"My name is Gregor Clegane," the Mountain said.
"You are the Mountain?" Arya's voice sharpened. Her wolf, in perfect harmony with its master, immediately bared its teeth and its eyes flashed with ferocity, ready to attack the Mountain at Arya's command.
This little girl is definitely a troublemaker; she's not someone to mess with!
"I am the Mountain!" the Mountain declared. He clenched his iron gauntlet into a fist, ready to smash the direwolf's head in two.
"You're a big bad guy!"
"That's right, I am a big bad guy!"
"Pah! I won't go with you!" Arya refused decisively.
The Mountain chuckled: "Where do you think you're going? In less than half an hour, the Hound will be leading his soldiers to hunt you and Mikay. Even if you hide in the Trident River, the Hound will find you."
"I know where to hide," Arya said confidently, her tone full of contempt for the Mountain.
This tomboyish girl is quite bold; she wasn't afraid of Demon Mountain at all! Many murderers and ruthless bandits trembled at the sight of Demon Mountain; a single glance from him could instill fear in many strong men. This is one reason why so many fierce individuals willingly and loyally follow Demon Mountain—he possesses the attributes of a great demon king, and those around him are equally vicious and ruthless.
Birds of a feather flock together!
The Mountain shrugged. "Fine, pretend I didn't see you. Run! But don't go into that grove of trees ahead." The Mountain pointed to a grove of trees where his tents were located. His bandits were there, and many of them could tell at a glance that Arya was a girl. They might even capture Arya and strip her naked.
"I'm going in anyway!" True to form, she added, "I'm not afraid of you!"
The Mountain noticed Little Thorn's nervousness. Although her direwolf bared its teeth, when the Mountain clenched its massive fist, preparing for a defensive counterattack, the wolf took a small step back. The Mountain knew that wolves and their masters were of one mind; all six Stark children shared a mysterious spiritual connection with their wolves.
The wolf retreated slightly, indicating that its master was afraid, but the little rascal's tone remained firm at all!
"Alright, go in. My men are inside. Let me warn you, they're all little scoundrels. They might be attracted to your beauty, strip you naked, and kill your direwolf. They don't know you're a Stark. Look at what you're wearing, tattered clothes, filthy face, like a beggar."
"Pah!" the little girl spat, and ran off. Despite her tough talk, she still avoided the woods and ran upstream with the river. "Mountain, if you're a real knight, don't tell the Hound which way we're going."
The Demon Mountain chuckled in disbelief!
Arya showed him disdain and contempt, yet before leaving, she asked him not to reveal her whereabouts.
"I'm going to tell the Hound the way you and Michael ran away!" the Mountain shouted.
Arya's face immediately darkened. Her direwolf howled at the Demon Mountain, quickened its pace, and ran swiftly away along the riverbank.
The Mountain watched as Arya and her wolf disappeared without a trace.
*
In the year 289 of the Aegonian calendar, Arya Stark was born in Winterfell in the North, and was nine years old. The little girl was thin, with a pretty face, nimble hands and feet, and naturally agile, but her clothes were always filthy. Her noble lady-like demeanor was characterized by slovenliness and disarray.
The Mountain is surrounded by villains, while Arya's friends are mostly heroes and valiant men, such as peddlers, wandering singers, blacksmiths and grooms, bakers and butchers' sons. For example, the warrior Michael, who was practicing his sword on Ruby Beach, is one of her good friends.
Even the finest silk clothes would become fuzzy and prickly on Arya within half a day, and would be dirty and torn in no time. She was the most troublesome little girl for Lady Caitlin, and also the good student for whom Sister Mordan, her governess, complained to the lord and his wife every day.
A nine-year-old girl who dared to throw the prince's sword into the river and strike the back of the prince's head with a training sword from behind—this wildness and courage were not forged in a day! However, no matter how wild and prickly she was, she was still just a nine-year-old girl. After causing trouble, she was still so afraid that she thought of running away from home.
The current at Ruby Beach was gentle, and the Mountain spotted the spot where Arya had dropped the Lion's Tooth. The nine-year-old girl hadn't been able to throw the sword very far, so the Mountain went into the river and retrieved it without much effort. The blade, washed clean by the river water, gleamed as it emerged from the water, the sunlight reflecting off it dazzlingly.
A fine sword!
The golden lion head at the end of the sword hilt alone is quite expensive.
The Mountain led Lion Fang into the forest, where his brothers were practicing swordsmanship. Practical training in the forest is essential; a good swordsman knows how to use the environment to his advantage. Fighting in the forest, with its many obstacles, further hones one's reflexes and agility.
The Mountain tossed the sword to Bernie, a sweaty bartender. Bernie was overjoyed, and his brothers gathered around, all filled with envy and amazement. For a warrior, a good sword meant an extra life.
"Lord Mountain, where did you steal this sword?" Bernie asked, both surprised and delighted. He no longer called the Mountain Lord Gregor; he called him Lord Mountain, just like his fierce brothers. Bernie hadn't been with the Mountain for long before he quickly reverted from a timid boy to his true self, becoming a cunning, smooth-talking, quick-witted, and sharp-tongued individual. His ventriloquism, under the Mountain's strict orders, was occasionally entertaining.
The Mountain told him to "not use his superior skills," and although he didn't quite understand why, obeying orders was a given, without a doubt!
"Smash off the golden lion's head. This is Prince Joffrey's sword," the Mountain said. "When we go to see King Robert, we mustn't let him see you carrying the prince's sword."
"You, sir, stole the prince's sword?" Bernie exclaimed in surprise.
"I found it in the river. The prince and the prime minister's daughter had a fight at the Gem Beach. The prince lost, and the prime minister's daughter threw the sword into the river. The prince was responsible for going back to heal his wounds, the prime minister's daughter was responsible for escaping, and I was responsible for retrieving the sword! I'm glad the prime minister's daughter didn't throw it too far."
Bernie and his brothers burst out laughing!
"Let's go, set up camp, raise the flags, and head to see the King! We'll just have to watch how Queen Cersei tears into Hand of the King tonight for Prince Joffrey!"
So, amidst the lewd banter and laughter, the brothers set up camp, mounted their horses, and headed to the famous Ruby Beach. They bathed, let their horses graze, and after washing up, mounted their horses, lined up, raised the banners of the Westerlands and Clegane, with The Mountain at the head, and slowly made their way to Earl Harlowe's town.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves thundered through the streets of Earl's Town, and a troop of men charged out of the town. At the head of the troop was a fierce general, very tall, wearing a ferocious dog helmet and a red Western cloak. He led dozens of red-cloaked cavalrymen straight toward the road leading to the Mountain's group.
The demon mountain stopped and stood in the middle of the road, refusing to give way.
The fierce warrior who arrived was none other than the Mountain's younger brother, who had sworn since he was seven years old to kill Sandor Clegane, the Mountain's hound, with his own hands!