The beds in Greywater Watch are surrounded by many fine nets, that Bran takes for a kind of decorative drapery, until he spends his first night in one.
The sun hasn't yet set when he sees the first swamp flies buzz into the bedchamber through the windows.
Jojen closes hastily any openings between the webs and returns to Bran in the middle of the bed.
Thirsty for blood, the insects crawl around and bump against the drapes, moaning noisily in a high pitch. Bran can't help but stare.
They look huge, and if one were to find its way inside the tent of layers, he's sure the attack would be painful. Jojen is quietly watching both Bran and the nets, his arm on Bran's stomach.
He must be used to this, he would not be this anxious if he were alone in his bed, Bran thinks, he is being protective because I am here; and he smiles at his friend.
Jojen kisses him quickly, claiming him as his own, his lips, the sweaty pale skin, the smell that is driving the creatures mad.
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