This was originally going to be a one-shot, but I decided to make it longer.
I wanted to give Sandor a chance at having some magical qualities. You should be able to pick out some fairytale inspirations :) Hope you enjoy!
The branches clawed at Sansa's arms as she pushed through the tangled growth of bushes and trees of the Dark Forest. Tears stained her dirty cheeks as she looked about herself wildly, searching for a place to run to. A cold wind blew, stirring the dead rotting leaves around her ankles, and Sansa stared into the darkness that was creeping down from the sky, and she knew she was lost.
Pausing to catch her breath, Sansa ran her trembling hands up and down her arms, trying to provide some warmth. She wasn't dressed for such weather. The sleeves of her simple woolen dress were thin, and now they were ripped from running through the woods. A thorn bush had caught hold of her skirt earlier and ripped through the material. A sob escaped her mouth as she took in her surroundings.
She had no money, nothing of value on her person. The knight had told her to run away, and never come back, or it would be her death. The irony was that it seemed she would die anyways.
A bat screeched overhead, and Sansa ducked, frightened. She began to walk again, footsore that she was. She had no idea how long she had been wandering in the forest; hours, most likely. Surely there had to cottage or some shack nearby. Someplace in which she could find shelter.
The forest became filled with the sounds of twilight: creatures hooted and called to each other, obscured from Sansa's sight. She shivered, and tried not to think of the old stories she had heard about monsters, and trees with eyes and mouths full of teeth. They were just tall tales, meant scare children into obeying and being good, but now, all alone in this desolate wood…Sansa's imagination began to run away with her. She thought she saw eyes peering at her through the trees, and she backed away into a tall oak, bumping against the bark. The movement disturbed a flock of bats, which began to swirl around her and screech.
Sansa cried out, trying to shield herself with her arms, and ran. She pushed through the foliage, desperate to find an escape.
Finding herself in a small clearing, Sansa turned around to glance where she had just run from, fearful the bats had followed her. The forest suddenly became quieter, as if the animals were holding their breaths. Crickets chirped in a futile attempt to break the silence. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she slowly backed away towards a thick clump of bushes.
Something like hot air brushed against the back of her head, and Sansa froze. It was heavy breathing, with a low snarl to it. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms rose, and she looked over her shoulder.
Gleaming slate-grey eyes stared at her, and the faint outline of a snout protruded from the darkness. Her mouth dropped open, and she began to walk away, unable to run or tear her eyes away from the large bulk. It followed her, the black mass taking shape. It was a giant dog, almost wolf-like. It had pitch-dark hair, bristled, and its jaws opened slightly, giving her a look at its powerful teeth. It was about the size of a bear, and muscular beneath the fur.
Sansa gave a muffled cry as she tripped over a tree root, and shuffled backwards on her hands as the dog moved closer. She was stopped at the trunk of a tree, and with a chill she realized she was trapped, pinned between the tree and this monster. The dog came closer until its massive face was near her own, the hot breath fanning her face. Sansa stared back, frozen in terror.
Then it spoke.
"What do we have here?" The voice was throaty and deep, with a harsh scraping undertone. Sansa blinked in surprise and confusion, still fearful as the dog's eyes studied her. "What's a pretty thing like you doing in these woods? Not that I'm complaining." The right side of the dog's mouth pulled up, like a smirk. He was so close Sansa could see a jagged scar peering through the thick fur by his right eye, and the ear above it was chewed and gnarled.
He looked like he was expecting her to say something. "P-please," she whispered. "Don't…don't…eat…me." She had curled up into a ball at the base of the tree, shaking. "Eat you?" the dog rasped, cocking its head. "You look too skinny and bony to be worth a meal. Still…" he trailed off and gave a rumbling chuckle. "You might be tender and sweet." Sansa gulped as fresh tears threatened to escape her eyes. Had she run from one death only to die at the hands of this beast?
The dog had been looking down at her, he was so large, and suddenly he thrust his nose into her hair and neck, sniffing. Sansa gasped, petrified, certain he was going to bite her. Instead she heard the rumbling again. "You do smell good, girl," the dog growled softly. He leaned back again, and he looked like he wanted to swallow her whole.
"I'll ask again: what are you doing in these woods? They belong to me, you know." Sansa swallowed. "I-I'm lost. I was running away. Please…let me go." The dog gave a snort. "And what were you running away from? Was your needlework crooked?" He chuckled again, sitting back on his haunches. He was so tall he still towered over Sansa's trembling form. "I was running from the Queen," she whispered. "She wanted to kill me." The dog's ears perked and he studied her severely. "The Queen, huh?" Sansa nodded. Maybe if she kept talking the dog would forget about eating her. "Yes. She had one of the knights take me out to pick flowers, then…he pulled a knife out, and said he had to kill me…but he couldn't do it, and he told me the Queen had ordered him to, and he told me to run away and never come back." She shuddered, remembering the crazed look in the knight's eyes as he had battled between letting her go and following out his orders. "I ran and ran, but now…I don't know where I am." Her bottom lip quivered.
The dog was silent for a moment. "Why would the Queen want you dead? You're just a girl." "I don't know. The knight said something about her being jealous." The dog blinked and cocked his head again. "Tell me, girl…what is your name?" "Sansa. Sansa Stark." The dog gave a sort of harrumph. "I thought so. You're the princess." "Or was," Sansa added tearfully. "It makes sense now." The dog leered at her. "What I heard was true. You are pretty. No wonder the Queen was jealous; she's drying up and you're young and fresh."
