My luck. His shortened fingers patted at this chest, groping, finding nothing. The pouch was gone, and the finger bones with them. The fire took my luck as well as my sons. “The fire took it all… the fire…”
Stannis lives, he knew then. I have a king still. And sons, I have other sons, and a wife loyal and loving. How could he have forgotten? The Mother was merciful indeed.
→ “You look different now. Like a proper little girl.”
“I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns.”
“Nice though. A nice oak tree.” He stepped closer and sniffed at her. “You even smell nice for a change.”
“You don’t. You stink.” Arya shoved him back against the anvil and made to run, but Gendry caught her arm.
She stuck a foot between his legs and tripped him, but he yanked her down with him, and they rolled across the floor of the smithy. He was very strong, but she was quicker. Every time he tried to hold her still she wriggled free and punched him. Gendry only laughed at the blows, which made her mad. He finally caught both her wrists in one hand and started to tickle her with the other, so Arya slammed her knee between his legs, and wrenched free. Both of them were covered in dirt, and one sleeve was torn on her stupid acorn dress. “I bet I don’t look so nice now,” she shouted.