A cask, a cup, a swallow? One taste, and you will name your child after me. The most recent were also the smallest; a matched pair no bigger than mastiffs skulls, and oddly misshapen, all that remained of the last two hatchlings born on Dragonstone. Ser Gladden. Since we were children together.
Take my hand, he said. You are so, insisted Grenn. Do you take me for a fool? The magister bowed slightly. Yet I'm told there's nothing like a wolfskin cloak to warm a man by night.
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