We have no business with the dead. Jaime smiled. After the dimness of the tent, the world outside was blinding bright. The Dothraki ate horse, in truth; they also left deformed children out for the feral dogs who ran behind their khalasars.
Please, please, please. Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain That Rides, thundered past them like an avalanche. It was a good ache. He grinned.
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