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Blades! Yoren shouted. "Spread apart, defend the wall wherever they hit. Koss, Urreg, hold the postern. Lommy, pull that spear out of Woth and get up where he was."
“拿武器！”尤伦大喊，“大家散开！护住各段城墙！寇斯、乌瑞格，你们去守侧门。罗米，把渥斯身上的枪拔出来，接替他的位子！”
Hot Pie dropped his shortsword when he tried to unsheath it. Arya shoved the blade back into his hand. "I don't know how to swordfight," he said, white-eyed.
热派想抽出短剑，却把剑掉在地上。艾莉亚捡起来塞进他手中。“我不会用剑，”他两眼发直。
It's easy, Arya said, but the lie died in her throat as a hand grasped the top of the parapet. She saw it by the light of the burning town, so clear that it was as if time had stopped. The fingers were blunt, callused, wiry black hairs grew between the knuckles, there was dirt under the nail of the thumb. Fear cuts deeper than swords, she remembered as the top of a pothelm loomed up behind the hand.
“很简单啦！”艾莉亚话说到一半就卡在喉咙，因为她看到一只手攀上了胸墙。她就着小镇燃烧的火光看到那只手，清晰无比，时间在那一刹那仿佛不再流动。手指很粗，结了茧，指节间长满粗粗的黑毛，拇指指甲里还有泥巴。恐惧比利剑更伤人，她心中默念。一顶圆盔出现在手后面。
She slashed down hard, and Needle's castle-forged steel bit into the grasping fingers between the knuckles. "Winterfell!" she screamed. Blood spurted, fingers flew, and the helmed face vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "Behind!" Hot Pie yelled. Arya whirled. The second man was bearded and helmetless, his dirk between his teeth to leave both hands free for climbing. As he swung his leg over the parapet, she drove her point at his eyes. Needle never touched him; he reeled backward and fell. I hope he falls on his face and cuts off his tongue.
她用力向下一砍，缝衣针那由城堡铁匠打出来的精钢剑刃正中对方攀爬的指节之间。“临冬城万岁！”她尖叫。鲜血喷溅，手指分家，刚出现的脸来去匆匆。“后面！”热派大喊。艾莉亚立刻旋身，只见另一个没戴头盔的大胡子，用牙齿咬住短刀，双手攀爬。他的腿刚跨过胸墙，艾莉亚便持剑朝他眼睛戳去。缝衣针没碰着他，他往后躲开，摔下了城墙。希望他摔个狗吃屎，咬断自己舌头。
