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    Summary

    "I've earned myself a reputation / That my bark is much worse than my bite / But I keep snapping at Goliath's hands / With all of my tiny might." - The Crane Wives, 'Take Me to War'.

    “My Khal,” says Mirri, peering up at him, squinting in the dark to make out the lines of his face, the slope of his broad shoulders, his hands clenched at his side, “and if I must choose between the mother and the child?”

    He steps towards her, then, and she falls back with silent terror for an instant. But he does not seize her, only grinds out, “Save my son. He is the Stallion-Who-Mounts-the-World. He will rule the great Grass Sea and the stones of the West.”

    Ah, she thinks. And such hope I had for you, Drogo. But there is nothing. You are no shepherd, not even to a single lamb. You are the wolf, or better yet, the wild dog, and there is nothing in you but howling greed.

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