定义列表
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="utf-8" />
<title>title>
head>
<body>
<dl>
<dt>武松dt>
<dd>景阳冈打虎英雄，战斗力99dd>
<dd>后打死西门庆，投奔梁山dd>
<dt>武大dt>
<dd>著名餐饮企业家，战斗力0dd>
dl>
body>
html>
单位
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.box{
width: 300px;
height: 300px;
background-color: red;
}
.box1{
font-size: 20px;
width: 2em;
height: 50%;
background-color: yellow;
}
style>
head>
<body>
<div class="box">
<div class="box1">div>
div>
body>
html>
颜色的单位
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.box1{
width: 100px;
height: 100px;
background-color: #084098;
}
style>
head>
<body>
<div class="box1">div>
body>
html>
字体的样式
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.p1{
color: red;
font-size: 30px;
font-family: "curlz mt";
}
style>
head>
<body>
<p class="p1">
我是一个p标签，ABCDEFGabcdefg
p>
body>
html>
字体的分类
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
p{
font-family: arial , 微软雅黑 , 华文彩云 , serif;
}
style>
head>
<body>
<p style="font-size: 50px; font-family: serif;">衬线字体：我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p style="font-size: 50px; font-family: sans-serif;">非衬线字体：我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p style="font-size: 50px; font-family: monospace;">等宽字体：我是一段文字，IHABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p style="font-size: 50px; font-family: cursive;">草书字体：我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p style="font-size: 50px; font-family: fantasy;">虚幻字体：我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
body>
html>
字体的其他样式
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.p1{
color: red;
font-size: 30px;
font-family: "微软雅黑";
font-style: italic;
font-weight: bold;
font-variant: small-caps ;
}
.p2{
font-size: 50px;
font-family: 华文彩云;
font-style: italic;
font-weight: bold;
font-variant: small-caps;
}
.p3{
font: small-caps bold italic 60px "微软雅黑";
}
style>
head>
<body>
<p class="p3">我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p class="p1">我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
