Short chapter to start off with. Thanks for reading! Any feedback (preferably constructive) would be great! Also, this is not a Arya x Sandor fic. Just another story that further develops their fucked up platonic relationship.

Arya's eyes slowly opened and a cluster of trees shaded by the orange glow of dusk came into view. A pounding pain at the back of her skull intensified as she noticed the fading sunlight pouring across her face.

She blinked around at her surroundings with her face puckered from the pain in her head. All she could see were trees, bushes, and an obscenely large, armored man sitting on a stone across from her. With her vision finally clear enough to make out the ugly scars that covered half of his face, along with the giant sword he was sharpening with a stone, Arya felt her heart skip into her throat.

Ignoring the sharp pain in her head, she tilted her neck up and stared at the man with an even mix of anger and fear stabbing at her chest. Her panic worsened when she realized a dirty rag was muffling her cries and her arms and legs were bound together by rope.

She twisted and thrashed in an attempt to break her bindings and escape, but he quickly closed the space between them with his long strides and forced her still, pinning her against the ground with little effort.

"Calm the fuck down, girl-" the Hound commanded as he held her against the dirt by her shoulders. "-or I'll knock you outside the head again to shut you up."

She stopped thrashing and glared at the man, her protesting screams subsiding into a hushed growl as he loomed over her with an annoyed snarl pulling at his tense features.

"That's better. Now stay quiet or I'll cut out that shrieking voice of yours." The Hound stood up and went back to where he was resting before.

Arya seethed as she watched the man slump down against a boulder and throw his head back with closed eyes and a nonchalant huff. She bitterly recalled being restrained against the Hound's hulking form as she ran from the the Brotherhood, and vaguely remembered being slumped across the back of a horse.

Looking at the Hound as a darkness settled over the area, Arya attempted to speak as calmly as she could through the gag. Hearing her unintelligible words, he glanced over at her before closing his eyes once more. She tried again, her voice becoming increasingly louder with each sound until he finally stood up and stomped towards her.

"For fuck's sake- will you stop wailing if I take that out of your mouth, girl?" he growled. She nodded her head. "Good." The Hound ripped the fabric from her mouth and she took a deep gulp of fresh air before speaking.

"How long have I been out?"

"A day or two," he said through a yawn. "It would have been shorter if you didn't keep screaming every time you came to."

"What would you do if you woke up on a stranger's horse? Sit back and stare at the trees?" she cocked an eyebrow. The Hound shook his head slightly as he loomed over her.

"I'd hardly call myself a stranger to you, girl."

Arya squirmed under the ropes and shifted her position. "Then untie me."

The Hound gave a low chuckle and walked over to the black horse grazing beside a tree. He reached into the saddle bag strapped around the horse's waste and pulled a hunk of bread out of it with his meaty hand.

"Just because I've been in the same room as you before this doesn't mean I trust you to not run away." he said. He ripped off a small piece of the bread and held it out towards her, jamming the rest of it into his mouth.

"I'm not hungry." she said flatly.

He huffed and clanked towards her once again. The pissed off look on his face, combined with the angry rattling of his armor and clenched fist, made her want to scoot back away from the man. But she stayed still and tried to suppress the hunger she felt gnawing at her stomach.

"I'm not playing games with you, wolf-bitch. You haven't eaten since I snatched you in that forest and they'll want you healthy, so shut up and force this down your throat if you have to." he swallowed the last chunk of bread that he'd stuffed in his mouth, yanked her up into a seated position with one hand, and shoved the bread in front of her face with his other.

"Whose fault is that?" she spat. "You stole me and then kept knocking me out. And I'm all tied up- do you think I've been able to eat?" The aching in her head felt worse when he pulled her up.

"Fine. I'll undo your hands," he leaned down closer to her face, putting only inches between them. "But if you try to do anything else with them, I'll cut them off and feed them to the next cunts we meet."

The Hound's stare bore into Arya and she glared back at him. Yet as she looked into his dark eyes and fumed, she tried to focus her attention more on his scar. The uncharred side of his face showed a subtle yet unnerving resemblance to his older brother. Arya knew both Cleganes were skilled, brutal warriors. She was hesitant to test how quickly the Hound's anger could unfold into cruelty, as she had seen first hand that it didn't take much for the Mountain to torture and kill in ways that would make most men hurl.

"Fine." Arya held out her wrists and he cut through the rope with a quick swipe from the knife around his belt. He handed her the bread and went back to where he was originally sitting.

The stale crust crumbled and coated her dry throat when she gnawed on the bread. Trying to swallow the rest of it without erupting into a fit of coughs, Arya swallowed what little saliva was left in her mouth in an attempt to soothe the burning feeling in her throat. It didn't work.

Something hit her thigh and she looked down to find a half drunken wine skin on the ground beside her. She eagerly picked it up and shoved the tip into her mouth, basking in the cool relief that slid down her throat. Even her head started to feel better.

Once her coughs had subsided, the bread gone and the wine skin emptied, Arya scooted over towards the nearest tree and leaned against it. The Hound had begrudgingly gotten up, tied her wrists back together, and sat back down in his spot before dozing off. Despite being unconscious over the past day or two, Arya felt herself start to succumb to a similar state.

She wanted nothing more than to be wrapped under the bearskins in her bed at Winterfell. This part of Westeros wasn't nearly as cold as the North, but the cool night air occasionally sent a shiver down her spin and the chilly breezes that swept over her were hardly comforting.

She missed her mother, of course, but she knew an army of tens of thousands of loyal men stood between her, Robb, and anyone who wished to harm them. She missed Bran and Rickon, but they were at Winterfell far away from any fighting, and Jon was even farther away than them. There was no doubt that the wall was dangerous, but he was at least protected from the Lannisters there.

As she leaned against the rough bark of the tree, Arya was surprised to find herself missing Sansa more than any of her other siblings. Sansa, as far as she knew, was still in King's Landing at the hands of Joffery and his family. Everyone else in her family was- for the moment- free of them and their lust for power. Even her father, whose embrace she longed to be wrapped in more than anyone else's, was free of them in death.

But as a hawk flew low over their camp and stirred the Hound in his sleep, Arya realized that she was no more free than her sister. The Hound had taken her hostage and was no doubt bringing her back to the Lannisters like the good dog he was.

The noble prick.

She peaked open her eyes and looked over at the man across from her. His beard stayed stiff despite the breeze. His greasy hair, though disheveled as it was, hung against his face with little movement. The smooth skin on his left cheek remained free of a red tinge even with the slight sting that came with the cool air. He looked comfortable, yet still didn't seem content.

The longer she stared at him, the more angered and restless she grew. He was the one thing standing between her and home.