The man yanked at the back of her skirts with such a startling violence that she almost succumbed to the force of it.
"We've got to go, bird. Time's upon us."
She only nodded at this, and then dissolved into the darkness of the room; only flits of her were seen on the green shards of the walls where the wildfire had reflected itself upon them, and he watched for her in them. She returned to his side not a few moments later with her thickest woollen coat, two worn dresses and some jewels in her milky arms.
"And what do you expect your gems will do, girl, lighten the load?" He laughed raspingly, his tone cutting into her like a knife.
"I expect we'll need to fund our travels, I was thinking we could sell these on the road." Her voice ever inquisitive with the need for his approval and for not to seem always like a stupid little bird. The way she always was to him, she assumed.
He was taken aback slightly by her thinking. "Aye, that'll do well for us to sell. Although I still have my winnings from your father's tourney a few months back." He did not mean for her to sell her valuables. But then again, they would just be looted out if they stayed here, better to put them to good use.
Sansa frowned once more at that comment. At the word father. That was back when I really was stupid. Oh, father, I am sorry.
She looked for the doll she had thrown onto the bed in fright, just after she realised that none other than the Hound was sitting on her clothing trunk, a blind drunkenness surrounding him and humming slightly to his own discarded tune of grunting and groaning and picked it up and held it tight, mindlessly apologising to it. She thought back again to when her father had went all the way into the village to have this doll hand made for her, for his daughter, and she threw it back in his face. And all because she lied for Joffrey. All for a fool's idea of sorry, sickening love. For nothing. And now even Lady was not here, for her. For her selfishness. Not even Arya…
Now she loved the doll like nothing more, a memory of him.
She blinked away the wateriness threatening to spill from her sleep depraved eyes and looked up at him. "You were very brave that day, and you will be brave tonight, as you have been. And you will protect me from harm."
"I won't let anybody touch any one of those copper hairs on your sodden head, little bird." He looked at her with some distorted determination. It crossed with anger, but not untoward her, she knew. "Now, we have to leave."