A/N: Alright, here it is! I hope you enjoy this first, easy chapter. Thank you all for being patient!
His prey was close. Even with the camouflage and intruding smells, it was not enough to conceal the mouth-watering scent that wafted his way. He inhaled it sharply through his nostrils, reveling in the delightful sweetness of it, and how it managed to bring his already hot blood to a boil.
There would be no escape for the prey now. Sandor had locked onto his target, and he was intent on closing in. Not just yet though. Better to wait, take his time, savor the inevitable. It would only make the victory so much more satisfying and delicious.
In measured, silent steps, he crept closer, ears pricked forward, every muscle tensed and ready, twitching in anticipation of the unknowing feast that lay before him. He almost wished the prey would run: how delightful it would be to chase! Ah, but it would be over too soon.
The grass parted before him with barely a rustle, like a knife slipping through butter. A few feet away, he could finally see his prey through the green blades. Unable to help himself, his tongue licked at jaws, and he allowed a wicked smirk to pull at his lips. There she was, a tasty little morsel just waiting for him. A gift lain at his feet. All she was missing was a bow.
Oh yes, this was going to be very sweet indeed. No dog would turn away from such a juicy prize, and Sandor was not an exception. He hunkered down, drinking in the sight. The prey was lying still, relaxed, so innocent and unaware of the danger only a short ways away from her. He could practically taste her now, the scent was so strong, and his mouth watered with the knowledge that soon, soon, he would claim her. But still, not yet. Let her have some chance. There would still only be one outcome, but at the very least he could give her a warning. Perhaps he would get that chase after all.
Eyeing a small, gathered flock of fowl in the grass to his right, Sandor crept towards them, halting immediately when they squawked in alarm and took to the skies. There, that should give the prey enough of an idea to know she was being hunted. Eager to watch her reaction, Sandor peered through the grass to watch.
Everything was light and sweet-smelling and peaceful. Hidden in the tall grass and clumps of flowers, Sansa lay dreaming, somewhere between sleep and being awake. After so many cool days, the weather had warmed again, and the mid-morning sun smiled down on her, casting sunbeams across her skin.
Sansa smiled, reaching her arms up to stretch, then let them fall, splayed out from her body. Contentment, and happiness, had been emotions she had once feared she would never feel or experience again. But not anymore.
Some birds suddenly fluttered into the air near her, chirping madly as they pumped their wings away into the wind. Sansa lay perfectly still, listening.
Not a sound was heard except the wind rustling the tall grasses, but Sansa could feel that she was no longer alone. Something in the atmosphere had shifted around her, and slowly, carefully, she raised her head up to glance at her surroundings; first to the right, then the left.
She swallowed as the feeling of being watched washed over her, and she froze uncertainly. She could jump up, face whatever it was and run, or she could remain still, and hope that it would pass her by. She glanced to her right again, and this time she caught a sight of something dark hidden amongst the grasses.
Relief caused her to relax again, and she sat up and called out sweetly, "Sandor! You can come out now!"
After a moment, a large, hulking dog-beast stood up, towering over the grass, and moved towards her, shaking his head. "You could have at least played along," he growled. Sansa blinked at him curiously. "I didn't realize you were playing a game. What was it?" The Hound reached her and sat on his haunches, dark grey eyes roving over her body and making her skin tingle. "I was hunting you," he answered, and bent his head to snuffle at her neck. Giggling, Sansa raised her hands and sunk them into the deep fur of his chest, running her fingers up and down. Sandor's tail wagged, thumping against the grass. "I am very sorry, then, to have ruined it. I shall know better for next time." She offered him a smile and he gave her one of his doggy smirks, turning to lick her hand when she brought it near. Then he stood, shaking out his coat. "Come, little bird, let's go home and eat something." Sansa rose to her feet and brushed off her dress, and they walked together back towards the wood.
Sansa gave the meadow one last look. It was her favorite place to be, besides Sandor's arms. It was their meadow, their little serene, heavenly spot. Despite the bloodshed that had occurred there not long ago, Sansa still loved and cherished the time they spent there.
Had it really been almost a month since they had wed? Time seemed to have stood still for them, in their forest, with no one around but each other. Sansa would not have traded those weeks for anything, so happy she was.
