By George R. R. Martin
O bafo merciless e impiedoso do Inverno já se sente. Quando Jon Snow consegue regressar à Muralha, perseguido pelos antigos companheiros do Povo Livre, não sabe o que irá encontrar nem como será recebido pelos seus irmãos da Patrulha da Noite. Só tem uma certeza: há coisas bem piores do que a hoste de selvagens a aproximarem-se pela floresta assombrada.
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Extra info for A Glória dos Traidores
He rolled his head back and crowed like a rooster. Freddie stared on in horror as he tugged his pants up and scrambled to his feet. He took off, bumping into Jake, almost knocking him off the bike. Jake’s eyes darted from Nick to the pack. No! Uh-uh! Nick thought and lunged for the pack, but his legs were still tangled in his pants and he tumbled. Nick yanked savagely to get his pants up. Jake snatched up the pack and pedaled away at full speed. By the time Nick got his pants on, Jake was nowhere in sight.
Nick caught the kid cutting his eyes toward him. “I can do you one better than that,” the kid said. ” Nick’s heart slammed against his chest. “Yeah, that’s just what I mean. Okay, it’s cool. By the turtle. ” He glanced at Nick again. “Don’t worry he’s not—” Nick took off. If he could make it into the trees he might be able to lose himself in the bushes, might have a chance. He was running so hard he didn’t even hear the bike bearing down on him. The older boy kicked him as he flew by. Nick lost his footing and slid across the sidewalk, the concrete tearing into his palms.
What’s ahead for me? Even if I could go home, what then? Graduate? Get some crappy job so that I can spend every weekend trying to drink it all away, puking in a parking lot, or playing fiddle-boobs with some skank? He shook his head. Peter was right: if he didn’t live now—right this minute—then when? Too much of his youth had already been stolen. Why should he let them take any more? Maybe it was time to do a little taking of his own. Nick took a deep breath and lowered himself through the window.