<p class="p2">我是一段文字，ABCDEFGabcdefgp>
body>
html>
行间距
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.p1{
font-size: 20px;
line-height: 2;
}
.box{
width: 200px;
height: 200px;
background-color: #bfa;
line-height: 200px;
}
.p2{
font: 30px "微软雅黑";
line-height: 50px;
}
style>
head>
<body>
<p class="p2">
在我的后园，可以看见墙外有两株树，一株是枣树，还有一株也是枣树。 这上面的夜的天空，奇怪而高，我生平没有见过这样奇怪而高的天空。他仿佛要离开人间而去，使人们仰面不再看见。然而现在却非常之蓝，闪闪地䀹着几十个星星的眼，冷眼。他的口角上现出微笑，似乎自以为大有深意，而将繁霜洒在我的园里的野花草上。 我不知道那些花草真叫什么名字，人们叫他们什么名字。我记得有一种开过极细小的粉红花，现在还开着，但是更极细小了，她在冷的夜气中，瑟缩地做梦，梦见春的到来，梦见秋的到来，梦见瘦的诗人将眼泪擦在她最末的花瓣上，告诉她秋虽然来，冬虽然来，而此后接着还是春，蝴蝶乱飞，蜜蜂都唱起春词来了。她于是一笑，虽然颜色冻得红惨惨地，仍然瑟缩着。 枣树，他们简直落尽了叶子。先前，还有一两个孩子来打他们，别人打剩的枣子，现在是一个也不剩了，连叶子也落尽了。他知道小粉红花的梦，秋后要有春；他也知道落叶的梦，春后还是秋。他简直落尽叶子，单剩干子，然而脱了当初满树是果实和叶子时候的弧形，欠伸得很舒服。但是，有几枝还低亚着，护定他从打枣的竿梢所得的皮伤，而最直最长的几枝，却已默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，使天空闪闪地鬼䀹眼；直刺着天空中圆满的月亮，使月亮窘得发白。 鬼䀹眼的天空越加非常之蓝，不安了，仿佛想离去人间，避开枣树，只将月亮剩下。然而月亮也暗暗地躲到东边去了。而一无所有的干子，却仍然默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，一意要制他的死命，不管他各式各样地䀹着许多蛊惑的眼睛。 哇的一声，夜游的恶鸟飞过了。 我忽而听到夜半的笑声，吃吃地，似乎不愿意惊动睡着的人，然而四围的空气都应和着笑。夜半，没有别的人，我即刻听出这声音就在我嘴里，我也即刻被这笑声所驱逐，回进自己的房。灯火的带子也即刻被我旋高了。 后窗的玻璃上丁丁地响，还有许多小飞虫乱撞。不多久，几个进来了，许是从窗纸的破孔进来的。他们一进来，又在玻璃的灯罩上撞得丁丁地响。一个从上面撞进去了，他于是遇到火，而且我以为这火是真的。两三个却休息在灯的纸罩上喘气。那罩是昨晚新换的罩，雪白的纸，折出波浪纹的叠痕，一角还画出一枝猩红色的栀子。 猩红的栀子开花时，枣树又要做小粉红花的梦，青葱地弯成弧形了……我又听到夜半的笑声；我赶紧砍断我的心绪，看那老在白纸罩上的小青虫，头大尾小，向日葵子似的，只有半粒小麦那么大，遍身的颜色苍翠得可爱，可怜。 我打一个呵欠，点起一支纸烟，喷出烟来，对着灯默默地敬奠这些苍翠精致的英雄们。 一九二四年九月十五日。
p>
<div class="box">
<a href="#">我是一个超链接a>
div>
<p class="p1">
在我的后园，可以看见墙外有两株树，一株是枣树，还有一株也是枣树。 这上面的夜的天空，奇怪而高，我生平没有见过这样奇怪而高的天空。他仿佛要离开人间而去，使人们仰面不再看见。然而现在却非常之蓝，闪闪地䀹着几十个星星的眼，冷眼。他的口角上现出微笑，似乎自以为大有深意，而将繁霜洒在我的园里的野花草上。 我不知道那些花草真叫什么名字，人们叫他们什么名字。我记得有一种开过极细小的粉红花，现在还开着，但是更极细小了，她在冷的夜气中，瑟缩地做梦，梦见春的到来，梦见秋的到来，梦见瘦的诗人将眼泪擦在她最末的花瓣上，告诉她秋虽然来，冬虽然来，而此后接着还是春，蝴蝶乱飞，蜜蜂都唱起春词来了。她于是一笑，虽然颜色冻得红惨惨地，仍然瑟缩着。 枣树，他们简直落尽了叶子。先前，还有一两个孩子来打他们，别人打剩的枣子，现在是一个也不剩了，连叶子也落尽了。他知道小粉红花的梦，秋后要有春；他也知道落叶的梦，春后还是秋。他简直落尽叶子，单剩干子，然而脱了当初满树是果实和叶子时候的弧形，欠伸得很舒服。