Rickon was running across the yard toward the gatehouse, the wolves following him, but the tower faced the wrong way for Bran to see what was happening.  瑞肯正穿过广场，朝城门楼跑去，狼群跟在后面。然而布兰所处的高塔方向不对，看不到究竟发生了什么。

　　He smashed a fist on his thigh in frustration and felt nothing. 他不由得恼怒地一拳捶在大腿上，却毫无感觉。

　　Oh, my sweet summer child, Old Nan said quietly, what do you know of fear?  噢，我亲爱的孩子啊，你出生在夏季，老奶妈静静地说，你哪里懂得真正的恐惧？

　　Fear is for the winter, my little lord, when the snows fall a hundred feet deep and the ice wind comes howling out of the north.  小少爷，当冬天来临，积雪百尺，冰风狂啸，那才是真正的恐怖。

　　Fear is for the long night, when the sun hides its face for years at a time, and little children are born and live and die all in darkness while the direwolves grow gaunt and hungry, and the white walkers move through the woods. 当长夜漫漫，终年不见天日，小孩在黑夜里诞生、在黑夜里长大、在黑夜里死亡，而冰原狼骨瘦嶙峋，白鬼穿梭林间，那才是恐惧降临之时。

　　You mean the Others, Bran said querulously. 你说的是异鬼罢。布兰暴躁地说。

　　The Others, Old Nan agreed. Thousands and thousands of years ago, a winter fell that was cold and hard and endless beyond all memory of man.  是啊，老奶妈同意，几千年前，一个出奇寒冷严酷的漫长冬季降临人间，只是今天的人类不复记忆。

　　There came a night that lasted a generation, and kings shivered and died in their castles even as the swineherds in their hovels.  在一个长达整整一代人的长夜里，城中的国王和圈里的猪倌同样颤抖着死去。

　　Women smothered their children rather than see them starve, and cried, and felt their tears freeze on their cheeks.  母亲们宁可闷死自己的孩子，也不愿见他们挨饿受冻。她们放声大哭，眼泪却冻结在脸颊上。

　　Her voice and her needles fell silent, and she glanced up at Bran with pale, filmy eyes and asked, So, child. This is the sort of story you like? 话音和织针同时静止，她抬起头，用那双惨白，像是覆盖了一层薄膜的眼睛看着布兰，问道：孩子，你喜欢听的就是这种故事？