When nightfall finally came, Sansa couldn't shut her eyes for a moment on her violent, bouncing ride. Sandor lead them out to a hilly plain where moonlight began to shine across the green. Pulling the reins back, Sandor slowed down the pace of the horse and brought them to a gentle walk through the grass.

Yawning through her hood, "Where are we?" Sandor spoke gently to her ear, "We've been riding for two nights, we're a bit away from King's Landing."

"And where are we going?" Sansa asked.

The Hound answered, "I told you I'd take you home, that's where we're going."

"What do you think is going to happen back at King's Landing." Sansa asked, almost cheered in her voice.

"Don't know, when I left, Stannis' troops already made it past the shoreline and through the wall."

Sansa's spirits lowered when she reminded herself of the few she cared for in King's Landing, "Shae, my handmaiden... I hope she's all right."

"If she's spirited as I think she is, she'll be fine."

"And Tyrion, I hope he'll be safe..."

Sandor chuckled before he answered comfortingly, "The imp makes up his brawn with his brains, he can handle himself, I'm sure."

Warmed by Sandor's good mood, Sansa reminded him, "I never got to say thank you, Sandor. For saving my life... Again."

Sandor pulled down her hood and kissed the hair on her scalp, "You'll never have to, little bird..."

Blushing from his tenderness, Sansa placed her hands overtop of his and smiled brightly, "What's that over there?" She spotted a large cabin in the middle of the plain, grey smoke began puffing out of its long chimney.

Nudging the horse into a trot, Sandor spoke again, "Our checkpoint."

Sandor brought them to a wooden inn in the field, he dismounted the horse and helped Sansa out of the saddle and into the mud.

He tied the horse to a beam outside the wooden tavern and stepped through the wooden door, Sansa closely followed.

Inside was a full bar and a man wiping down a table, when he glanced up to see the Hound, the innkeeper smiled through what teeth he had left, "Need a room?"

Sandor began, "For the night, we'll be gone in the morning." The old man rested the cloth on the table and nodded his head, "Yes yes, that'll be five stags, if you will."

Sansa followed Sandor to the old man as he paid the gold from his small satchel, "Follow me, i'll lead you to your room." The old man held the door open for the two, Sandor briskly walked inside, Sansa paused before the old man at the door and thanked him with a smile.

Shutting the door behind them Sandor sat on the bed and rested his aching bones, removing his armor from his body and casting his gloves to the floor and removing his shoulder pads with his fingers.

As Sansa glanced about the room, she noticed a bed, a table, and an aged wardrobe. She placed her eyes over to Sandor and sat down next to him, noticing all his armor removed from his body. He lay back against the bed and let out a rattled groan of release, Sansa lay on her side next to him and slung her arm across his chest.

"You're worn to the bone, Sandor, rest."

Glancing back to her, he replied, "That doesn't sound that bad of an idea."

He took in her hand gently and kissed it, Sansa felt his warm breath against her fingertips. Gasping from the shivering sensation, Sansa spoke, "You're cold."

"I'm all right." He patted her hand lightly, "Get some sleep, you've hardly slept."

She nodded her head and removed her cloak, stepping up from the bed and placing it on the foot of the bed. "Will you be sharing the bed with me tonight?"

"Only if you want me to, if not i'll sleep soundly on the chair."

Sansa studied him and responded doubtful, "You can't just sleep in the chair."

"I can sleep on the floor like a babe."

She laughed to him and answered happily, "You don't have to sleep on the floor, you can sleep on the bed."

"It wouldn't be right." He answered huskily, "We aren't married, and I'm not planning to bed you for a long time now..."

The redhead took slight offense to that, the way he spoke seemed almost sarcastic to her as she twiddled her fingers.

Sandor turned to her and realized his recoiled words, "It's not that I don't want to, Sansa," He spoke her name, one of the few times he's done that. "It just wouldn't be... appropriate, 'specially not for a lady."

The man may be a killer, a drunk at times, a bloodthirsty dog with a sword but Sandor still had a sense of moral. Sansa was a lady, still pure and so innocent, in a way it made him drawn to her even further. But he knew deep down, that if he took her right now he would never forgive himself for the rest of his being.

"Sandor, you can sleep with me... We just won't sleep together." She said, resting herself on the other side of the large bed. Sandor glanced over to her, watching her crawl underneath the thick blanket.

When she comfortably made herself under the covers, Sandor followed, wrapping himself inside the blanket and shutting his eyes tightly.

To Sansa's surprise, she felt the warm arm of Sandor cross her chest, pulling her closer to his side. She smiled at the warm touch of their two bodies bordering each other, the bend in his knees matched perfectly into the crook of hers as they warmed each other with their heat.

"This is nice," Sansa added, "It's like spoons..." Her hands folded delicately into his, bringing them to her face and breathing lightly on them as she drifted off into a sleep.

