Aegon looked at the fish he had spent so long struggling with, fell silent for a moment, then murmured an acknowledgment and reached out to take it.
He tore off a piece of fish and put it in his mouth.
It was a little overdone, with no salt or spices, a strong fishy taste, and a faint hint of burning.
He chewed expressionlessly and swallowed.
Once Arya saw him take it, she paid him no more attention and wolfed down her own portion.
As for whether it tasted good, having something hot to fill her stomach was already the greatest luxury she had enjoyed in days.
Aegon did not fuss over it either.
He finished his half of the fish bite by bite, leaving nothing behind.
The two of them soon polished off the whole fish.
Arya licked the traces of grease from her fingers, leaned against the tree trunk, and let out a long breath.
Her stomach felt warm, and her whole body relaxed considerably.
She sized up the white-haired young man opposite her. His black robe was simple in style, but the fabric was good; a sword hung at his waist, its hilt adorned with an ornate relief of a dragon in flight. It was hardly an ordinary weapon.
Nothing about him suggested he was the sort to fish for his meals deep in the mountains.
"Hey," she said. "You don't look like an ordinary fellow, dressed like that. What are you doing alone in a place like this?"
Aegon was stirring the fire's embers with a twig and did not answer at once.
How had he ended up here?
He recalled taking flight from Casterly Rock on dragonback, making a circuit through the Riverlands, and meeting up with the Ashen Company and the Blood Oath Band at