Sam sits down for supper. As miserable as it is the last moment of peace he will see for a while.
Other than Sam’s suffering there wasn’t much to do here. I did this as another establishment shot focusing on one of Craster’s wives cooking a horse.
Sam found a place between Grenn and Orphan Oss, his stomach rumbling. The charred horsemeat dripped with grease as Craster’s wives turned the spits above the firepit, and the smell of it set his mouth to watering again, but that reminded him of Bannen. Hungry as he was, Sam knew he would retch if he so much as tried a bite. How could they eat the poor faithful garrons who had carried them so far? When Craster’s wives brought onions, he seized one eagerly. One side was black with rot, but he cut that part off with his dagger and ate the good half raw. There was bread as well, but only two loaves. When Ulmer asked for more, the woman only shook her head. That was when the trouble started. Samwell II-PG 455