Things seemed to be turning in her favor, so Sansa dared to venture a request. "Please…do you know where I can stay the night? I'm sorry to trespass in your woods; I didn't know." The dog peered at her. "Didn't know?" he barked. "You don't know who I am?" Puzzled, Sansa shook her head. "Your nurse never told you stories about these woods?" "She did, but- "How about the story of the Hound?" Sansa's brow furrowed, then a shock ran through her. The Hound! Of course! She remembered now. The myth was that some kind of ferocious dog-beast ruled the woods and could even command other animals, and sometimes made off with children if they wandered away too far.
"You're…the Hound?" she whispered, fresh fear pouring through her veins. Now she was truly dead. The dog rumbled again and uttered a short, gruff laugh. "In the flesh. Honored to meet you, Princess." He stood and moved back a bit. "Come now." Sansa stared at him incredulously. "Where?" "You asked for shelter, did you not?" the Hound's gaze seared into her. Sansa thought he still looked hungry. "Yes, but…you aren't going to eat me?" she asked meekly. The Hound snorted and rolled his eyes. "No, of course not. I don't eat children. Is that what they are saying now?" He shook his big shaggy head. "Figures they wouldn't tell the real story. Come along, girl. Or do you want to stay here and freeze? Maybe another animal will find you and decide to sink its teeth into you." At that remark, Sansa stood up hastily, hugging herself and stepped towards the dog shyly. Even though she was now on her feet, the dog was still massive; his shoulder was level her own!
"That's the way." The dog eyed her up and down, then slowly walked around her, like he was inspecting her for something. Sansa cringed, feeling very small. "You're like a lost little bird, fallen out of its nest," the dog suddenly breathed into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine that wasn't altogether unpleasant. The dog simply chuckled at her reaction and began to walk forward, Sansa timidly following him.
She followed him through the dark, deeper and deeper into the forest, down paths she never would have discovered on her own. He didn't speak to her again, but every once in a while he would glance back at her. Sansa began to wonder if he really wasn't going to eat her. He had mentioned shelter, but what did that mean? Was he leading her to some cave? Sansa felt tears prick her eyes again, a mixture of exhaustion, sadness, and hopelessness.
They came upon a clearing quite suddenly, and Sansa almost ran into the back of the dog. Thick trees surrounded the clearing, and in the middle was a rough log cabin. Smoke poured out of the chimney, and the distant glow of fire peeked through the windows. A collection of firewood was stacked neatly near the door, with an axe at the ready, and a makeshift clothesline was strung from the cabin to a tree, a few articles of clothing hanging from it.
Sansa was puzzled. Whose house was this? Was the Hound friends with some hermit?
The Hound led her up to the front door. "Go on in," he said. Sansa looked at the door then at him, perplexed. "Who lives here?" she asked. "I do," said the Hound, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But…" Sansa couldn't grasp how a giant dog would live in a cabin. It didn't make sense! What was she missing?
The Hound snorted. "Just go inside. You'll find out later. I was hunting when I found you stumbling around, so I'm going back into the woods. I won't be gone long." Impatient with her hesitance to go inside, he raised a large paw and pushed on the door until it swung open. "Go in," he commanded. Afraid of angering him, Sansa entered the warm cabin, gazing about her with wide eyes.
A cozy fire was burning cheerfully in the hearth, with a collection of pots and hunting paraphernalia scattered around it. A large bear pelt was thrown on the floor as a rug, and a rough-hewn table and two chairs sat in the corner near the hearth. On the other side of the cabin was a large bed, covered with an assortment of thick furs. The place smelled of smoke and pine. Sansa glanced behind her, but the Hound was gone. She shut the door, then walked over to the fireplace and kneeled before it, warming her hands.
When the chill was taken from her bones, Sansa found a pitcher full of clean water and a basin, and she washed her hands and face and neck. She didn't see a comb, so she tried to wrestle with her tangled hair as best she could and ended up throwing it in a loose braid so that it would be wavy later. Then she inspected the shelves and cabinets on the walls. Most of them held knives and arrows and leathers. There was one shelf holding some plates and cups and utensils, and another than held a broken clock. Sansa couldn't understand any of it. What would the Hound want with plates and forks? She didn't see how he would be able to use them. On another shelf she found some well-worn books, which she eagerly explored. One contained some old stories, some of which she had never heard of. One was a book of songs. And the other was in a strange language. She put them back carefully then returned to the fire.
Realizing the Hound might want the basin full of clean water, she took the pitcher and emptied it outside. There was a pump in the yard, and she refilled it, surprised that the pump worked better than the one at the castle.
It was now completely dark outside, and Sansa began to wonder if the Hound was ever coming back. Her stomach grumbled hungrily, and Sansa wondered if there was any food around, but she didn't want to trespass on the Hound's hospitality. He might change his mind and force her back into the forest. She sat on the hearth, knees pulled under her chin, and contemplated what she was going to do with herself, now that she was banished. She would never be able to go back to the castle. Perhaps there was a small village nearby where she would not be recognized, and she could get work as a seamstress. Her septa had always praised her needlework. It was one of the greatest achievements of a lady.
Sansa was suddenly angry. Yes, she was a lady, and knew how to sing and dance and sew, and not much else. She knew nothing useful, like how to find her way out of a forest or build a fire. For the first time, Sansa realized how ill-equipped she really was for anything other than a life of luxury. It was all she had been prepared for, and she bit back the bitter taste of resentment.
The door to the cabin suddenly swung open, and a large man strode inside.
A/N: I pictured the Hound looking like the Grim from the Harry Potter series, only larger...in case anyone was interested :)