And thank the gods for that. Pale eyes moved nervously in a great round moon of a face, and plump sweaty fingers wiped themselves on the velvet of his doublet. He took the knife and flint from Tyrion's hands and struck sparks on his first try. On your feet, Thorne repeated.
He shifted in the window seat. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap. She came alone, as he had bid her. Robb turned the big grey stallion and walked him slowly away from her, Grey Wind shadowing his steps.
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