Morning came around and Sandor found his arms wrapped around Sansa's torso and her breath kissing his fingertips.

He gently removed his hand out of her grasp and removed himself off of the delicate maiden's body. He stepped off the bed and stretched out his arms before scratching his ragged beard and glancing down at his armor on the floor.

After minutes of fidgeting with the laces on his metal plates, Sandor's armor was finally completed. He quietly stepped through the room and out the door, closing it silently behind him.

After moving himself to the main hall, Sandor noticed there were more people here than before. Some tables were full with small folk men in ragged clothing, all talking amongst themselves.

Sandor made his way over to the barstools and sat himself down in a chair, watching the old bartender approach him hastily with a silver pitcher in his hand, "I remember you, you're the man who came in last night, with the redhead, right?"

He didn't answer that.

"Well what can I get 'ya?"

"Anything cheap."

The bartender laughed as he began pouring a dark brown liquid into a wooden mug, "Where are you two headed?"

He didn't answer that either.

"Where have you been?" The old bartender asked, sliding Sandor his full mug.

"None of your business, barty." Sandor barked in answer.

The old man nodded his head and raised his eyebrows, "All right, forget I asked. It's just you two don't look like you're from 'round here, I ain't seeing any sigils on your shoulders."

Sandor ignored that as well and took a long swig from him ale, it sickened his tongue when he tasted its bitter flavor. The old man continued further, "You lookin' to go north?"

"I'm lookin' to shut your fucking trap." He growled, warning the old bartender. Instead of fear, the man simply smiled and spoke, "All right then, i'll leave you be."

The bartender turned back to the two men at the other point of the bar and began talking to them instead, all men began flashing short glances back to Sandor and rough snickers.

Ignoring their giggles, Sandor took another gulp from his mug, glancing about the room and its surroundings. One of the men beckoned to him, "You're the bloody Hound aren't ya? And that redhead girl must be the Stark daughter from King's Landing."

Taking a quick glance back to the ginger across from him, Sandor growled, "Does it matter?"

"Ain't you supposed to be in the castle, then?"

"I'm looking to go north, old man." Sandor called to the bartender, finishing up his ale and ignoring the freckled face.

The bartender nodded his head and responded lightly, "Well then you're talking to the right people," he made a gesture following the three men next to him. "This is Hal, and that freckled shit you see is Neeson."

Hal gave him a sarcastic grin and returned, "How north you lookin' to go?"

Sandor shot a wicked glance back to the man and answered sharply, "Doesn't matter."

"There's a ship that's waitin' for us on a dock in Rosby, it's sailing today for Greywater Watch." The dark blonde scratched the long stubbles on his chin, "If you're looking to tag along, just say so."

"Not enough gold." Sandor said, near sullenly.

"No charge," Hal replied, "A pair of friends were going to sail with us, but they didn't make it past King's Landing. Had a cabin reserved for them, you and your redhead are welcome to it."

Neeson shot his eyes towards him and whispered, "You fucking daft, Hal? That's the Hound! He's a bloody killer!"

"And that is," Hal continued, ignoring him, "You're to stay out of sights, and if you are, you're going to have fake aliases. I don't need no soldiers coming up from King's Landing asking if we're harboring two runaways from the palace. Do we have a deal?"

"Sansa, little bird it's time to wake up."

Shaking Sansa's thin shoulder lightly, he watched her flip over and flutter her lids open as she whispered quietly with a smile, "Good morning."

"Morning," He muttered in return, "Get up, I'm taking you to Winterfell."

Sansa's eyes bolted open in regards to Sandor's words, she gasped and sprung to a sitting position as she cried happily, "R-Really?!"

Feeling pleased by Sansa's sudden smile, Sandor retorted contently, "Yes, but we have to leave now. Put your cloak on, keep the hood up."

As happy as she was, his words were cautious towards Sansa, only making her abruptly uneasy, "All right..."

Nodding her head, her took her small face in her hands and kissed her smooth forehead. "I hope you aren't seasick, we're going on a ship."

"A ship? I've never been on a ship before..."

"It's not so bad. There's a port about five miles from here, and we're going to have some company."

"Company?"

Sandor raised her eyebrow and answered regrettably, "Yeah, not exactly a welcoming party but they have a ship."

Her eyes worried when she returned to him, "Our plan is to get on a ship and go to Winterfell?"

"It's faster than a horse, but we have to leave now." Moving his hands to her head, he gently pulled up her hood to her scalp and glanced across her pink smile, "You're beautiful, you know that?"

Sansa's smile broadened across her rosy cheeks, "Thank you." She said warmly, resting a sweet kiss across his cheek and returning her beaming eyes to his.

From behind them, a loud grunt was heard, as if someone was obnoxiously clearing his throat. The lovers turned to the figure and noticed a short, ginger man leaning against the doorway with a smirk on his lips, "Don't mean to interrupt nothing, but we've got to get goin' now."