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Bran
布兰
Bran preferred the hard stone of the window seat to the comforts of his featherbed and blankets. Abed, the walls pressed close and the ceiling hung heavy above him; abed, the room was his cell, and Winterfell his prison. Yet outside his window, the wide world still called.
布兰喜欢窗边坚硬的石座椅，远胜温暖舒适的羽床毛毯。躺在床上，四壁朝他压迫而来，沉重的天花板悬在头顶；躺在床上，卧室是他的牢房，临冬城是他的监狱。然而在窗外，广大的世界依旧呼唤着他。
He could not walk, nor climb nor hunt nor fight with a wooden sword as once he had, but he could still look. He liked to watch the windows begin to glow all over Winterfell as candles and hearth fires were lit behind the diamond-shaped panes of tower and hall, and he loved to listen to the direwolves sing to the stars.
虽然他不能行走，不能攀爬，不能打猎，不能像以前一样拿木剑练习，但他可以“看”。他喜欢坐在窗前，看着远方钻石形玻璃窗棂里的蜡烛和炉火逐一点燃，照遍临冬城的塔楼和厅堂；他也喜欢听冰原狼群对着星空歌唱。
Of late, he often dreamed of wolves. They are talking to me, brother to brother, he told himself when the direwolves howled. He could almost understand them... not quite, not truly, but almost... as if they were singing in a language he had once known and somehow forgotten. The Walders might be scared of them, but the Starks had wolf blood. Old Nan told him so. "Though it is stronger in some than in others," she warned.
近来，他时常梦见狼。他们把我当成兄弟，在对我说话啊，每当他听见冰原狼的叫声，便这么告诉自己。他几乎能听懂它们的话……并非全懂，也非真懂，好像就差那么一点……彷佛它们歌唱的语言他曾经通晓，只是暂时遗忘。大小瓦德怕它们，然而史塔克家人体内流的是奔狼的血液，老奶妈说过的。“虽然每个族人身上的狼血并不等量，”她还告诫。
Summer's howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog's were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two... two where there had once been six.
夏天的叫声绵长而哀戚，充满悲伤与思慕，毛毛狗则较具野性。它们的嚎叫回荡在广场上、厅堂里，充绕全城，好似有大群冰原狼盘据临冬城，而不只区区两只……原本的六只，如今只剩下这两个。
