Squatting beside the dead man he had named Jafer Flowers, Sir Jaremy grasped his head by the scalp. The hair came out between his fingers, brittle as straw. The knight cursed and shoved at the face with the heel of his hand. A great gash in the side of the corpse's neck opened like a mouth, crusted with dried blood. Only a few ropes of pale tendon still attached the head to the neck. "This was done with an axe."
杰瑞米爵士在杰佛·佛花身旁蹲下，揪着头皮抓起头颅。发束从他指间落下，松脆有如稻草。骑士骂了一声，伸手把脸部翻过。尸体另一侧的脖颈部位有道深深的伤口，好似一张大嘴，其中积满了干涸的血块。头脖之间仅余几条肌腱相连。“他是给斧头砍死的。”
Aye, muttered Dywen, the old forester. "Belike the axe that Othor carried, m'lord."
“没错，”老林务官戴文喃喃道，“大人，俺说就是奥瑟平日惯用的那把斧头。”
Jon could feel his breakfast churning in his belly, but he pressed his lips together and made himself look at the second body. Othor had been a big ugly man, and he made a big ugly corpse. No axe was in evidence. Jon remembered Othor; he had been the one bellowing the bawdy song as the rangers rode out. His singing days were done. His flesh was blanched white as milk, everywhere but his hands. His hands were black like Jafer's. Blossoms of hard cracked blood decorated the mortal wounds that covered him like a rash, breast and groin and throat. Yet his eyes were still open. They stared up at the sky, blue as sapphires.
琼恩只觉早餐在胃里翻涌，但他强自抿紧嘴唇，逼自己朝第二具尸体望去。奥瑟生前是个高大丑陋的人，死后尸体也是又大又丑。但四下却没有斧头的踪影。琼恩还记得奥瑟；他就是那个出发前高唱低俗小调的家伙。看来他唱歌的日子是完了。他全身的肉发白地像牛奶，而他的双手和杰佛一样完全漆黑。伤口如疹子般覆盖全身，从下体到胸部再到咽喉无一幸免，上面装饰着一朵朵干裂的的血花。他的眼睛依旧睁开，蓝宝石般的珠子直瞪天空。
Sir Jaremy stood. "The wildlings have axes too."
杰瑞米爵士站起身。“野人也是有斧头的。”
