He wasn’t her friend, he was just a dead boy. Zombies would’ve eaten him, and she saved him. All he did was boss her around. He was a dead boy, and he’d left his backpack. It was sitting by the bottom of the rug, which was crumpled from where he’d been sleeping. Arya kicked aside the ratty blanket they’d shared and wrapped both hands around the straps of the backpack. After raiding abandoned cars and houses, they’d managed to gather a few days worth of food if they rationed it. If he was so clever, he could find his own food.
He’s just a dead boy, she thought, shoving the phone into the backpack. [x]
Dany didn’t think. Dany reacted. There was a woman screaming, but she didn’t realize it was her. All she could think about was how scared Rhaenys must have been at gala, how brave Rhaegar had been, trying to save her, and Viserys and Aegon, who might very well be an orphan. She heard the soft metallic tink! as her bat cracked across the creature’s skull, felt the vibrations of it up her arm, and heard the hard crunch of bone as it splinted. The zombie slumped forward, but she saw it was too late for the boy. [x]
Asha’s always been a wild thing. His mother used to despair when her only daughter would return to the house, her brand new dresses that Alannys had forced her into covered in mud and ripped to shreds. He recalls a time from their youth, when Asha had violently fought off Rodrik and Maron to stop them from picking on Theon. He thinks of it because it was the last time he can ever remember being this glad to see his sister. [x]