但是，有几枝还低亚着，护定他从打枣的竿梢所得的皮伤，而最直最长的几枝，却已默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，使天空闪闪地鬼䀹眼；直刺着天空中圆满的月亮，使月亮窘得发白。 鬼䀹眼的天空越加非常之蓝，不安了，仿佛想离去人间，避开枣树，只将月亮剩下。然而月亮也暗暗地躲到东边去了。而一无所有的干子，却仍然默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，一意要制他的死命，不管他各式各样地䀹着许多蛊惑的眼睛。 哇的一声，夜游的恶鸟飞过了。 我忽而听到夜半的笑声，吃吃地，似乎不愿意惊动睡着的人，然而四围的空气都应和着笑。夜半，没有别的人，我即刻听出这声音就在我嘴里，我也即刻被这笑声所驱逐，回进自己的房。灯火的带子也即刻被我旋高了。 后窗的玻璃上丁丁地响，还有许多小飞虫乱撞。不多久，几个进来了，许是从窗纸的破孔进来的。他们一进来，又在玻璃的灯罩上撞得丁丁地响。一个从上面撞进去了，他于是遇到火，而且我以为这火是真的。两三个却休息在灯的纸罩上喘气。那罩是昨晚新换的罩，雪白的纸，折出波浪纹的叠痕，一角还画出一枝猩红色的栀子。 猩红的栀子开花时，枣树又要做小粉红花的梦，青葱地弯成弧形了……我又听到夜半的笑声；我赶紧砍断我的心绪，看那老在白纸罩上的小青虫，头大尾小，向日葵子似的，只有半粒小麦那么大，遍身的颜色苍翠得可爱，可怜。 我打一个呵欠，点起一支纸烟，喷出烟来，对着灯默默地敬奠这些苍翠精致的英雄们。 一九二四年九月十五日。
p>
body>
html>
文本样式
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>title>
<style type="text/css">
.p1 {
text-transform: lowercase;
}
.p2 {
text-decoration: line-through;
}
a {
text-decoration: none;
}
.p3 {
word-spacing: 120px;
}
.p4{
text-align: justify ;
}
.p5{
font-size: 20px;
text-indent: -99999px;
}
style>
head>
<body>
<p class="p5">
在我的后园，可以看见墙外有两株树，一株是枣树，还有一株也是枣树。 这上面的夜的天空，奇怪而高，我生平没有见过这样奇怪而高的天空。他仿佛要离开人间而去，使人们仰面不再看见。然而现在却非常之蓝，闪闪地䀹着几十个星星的眼，冷眼。他的口角上现出微笑，似乎自以为大有深意，而将繁霜洒在我的园里的野花草上。 我不知道那些花草真叫什么名字，人们叫他们什么名字。我记得有一种开过极细小的粉红花，现在还开着，但是更极细小了，她在冷的夜气中，瑟缩地做梦，梦见春的到来，梦见秋的到来，梦见瘦的诗人将眼泪擦在她最末的花瓣上，告诉她秋虽然来，冬虽然来，而此后接着还是春，蝴蝶乱飞，蜜蜂都唱起春词来了。她于是一笑，虽然颜色冻得红惨惨地，仍然瑟缩着。 枣树，他们简直落尽了叶子。先前，还有一两个孩子来打他们，别人打剩的枣子，现在是一个也不剩了，连叶子也落尽了。他知道小粉红花的梦，秋后要有春；他也知道落叶的梦，春后还是秋。他简直落尽叶子，单剩干子，然而脱了当初满树是果实和叶子时候的弧形，欠伸得很舒服。但是，有几枝还低亚着，护定他从打枣的竿梢所得的皮伤，而最直最长的几枝，却已默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，使天空闪闪地鬼䀹眼；直刺着天空中圆满的月亮，使月亮窘得发白。 鬼䀹眼的天空越加非常之蓝，不安了，仿佛想离去人间，避开枣树，只将月亮剩下。然而月亮也暗暗地躲到东边去了。而一无所有的干子，却仍然默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，一意要制他的死命，不管他各式各样地䀹着许多蛊惑的眼睛。 哇的一声，夜游的恶鸟飞过了。 我忽而听到夜半的笑声，吃吃地，似乎不愿意惊动睡着的人，然而四围的空气都应和着笑。夜半，没有别的人，我即刻听出这声音就在我嘴里，我也即刻被这笑声所驱逐，回进自己的房。灯火的带子也即刻被我旋高了。 后窗的玻璃上丁丁地响，还有许多小飞虫乱撞。不多久，几个进来了，许是从窗纸的破孔进来的。他们一进来，又在玻璃的灯罩上撞得丁丁地响。一个从上面撞进去了，他于是遇到火，而且我以为这火是真的。两三个却休息在灯的纸罩上喘气。那罩是昨晚新换的罩，雪白的纸，折出波浪纹的叠痕，一角还画出一枝猩红色的栀子。 猩红的栀子开花时，枣树又要做小粉红花的梦，青葱地弯成弧形了……我又听到夜半的笑声；我赶紧砍断我的心绪，看那老在白纸罩上的小青虫，头大尾小，向日葵子似的，只有半粒小麦那么大，遍身的颜色苍翠得可爱，可怜。 我打一个呵欠，点起一支纸烟，喷出烟来，对着灯默默地敬奠这些苍翠精致的英雄们。 一九二四年九月十五日。
