Then whoever took this man's limbs was smart, Arya thinks, because death is a gift when life becomes bad enough. Suffering is infinitely worse than death. Sometimes, she thinks (when she allows herself to) that the rest of her family were the lucky ones. They're not afraid anymore. If Arya knows one thing from handling the dead at the House of Black and White, it's that the dead fear nothing. On the contrary, some are scared of them.

Arya nods in understanding. It wasn't murder. It was torture, and unlike the Tickler, whoever tortured this man cruelly decided to spare him. Is there food and gold in the village? The Tickler's voice is faint in the back of her mind. Arya bites lip, hard.

"They took my sight from me," she says, at last. "It was supposed to be a punishment, but I took it back. Will you take your limbs back?" Robbing someone of their power is a somewhat satisfying form of revenge, although killing them is better. The dead can't hurt you, after all.

"I don't have one," she responds. Names can be taken just as easily as limbs or eyes. She thinks he might understand it. "But the people here are calling me Nymeria." She looks up at the man. "What's yours?"