What a wonderful thing it is, she thought, dreaming again, to be in love. Sansa could scarcely describe the glory, the wonder, the enchantment of what she felt for Sandor, and it had only grown and flourished in their short time as newlyweds. Everything she had ever read about love seemed to pale in comparison of the exquisite passion they shared. Just thinking of it made her blush and she reached to tangle her fingers in the thick fur by his shoulder.
They had wed soon after Sansa had been awakened from the sleeping curse. Neither of them wanted to waste any more time, especially Sandor, as he had come so close to losing her forever. He went to town and brought back a beautiful, light and airy dress of cream and green for her to wear. Sansa had only needed to alter it in a few places and it fit perfectly. Sandor said he had found a merchant from across the seas that had been selling bolts of cloth and fabrics, but his eyes had spotted a dress already made. The merchant told him that a customer had requested the dress to be made, only to never show up to retrieve it. Sansa was glad for that. It was the loveliest gown she had ever owned; even more than her silks in King's Landing.
Sandor also found a weirwood tree for them to say their vows by. It was still small, barely taller than a bush. "What is one doing here, so far from the North?" Sansa wondered when Sandor took her to see it. He did not know, but he agreed with her that this should be the place where they wed. Sandor did not care for the gods, old or new, but it was special to Sansa. "It will make me feel closer to the North, and to my father," she whispered softly, tracing the white bark.
Their wedding was nothing fancy or ornate, but Sansa thought it special all the same. She dressed in the gown and left her feet bare, happy that the day was going to be a warm one. Winter was coming, and even in the South those months could be cold. She had let her hair down in soft waves, and wove in tiny flowers here and there among the strands. Sandor simply wore a clean white tunic and dark pants, with his sword strapped to his side. Together they made their way to the tree and stood before it.
The morning light cast a soft glow around them as they repeated their vows to one another, as if the very air contained a magic caused by their love. Sansa had no maiden's cloak, but Sandor had a cloak that contained some of his house colors, and he draped it around her carefully. Then he knelt before her and held his sword out, pledging not only his heart to her but his strength and protection as well, the only oath he had ever taken. It brought tears of happiness to her eyes, and Sansa pulled him up so that they could kiss and seal their union before the old gods.
Just as they pulled apart for air, several dark shapes approached them through the trees. Sansa had gasped and clung to Sandor, but he only chuckled and patted her back comfortingly. "Don't worry, little bird. They are friends." Still a little uneasy, Sansa watched as one wolf, apparently the leader came forward. It rumbled low in its throat, looking at Sandor, who said, "This is Greyback, and he and the other wolves offer…congratulations on our union."
Sansa relaxed a little, and she smiled at the wolf, giving a little curtsy. "Thank you, Greyback." The wolf twitched an ear and met and Sandor's eyes again, before turning and loping off with the other wolves. "What did he say?" she asked curiously. Sandor cleared his throat and shifted back and forth before giving her a mischievous glance. "He said that he hopes we will be blessed with many pups."
Sansa had blushed and stammered out some sort of response, which was cut short as Sandor lifted her abruptly into his arms and carried her back to the cabin.
They didn't leave it for three days, using the time to love and learn each other. There was no other place that Sansa wanted to be except in his arms, snuggled down in the furs on their bed. For a man of action, Sandor seemed perfectly willing to lie there for hours with her, sharing kisses and lazily trailing his fingers over her skin. They only left the bed to make food and eat it, and even then Sansa would sit perched on his lap while they fed each other choice morsels. The cabin had become a small piece of heaven to them.
Those first days stretched into weeks as they eventually molded back into their old routines. Sandor still stayed with her, only leaving in the early morning and at night to patrol the forest and hunt. Sometimes when he came back, he would wake her, his blood up from his dog form, and he loved her under the light of the moon or the dawn. He stayed in his human form much more often, and every day he would stand in the yard and train with his sword while Sansa watched, happily sewing or baking. The days were filled with sweet contentment, and the nights were filled with a love and passion that made Sansa want to fly and sing like the little bird Sandor claimed her to be.