p>
<h1 class="p4">我是一个h1h1>
<p class="p4">
在我的后园，可以看见墙外有两株树，一株是枣树，还有一株也是枣树。 这上面的夜的天空，奇怪而高，我生平没有见过这样奇怪而高的天空。他仿佛要离开人间而去，使人们仰面不再看见。然而现在却非常之蓝，闪闪地䀹着几十个星星的眼，冷眼。他的口角上现出微笑，似乎自以为大有深意，而将繁霜洒在我的园里的野花草上。 我不知道那些花草真叫什么名字，人们叫他们什么名字。我记得有一种开过极细小的粉红花，现在还开着，但是更极细小了，她在冷的夜气中，瑟缩地做梦，梦见春的到来，梦见秋的到来，梦见瘦的诗人将眼泪擦在她最末的花瓣上，告诉她秋虽然来，冬虽然来，而此后接着还是春，蝴蝶乱飞，蜜蜂都唱起春词来了。她于是一笑，虽然颜色冻得红惨惨地，仍然瑟缩着。 枣树，他们简直落尽了叶子。先前，还有一两个孩子来打他们，别人打剩的枣子，现在是一个也不剩了，连叶子也落尽了。他知道小粉红花的梦，秋后要有春；他也知道落叶的梦，春后还是秋。他简直落尽叶子，单剩干子，然而脱了当初满树是果实和叶子时候的弧形，欠伸得很舒服。但是，有几枝还低亚着，护定他从打枣的竿梢所得的皮伤，而最直最长的几枝，却已默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，使天空闪闪地鬼䀹眼；直刺着天空中圆满的月亮，使月亮窘得发白。 鬼䀹眼的天空越加非常之蓝，不安了，仿佛想离去人间，避开枣树，只将月亮剩下。然而月亮也暗暗地躲到东边去了。而一无所有的干子，却仍然默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，一意要制他的死命，不管他各式各样地䀹着许多蛊惑的眼睛。 哇的一声，夜游的恶鸟飞过了。 我忽而听到夜半的笑声，吃吃地，似乎不愿意惊动睡着的人，然而四围的空气都应和着笑。夜半，没有别的人，我即刻听出这声音就在我嘴里，我也即刻被这笑声所驱逐，回进自己的房。灯火的带子也即刻被我旋高了。 后窗的玻璃上丁丁地响，还有许多小飞虫乱撞。不多久，几个进来了，许是从窗纸的破孔进来的。他们一进来，又在玻璃的灯罩上撞得丁丁地响。一个从上面撞进去了，他于是遇到火，而且我以为这火是真的。两三个却休息在灯的纸罩上喘气。那罩是昨晚新换的罩，雪白的纸，折出波浪纹的叠痕，一角还画出一枝猩红色的栀子。 猩红的栀子开花时，枣树又要做小粉红花的梦，青葱地弯成弧形了……我又听到夜半的笑声；我赶紧砍断我的心绪，看那老在白纸罩上的小青虫，头大尾小，向日葵子似的，只有半粒小麦那么大，遍身的颜色苍翠得可爱，可怜。 我打一个呵欠，点起一支纸烟，喷出烟来，对着灯默默地敬奠这些苍翠精致的英雄们。 一九二四年九月十五日。
p>
<p class="p4">
“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.” “Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile. Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.” “Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?” “Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.” Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in. “My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest. “We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.” Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?” Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear. Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.
