The Hound

Sandor Clegane didn't look back once as he urged Stranger forward, leaving the Blackwater far behind him and the Little Bird, who rested ahead of him in the saddle. Leaving behind its fires, its terror and smoke, the pair was fleeing through the wilderness, trying to get somewhere else, anywhere else. With so much wine coursing through his veins he knew he wasn't going to be doing any long-term planning tonight. It was all he could do to focus on getting as far away from the capitol as possible.

The two of them had been gone for perhaps two hours, maybe three. It was so much a rush of fear and confusion that Sandor couldn't tell how much time had passed. Not enough.That, at least, he knew.

The Little Bird clung to him tightly, silent as the forest about them, a blank expression upon her face. She had initially been as fearful as he still was, but the fright had gone from her eyes a short while ago. If anything, she was beginning to look drowsy. Her eyelids were drooping slightly, her head slowly drifting forward. She buried her face then in his chest then, closing her eyes and yawing lightly. When she began to slip to the right, he put one arm around her, making sure to keep the other firmly on the reins as Stranger continued at top speed. How she could sleep at a time like this, Sandor couldn't say, but it felt good to hold her there.

They pressed on.

Night slowly gave way to dawn, and soon dawn turned down day. Stranger had started to complain of their pace a little while ago, and by midmorning Sandor decided that with the Little bird now stirring it was time to rest for a short while. He knew that they couldn't stay anywhere long, but nor could he stay awake forever. And on top of it the wine from last night was beginning to call something awful for release out the other way.

After a few minutes he found a small clearing with a log to sit on and dismounted carefully, helping the waking Little Bird to do so before setting her on the log.

"Be back in a moment…" he muttered before going off to relieve him self. This turned out to take a while, he having drunk more that he realized.

When he got back to the little clearing the girl was nowhere to be found. He panicked for a moment before he heard the distinctive sound of running water not far off. He snorted, then laughed to himself quietly. Of course.

When his Little Bird finally returned, having taken even longer than he had to finish her business, she was smoothing out her skirts, looking down, and didn't notice he was there for a moment. When she looked up to see him smiling she blushed. She blushes so prettily. Gods, even embarrassed she's perfect.

"G-good morning, Ser Sandor," she said quietly.

"Good morning, Little Bird. And I'm not a bloody ser. Sleep well?"

"Y-yes." He could tell though that this wasn't so. Her movements betrayed how stiff she was, and a night of riding like that would leave the inexperienced rather sore to boot.

Without further ado he went to Stranger, patted him on the nose, and went to the saddlebags for food. The fare he'd brought was meager, but it would serve for a time. He would need to hunt and set snares if they were to be out in the wild for very long, though, as the food was only enough for a couple of weeks. But that would be later. Now, they simply needed to get moving, and soon.

He handed the Little Bird a piece of bread and some cheese before sitting down on the log to eat for himself. After quickly devouring his own food, he looked to the Bird to find her taking large, ravenous bites, managing to look like a lady even while doing this. He laughed to himself at this, smiling, but she was too intent on her food to notice. Sandor went to his horse then, brought out his wine, and swiftly drained a fair amount of the sour Dornish red he'd brought for the ride.

After petting Stranger's snout a few times he checked the saddlebags to make sure they were ready for departure. They needed to be, and they were.

"Time to get moving, Little Bird," he said, perhaps more gruffly than he intended, for the Bird looked startled. She composed herself though and then simply nodded, walking rather stiffly to Sandor's giant warhorse, seemingly without fear. He helped her onto the saddle before mounting up himself.

The Bird

Sansa Stark did not want to spend more time on the horse. Her body ached all over, and a night of poor sleep and little food made her feel rather ill. But she understood all too well just what would happen if they were caught, and shuddered to wonder at what more even might be waiting for them that she couldn't think of. So, she steeled herself, and climbed onto the mighty black stallion without complaint. Sandor climbed on behind her, putting one arm around her middle and taking the reins with the other. After a moment they were off.

She had no idea where they were going. She remembered that they'd gone out of the northward gates of King's Landing, but beyond that she knew not. After giving it some consideration, she decided that Riverrun, where her grandfather and uncle lived, was most likely, and that the Eyrie where aunt Lysa lived might be possible. So she decided to ask.

"Sandor?"

"Hmm?" he grunted.

"Where is it we're going?"

He said nothing. After a distressingly long while he said "to Riverrun. To your mother."

Sansa couldn't have felt happier to have been enduring the ride.

Mother! She was going to see her mother again! She could have cried for joy. She hadn't known her mother would be there. My brother might be there too! Oh Robb!

A warm and wonderful feeling coursed through her then. It had been a very long time since she'd felt any kind of real hope, but now, she felt nothing but.