He had changed too, in some ways. Sandor was still gruff and course, but Sansa's love and need for him had softened the scowling, sharp edges of his soul, and he practically worshiped her. Their little domestic life was simple, but Sansa wouldn't trade any of it, not even for a castle and all the fine clothes and jewels she could ever want. Those things used to be what was important to her, but she knew now that having this with Sandor was what could make her truly happy.
Sansa's thoughts were interrupted as they reached the cabin, and Sandor changed back into his human form. Sansa had seen the change before, but it still awed and overwhelmed her every time. It was so strange to see this hulking, giant dog suddenly lighten in color, the fur disappearing until only hair remained, and he rose to stand on his hind legs, and suddenly there was a man before her. The transformation seemed so fluid and gradual, yet in the blink of an eye Sandor became one or the other. And now that they were wed, he didn't bother to hide his nakedness, though it still made Sansa blush.
He winked at her and took her hand, drawing her into the cabin, where they cooked a midday meal together, finding excuses to touch the other's hands or brush against them as they walked by. "Earlier, when you said you were hunting me," Sansa began as she chewed a piece of deer meat, "what were you planning to do if you caught me?" Sandor quirked an eyebrow at her, amused. "When I caught you, I was going to ravish you, of course." He leaned and nipped at her shoulder playfully, pulling the fabric aside so he could lavish attention on her skin. Sitting in his lap, there wasn't anywhere for Sansa to go, and her hands were full of her bowl and spoon. Sighing, she giggled at his touch and the wicked grin he gave her. "It reminds me of the night you found me," she replied. "I thought you were going to eat me." That night seemed so long ago, though it hadn't even been a year since Sandor had taken her to his cabin.
He chuckled and nuzzled at her collarbone. "But I am going to eat you." He trailed fiery kisses up her neck until his mouth reached her ear. "I'm going to gobble you up, and there's nothing you can do about it, little bird." Sansa felt her heart racing, his deep raspy voice making her squirm. He pulled away then, smirking. "But not until we finish this food." Sansa smiled and granted him a peck on the lips, and they continued with their lunch.
Later, with the afternoon sun streaming through the open windows, Sansa decided to voice her worries. It was a subject she had tried to avoid since this was a time for them to enjoy each other, and she didn't want to dampen the mood. But she couldn't hold it back any longer.
She was currently nestled in Sandor's lap, with only the furs pulled up around their waists. His back was leaning against the wall that the bed was pushed up to, and his arms encircled Sansa. His fingers trailed gently up and down her spine, and Sansa had been leaning forward, resting her head just under his chin, their chests pressed together. Now she pushed herself up, placing her hands where her head had been. "Sandor?" she began quietly. His eyes were closed, and remained so as he answered, "Yes, little bird?" Sansa idly traced a pattern through the hair on his chest. "Do you…do you think King Joffrey will try to find us? Surely they have discovered the queen's body by now."
Sandor opened his eyes at that and studied her face. "It's possible," he answered. "I do not know what information the queen might have shared with her son, but I think it's safe to assume that Joffrey will be scourging the land, looking for his mother's murderer." Sansa shivered, remembering her dark days at the castle, haunted and fearful that at any moment she could be beaten and humiliated. Joffrey's poisonous smile and the evil in his green eyes were nightmares that had yet to leave her mind.
Her husband sensed her unease, and he ran his large hands up and down her arms and back soothingly. "Don't worry, little bird. I won't let any harm come to you." No one will ever hurt you again, or I'll kill them. It was the first promise he had ever made to her, back when they were just strangers. The thought comforted her, but she still couldn't help bite her lip in worry. "What if he finds us? What if he sends so many soldiers you can't fight them all?" Sandor's relaxed expression grew serious, and he tightened his hold on her. "If we have to leave the forest, we will," he rasped. "I will do whatever it takes to protect you. Do you trust me?" Sansa met his eyes and nodded. "Of course I do, my love. I only worry for your safety."
He pulled her back to his chest, surrounding her fully with his arms. "There, there, little bird. I'm an old dog, but I have quite a few tricks left. If we have to leave this cabin, I know plenty of places for us to go where the king can't find us." He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and Sansa smiled, relaxing once more and snuggling against him, putting her worries about the king aside for now.
