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“Bran?” It was Meera’s voice.
“布兰？”这是梅拉的声音。
“You were thrashing, making terrible noises. What did you see?”
“你刚才拳打脚踢，发出恐怖的喊叫。看见什么了？”
“Winterfell.”
“是临冬城。”
His tongue felt strange and thick in his mouth.
他有些口齿不清地回答。
One day when I come back I won’t know how to talk anymore.
总有一天，当我回来时，将彻底忘记怎么说话。
“It was Winterfell.
“那是临冬城，
It was all on fire.
整个都在燃烧。
There were horse smells, and steel, and blood.
马的味道，铁的味道，还有血。
They killed everyone, Meera.”
梅拉，他们把所有人都害死了。”
He felt her hand on his face, stroking back his hair.
他觉出她伸手抚着他的脸，梳理他的头发。
“You’re all sweaty,” she said.
“好多汗，”她说，
“Do you need a drink?”
“要喝水吗？”
“A drink,” he agreed.
“喝水，”他同意。
She held a skin to his lips, and Bran swallowed so fast the water ran out of the corner of his mouth.
于是她把皮袋凑过来，布兰急切吞咽，水从嘴角不断溢出。
He was always weak and thirsty when he came back.
每次回来，他都虚弱、干渴
And hungry too.
而饥饿。
He remembered the dying horse, the taste of blood in his mouth, the smell of burnt flesh in the morning air.
他还记得垂死的马，鲜血的味道和晨风中烤肉的气息。
“How long?”
“我睡了多久？”
“Three days,” said Jojen.
“整整三天，”玖健道。
The boy had come up softfoot, or perhaps he had been there all along;
不知男孩刚轻手轻脚地赶到，还是一直便在旁边；
in this blind black world, Bran could not have said.
在这黑暗迟钝的世界里，布兰什么也不能确定。
“We were afraid for you.”
“我们都为你担心。”
“I was with Summer,” Bran said.
“我和夏天在一起，”布兰说。
“Too long. You’ll starve yourself.
“太久了，你会饿死自己的本体。
Meera dribbled a little water down your throat, and we smeared honey on your mouth, but it is not enough.”
梅拉曾为你灌了点水，我们还往你嘴唇涂蜂蜜，但这些远远不够。”
“I ate,” said Bran.
“我吃过，”布兰道，
“We ran down an elk and had to drive off a treecat that tried to steal him.”
“我们扑杀一头鹿，还赶走想来偷吃的树猫。”
The cat had been tan-and-brown, only half the size of the direwolves, but fierce.
那猫体毛棕褐，只有冰原狼一半大，却十分凶猛。
He remembered the musky smell of him, and the way he had snarled down at them from the limb of the oak.
他还记得它身上的麝香味道，记得它趴在橡树枝干上低头咆哮。
“The wolf ate,” Jojen said.
“吃东西的是狼，”玖健说，
“Not you. Take care, Bran.
“不是你。小心，布兰，
Remember who you are.”
请记得自己的身份。”
He remembered who he was all too well; Bran the boy, Bran the broken.
他怎不记得自己的身份？他太清楚了：小男孩布兰，残废的布兰。
Better Bran the beastling.
倒不如当凶兽布兰。
Was it any wonder he would sooner dream his Summer dreams, his wolf dreams?
这教他怎不思念夏天，怎不想做狼梦呢？
Here in the chill damp darkness of the tomb his third eye had finally opened.
在这阴冷潮湿的漆黑墓窖，他的第三只眼终于睁开。
He could reach Summer whenever he wanted, and once he had even touched Ghost and talked to Jon.
而今他随时能连接夏天，甚至触碰过白灵，并透过他与琼恩对话——
Though maybe he had only dreamed that.
不过或许那只是梦罢！
