[Of all the things he's seen today, the wolf worries him the most. He can't help but remember the Starks and their direwolves, and the bastard's white runt with its red eyes... but this wolf looks concerned, not angry. And... curious? Well, why not tell it? He's told the story to every friend and family member who gasped at seeing him after he'd been maimed. Why not odd white wolves that send their pictures through little metal boxes?]

This? I was weak, and my hands were chained, and so I was captured, and... a mercenary thought to send a message to my father. That's all.

[He is falsely glib. He still sees the sun glinting off the blade before it came down in his dreams sometimes.]