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<p class="p3">
在我的后园，可以看见墙外有两株树，一株是枣树，还有一株也是枣树。 这上面的夜的天空，奇怪而高，我生平没有见过这样奇怪而高的天空。他仿佛要离开人间而去，使人们仰面不再看见。然而现在却非常之蓝，闪闪地䀹着几十个星星的眼，冷眼。他的口角上现出微笑，似乎自以为大有深意，而将繁霜洒在我的园里的野花草上。 我不知道那些花草真叫什么名字，人们叫他们什么名字。我记得有一种开过极细小的粉红花，现在还开着，但是更极细小了，她在冷的夜气中，瑟缩地做梦，梦见春的到来，梦见秋的到来，梦见瘦的诗人将眼泪擦在她最末的花瓣上，告诉她秋虽然来，冬虽然来，而此后接着还是春，蝴蝶乱飞，蜜蜂都唱起春词来了。她于是一笑，虽然颜色冻得红惨惨地，仍然瑟缩着。 枣树，他们简直落尽了叶子。先前，还有一两个孩子来打他们，别人打剩的枣子，现在是一个也不剩了，连叶子也落尽了。他知道小粉红花的梦，秋后要有春；他也知道落叶的梦，春后还是秋。他简直落尽叶子，单剩干子，然而脱了当初满树是果实和叶子时候的弧形，欠伸得很舒服。但是，有几枝还低亚着，护定他从打枣的竿梢所得的皮伤，而最直最长的几枝，却已默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，使天空闪闪地鬼䀹眼；直刺着天空中圆满的月亮，使月亮窘得发白。 鬼䀹眼的天空越加非常之蓝，不安了，仿佛想离去人间，避开枣树，只将月亮剩下。然而月亮也暗暗地躲到东边去了。而一无所有的干子，却仍然默默地铁似的直刺着奇怪而高的天空，一意要制他的死命，不管他各式各样地䀹着许多蛊惑的眼睛。 哇的一声，夜游的恶鸟飞过了。 我忽而听到夜半的笑声，吃吃地，似乎不愿意惊动睡着的人，然而四围的空气都应和着笑。夜半，没有别的人，我即刻听出这声音就在我嘴里，我也即刻被这笑声所驱逐，回进自己的房。灯火的带子也即刻被我旋高了。 后窗的玻璃上丁丁地响，还有许多小飞虫乱撞。不多久，几个进来了，许是从窗纸的破孔进来的。他们一进来，又在玻璃的灯罩上撞得丁丁地响。一个从上面撞进去了，他于是遇到火，而且我以为这火是真的。两三个却休息在灯的纸罩上喘气。那罩是昨晚新换的罩，雪白的纸，折出波浪纹的叠痕，一角还画出一枝猩红色的栀子。 猩红的栀子开花时，枣树又要做小粉红花的梦，青葱地弯成弧形了……我又听到夜半的笑声；我赶紧砍断我的心绪，看那老在白纸罩上的小青虫，头大尾小，向日葵子似的，只有半粒小麦那么大，遍身的颜色苍翠得可爱，可怜。 我打一个呵欠，点起一支纸烟，喷出烟来，对着灯默默地敬奠这些苍翠精致的英雄们。 一九二四年九月十五日。
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<p class="p3">
“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.” “Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile. Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.” “Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?” “Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.” Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in. “My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest. “We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.” Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?” Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear. Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.
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<p class="p2">
“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.” “Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile. Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.” “Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?” “Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.” Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in. “My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest. “We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.” Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?” Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear. Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.
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<p class="p1">
“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.” “Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile. Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.” “Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?” “Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.” Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in. “My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest. “We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.” Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?” Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear. Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him.
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