Chapter 2

The neighing of horses, swishing tails, thick crimson blood, billowing dust, shallow hoofprints embedded in the parched red soil, and scattered patches of brown grass — these elements summed up Drogo’s vague and desolate dream, stretching endlessly ahead.

He didn’t know how long he wandered through that dream.

Eventually, something different appeared: aside from the scattered ashes of dead campfires, the most striking sight was a corpse — its chest and abdomen crushed, its throat torn out — clutching tightly to an arakh even in death.