A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

to the river. “It doesn’t look so little to me.”
    Gendry was frowning as well. “The one you’re pointing at runs into that other one, see.”
    â€œThe Big Willow,” she read.
    â€œThe Big Willow, then. See, and the Big Willow runs into the Trident, so we could follow the one to the other, but we’d need to go downstream, not up. Only if this river
isn’t
the Little Willow, if it’s this other one here . . .”
    â€œRippledown Rill,” Arya read.
    â€œSee, it loops around and flows down toward the lake, back to Harrenhal.” He traced the line with a finger.
    Hot Pie’s eyes grew wide. “
No!
They’ll kill us for sure.”
    â€œWe have to know which river this is,” declared Gendry, in his stubbornest voice. “We have to know.”
    â€œWell, we
don’t
.” The map might have names written beside the blue lines, but no one had written a name on the riverbank. “We won’t go up
or
downstream,” she decided, rolling up the map. “We’ll cross and keep going north, like we were.”
    â€œCan horses swim?” asked Hot Pie. “It looks
deep
, Arry. What if there are snakes?”
    â€œAre you sure we’re going north?” asked Gendry. “All these hills . . . if we got turned around . . .”
    â€œThe moss on the trees—”
    He pointed to a nearby tree. “That tree’s got moss on three sides, and that next one has no moss at all. We could be lost, just riding around in a circle.”
    â€œWe could be,” said Arya, “but I’m going to cross the river anyway. You can come or you can stay here.” She climbed back into the saddle, ignoring the both of them. If they didn’t want to follow, they could find Riverrun on their own, though more likely the Mummers would just find them.
    She had to ride a good half mile along the bank before she finally found a place where it looked as though it might be safe to cross, and even then her mare was reluctant to enter the water. The river, whatever its name, was running brown and fast, and the deep part in the middle came up past the horse’s belly. Water filled her boots, but she pressed in her heels all the same and climbed out on the far bank. From behind she heard splashing, and a mare’s nervous whinny.
They followed, then. Good
. She turned to watch as the boys struggled across and emerged dripping beside her. “It wasn’t the Trident,” she told them. “It
wasn’t
.”
    The next river was shallower and easier to ford. That one wasn’t the Trident either, and no one argued with her when she told them they would cross it.
    Dusk was settling as they stopped to rest the horses once more and share another meal of bread and cheese. “I’m cold and wet,” Hot Pie complained. “We’re a long way from Harrenhal now, for sure. We could have us a fire—”
    â€œ
NO!
” Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look.
He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell
. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.
    â€œCould we sleep at least?” Hot Pie asked. “I’m so tired, Arry, and my arse is sore. I think I’ve got blisters.”
    â€œYou’ll have more than that if you’re caught,” she said. “We’ve got to keep going. We’ve
got
to.”
    â€œBut it’s almost dark, and you can’t even see the moon.”
    â€œGet back on your horse.”
    Plodding along at a slow walking pace as the light faded around them, Arya found her own exhaustion weighing heavy on her. She needed sleep as much as Hot Pie, but they dare not. If they slept, they might open their eyes to find Vargo Hoat standing over them with Shagwell the Fool and Faithful Urswyck and Rorge and Biter and Septon Utt and all his other monsters.
    Yet after a while the