They were looking for a highborn girl, daughter of the King's Hand, not for a skinny boy with his hair chopped off. The Lannister guardsmen on the gate were stopping everyone, but Yoren called one by name and their wagons were waved through. Leaving King's Landing was easy, just like he'd said. That'll be the hardest part, the pissing, so don't drink no more'n you need." So you keep to yourself and make your water in the woods, alone. The other half'd do the same, only they'd rape you first. This lot, half o' them would turn you over to the queen quick as spit for a pardon and maybe a few silvers. "Lord Eddard gave me pick o' the dungeons, and I didn't find no little lordlings down there. I got thirty this time, men and boys all bound for the Wall, and don't be thinking they're like that bastard brother o' yours." He shook her. "Gate shouldn't be hard, but the road's another matter. "Now you hold still, boy." By the time he had finished, her scalp was nothing but tufts and stubble.Īfterward he told her that from there to Winterfell she'd be Arry the orphan boy. "I'm taking men and boys from the city," Yoren growled as the sharp steel scraped at her head. She remembered how the breeze sent the fistfuls of dirty brown hair skittering across the paving stones, toward the sept where her father had died. When Yoren had dragged her into that alley she'd thought he meant to kill her, but the sour old man had only held her tight, sawing through her mats and tangles with his dagger. At Winterfell they had called her "Arya Horseface" and she'd thought nothing could be worse, but that was before the orphan boy Lommy Greenhands had named her "Lumpyhead."
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