It was enough to make a girl wish she had her swords; there was a grace to it, even at its most brutal, that you didn't get with a knife.

But a knife worked all the same, and so did the gun. Ultimately, it didn't matter how you killed, so long as the person ended up dead.

She came clear of her roll as a bell rang. Arya knew a warning when she heard one, and she might never have seen a train before, but she knew what a door looked like. She sprinted for it, the knife leaving her hand and burying itself in the back of the knee of the one man still standing, although not for very long.