Small Paul unslung the long-hafted axe strapped across his back. “Why’d you hurt that horse? That was Mawney’s horse.”
The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul’s axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul’s mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh
It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, “Oh,” as he lost the axe.
‘A Storm of Swords’, Samwell I
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