Спасибо, что привели эту цитату, заставив меня лезть в первоисточник, освежать в памяти содержание книги. При первом прочтении я пришёл к выводу, что речь идёт о волке Робба, но прошёл почти год, и я доказываю уже, что речь шла о волке Арьи, ссылаясь на домыслы в основном (ну, забыл я, когда там Джон узнал о смерти Робба)
В общем, допустил типичную ошибку большинства спорщиков на форуме. Но установление истины - наша первоочередная цель, поэтому я перечитал чуть больше, чем вчера.
Что имеем:
Far off, he could hear his packmates calling to him, like to like. They were hunting too. A wild rain lashed down upon his black brother as he tore at the flesh of an enormous goat, washing the blood from his side where the goat’s long horn had raked him. In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her. The hills were warmer where they were, and full of food. Many a night his sister’s pack gorged on the flesh of sheep and cows and horses, the prey of men, and sometimes even on the flesh of man himself.
“Snow,” the moon called down again, cackling. The white wolf padded along the man trail beneath the icy cliff. The taste of blood was on his tongue, and his ears rang to the song of the hundred cousins. Once they had been six, five whimpering blind in the snow beside their dead mother, sucking cool milk from her hard dead nipples whilst he crawled off alone. Four remained … and one the white wolf could no longer sense.
“Snow,” the moon insisted.
The white wolf ran from it, racing toward the cave of night where the sun had hidden, his breath frosting in the air. On starless nights the great cliff was as black as stone, a darkness towering high above the wide world, but when the moon came out it shimmered pale and icy as a frozen stream. The wolf’s pelt was thick and shaggy, but when the wind blew along the ice no fur could keep the chill out. On the other side the wind was colder still, the wolf sensed. That was where his brother was, the grey brother who smelled of summer.
...
Jon pissed in darkness, filling his chamber pot as the Old Bear’s raven muttered complaints. The wolf dreams had been growing stronger, and he found himself remembering them even when awake. Ghost knows that Grey Wind is dead. Robb had died at the Twins, betrayed by men he’d believed his friends, and his wolf had perished with him. Bran and Rickon had been murdered too, beheaded at the behest of Theon Greyjoy, who had once been their lord father’s ward … but if dreams did not lie, their direwolves had escaped. At Queenscrown, one had come out of the darkness to save Jon’s life. Summer, it had to be. His fur was grey, and Shaggydog is black. He wondered if some part of his dead brothers lived on inside their wolves.
Полагаю, что мне нет смысла заниматься сейчас толкованием приведенной выдержки. Вроде вполне понятно, что речь идёт о Сером Ветре, которого Призрак перестал чувствовать. Таким образом, к Рикону никакого отношения исчезновение волка не имеет.
а что Роберт Баратеон сам хотел женить своего сына на дочери Неда Старка
