Grendle had slipped into a village to buy supplies. He wandered through the collection of dejected looking houses. The thatched dwellings sat on the edge of the river and it flowed past as fast as it could, not wanting to linger in such a dismal place. There were boats moored up and men worked on their lines and nets. Fishing was the commodity here. Freshwater trout, eels and salmon swam in plentiful amounts and the village had bountiful food supplies yet it looked miserable and poor. Grendle had studied a map before he left so he knew that this village was in Tully lands. Riverrun wasn't that far from here and beyond that the rivers ran on and merged at the Twins. How they would get past all this water was beyond him. The map had been crisscrossed in blue lines. Grendle had never seen a map before but the Hound had given him one and shown him how to read it. The Hound had three maps stored in his pack and he had selected a small one and handed it to Grendle. It was rolled up in his jacket now, next to his breastbone. It was made of thin, soft leather and the land had been stitched on in embroidery silks. Small, fierce creatures had been worked around the edges. Dragons breathing fire and sinuous sea monsters. Grendle liked an owl that was done with white and cream threads. It had eyes like two small moons and fierce claws holding a tiny grey mouse.

There were two inns either side of the river linked by a ferry. Grendle went into the closest one and brought four skins of red wine for the Hound. The innkeeper wasn't very interested in the boy, took his money and threw the skins at him. There were not many people in the inn this early in the morning and the ones who were looked half asleep. Grendle wanted to listen to their conversations though, to try and gather any news, so he ordered a dish of oats and milk and sat by the fireplace. Three men were eating breakfast in grumpy but companionable silence, swigging dark ale and gulping down eggs and fish.

'Want a job, boy?' The oldest, grey whiskered one fixed him with a short-sighted blue eye from beneath squinted brows, 'I could do with a hand this morn fixing me boat.'

'No, I'm leaving after this meal.'

'Where you from? You're not from these parts from the look of you.'

Grendle slurped his porridge and said, 'I'm from all over. Travel around. Heading South to King's Landing, looking for work there.'

One of the other men asked, 'who you here with?'

The boy sucked up the last spoon of breakfast and said, 'Only the Old Gods.'

The men all laughed and carried on with breaking their fast, slipping into easy conversation about fishing and moaning about their wives. Grendle sat back in his chair and supped his pale ale. He closed his eyes and listened.

Grey Whiskers said, 'Terrible what's happened to Lord Edmure, ain't it?'

'Yes,' said another with a thick riverland accent, 'Tis a terrible affront to Riverrun, but what can men like us do about it? Best to wait it out. All things turn out all right with time. The salmon always returns.'

'That it does,' agreed Grey Whiskers as he lit his pipe and took a deep drag on the bowl.

'All I knows is a man isn't safe between here and The Twins, not if he's a Tully man.'

Grendle opened one eye and spoke up in a conversational tone of voice, 'I heard there was trouble with the Bolton's too, up at Harrenhal.'

'Trouble everywhere, boy,' said Grey Whiskers sagely, 'Just got to avoid it and stick to your own business.'

'How can I avoid it if you don't tell me what is going on in the land.' Grendle grinned his most mischievous, winning smile at them.

'The boy's right,' laughed one of the men, flicking his long, pale fringe out of his almond shaped eyes, 'talking about what's going on is no crime. It helps a man to avoid the troubled places.'

The old man nodded and leant forward towards Grendle, 'I heard the dog that deserted is dead. The Hound was killed up at Harrenhal and they chopped him into pieces and threw him in a ditch to rot.'

Grendle expressed astonishment, widening his eyes and gripping the table, and then he said, 'Well, that's one less bastard in the world.'

'That's not all, when the news reached the dog's brother he went mad. Tore the man who delivered the news to him into pieces.'

Grendle said, 'I would be upset too if my brother had been murdered.'

The two men and Grey Whiskers burst into laughter and sprayed their dark ales across the room. 'You are stupid ain't ya boy,' said the strawberry blond man, 'the Mountain wasn't sad about his dog brother, only furious he lost the chance to murder him himself.'

'Hmm,' said Grendle, 'I understand. Killers like to kill.'

'That's right, but now the Mountain is sworn to find and kill the ones who robbed him of his chance to slay his little brother and he is riding through these lands searching for witnesses and such like.'

'So, little one, I should avoid mentioning Harrenhal on your journey south,' said Grey Whiskers with a smile, 'in case the Mountain hears you and decides to pull your arms off like a spider.'

'Stop frightening me old man,' said Grendle in a pretend huff. He picked up his belongings and walked out of the inn chased by the sound of their laughter. The strawberry blond man pushed his flopping, sandy fringe out of his eyes and bowed to his companions and followed him.

Grey Whiskers looked to the remaining man and said, 'two strangers joining us for breakfast, these are strange days indeed.'