"Osha, the torch," he said, biting through his pain, and she snatched it up before it went out. Soot stains blackened both legs of his uncle's likeness. "That... that beast," Luwin went on, "is supposed to be chained up in the kennels."
Rickon patted Shaggydog's muzzle, damp with blood. "I let him loose. He doesn't like chains." He licked at his fingers.
Rickon, Bran said, "would you like to come with me?"
No. I like it here.
It's dark here. And cold.
I'm not afraid. I have to wait for Father.
You can wait with me, Bran said. "We'll wait together, you and me and our wolves." Both of the direwolves were licking wounds now, and would bear close watching.
Bran, the maester said firmly, "I know you mean well, but Shaggydog is too wild to run loose. I'm the third man he's savaged. Give him the freedom of the castle and it's only a question of time before he kills someone. The truth is hard, but the wolf has to be chained, or... He hesitated... or killed, Bran thought, but what he said was, "He was not made for chains. We will wait in your tower, all of us."
That is quite impossible, Maester Luwin said.
Osha grinned. "The boy's the lordling here, as I recall." She handed Luwin back his torch and scooped Bran up into her arms again. "The maester's tower it is."