hugging him around the neck. ]