CHAPTER 2

Sansa tried not to let tears fall from her eyes as the Hound roughly sat her on the back of Stranger's saddle. She tried to situate herself so that she was sitting sidesaddle-like a lady, but the Hound put one big metal paw on her leg.

"Ride that way and you'll fall off, girl." She looked at him with big, scared, blue eyes and he coughed and removed his hand. "I don't have time to keep picking little birds up off the ground," he added as he swung up into the saddle in front off her. Sansa flushed, remembering the time he had saved her, surely that was what he was referring to. Did he regret rescuing her from the rapers?

The Hound gently tapped the horse's sides and Stranger broke into a run, fleeing the stables. Alarmed, Sansa threw her arms around the dog's massive, iron torso before she fell.

He felt her arms around him and suppressed every thought, shaking his head slightly to clear it. Damn the girl, he thought to himself. Damn her for saying yes and coming with me. He remembered his hand on her thigh just moments ago and swore. A fucking child, what was wrong with him?

Stranger raced through the burning city at a dizzying speed, and Sansa closed her eyes and leaned her head against the Hound's back to regain her equilibrium. He felt her there, touching him, and he cursed the armor between them before he cursed himself for thinking it.

Before long, they had passed through the city gates and were on the King's road. The horse veered off the heavily-trodden road, favoring the forest. They raced through the trees and underbrush, sticks and leaves hitting them as they tore through the woods. A low hanging branch caught Sansa's cheek once, and she winced slightly, putting a hand to her face and feeling blood. They did not stop for hours, and when they did Stranger was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and breathing hard.

"There," the Hound said, the first time either of them had spoken since leaving the city. "That put a good distance between us and the fucking Red Keep."

The Hound lifted the girl to the ground but let go immediately, turning away. He knew he frightened her. She walked over to Stranger's neck and tentatively stroked it. The horse whirled its head around to bite her, but the Hound's hand grabbed her and yanked her back before he could.

"Are you mad, girl?" He fumed. "Don't go near that horse again. The fucker will bite you in half." Sansa nodded, and her eyes were full of fear. Fear of him, fear of the horse, he didn't know, probably both.

"I'm sorry, Ser," she said, but her voice was faint. The Hound blanched. He was about to yell at her to not call him Ser, but she collapsed, hardly giving him time to catch her before she hit the ground.

The damned girl had passed out, he thought to himself. She weighed nothing, and he gently put her in some soft grass. He saw the cut on her face and swore. When had that happened? What had he done, bringing her out here? She's too fucking weak, he thought miserably.

He fell asleep to the sound of her steady breaths, barely a whisper in the night. In his dreams were bright blue eyes; staring at him with an expression he couldn't place. Trust? Couldn't be. He touched a hand cautiously to red hair; red like fire, though he wasn't afraid. Full lips parted slightly, and his breath caught. Out of the lips, came a piercing scream. The Hound jolted awake, his hand already at his sword. The girl was shaking next to him, her eyes still closed.

The Hound shook her shoulders until her eyes popped open with the look of a panicking animal.

"Girl, girl!" He said until her eyes focused on his scarred face and her shoulders slumped, though her body was still racked with shaking. Through the thin fabric of her dress, the Hound could feel that her skin was icy. Tears spilled from the bright blue eyes, bright even in the darkness, and the Hound sighed.

"What were you thinking of?" He asked gruffly and Sansa bit her lip. The sight made the Hound repress his need to touch her face, to stroke her hair as he'd dreamed. He cursed himself, but did not let go of her shoulders.

"My father," she sniffed, "and…Joffrey. The Queen. Ilyn Payne."

"Fuck Joffrey. Fuck the Queen. They can't hurt you now. You're safe, little bird."

Without entirely meaning to, Sansa curled herself into the Hound's side. He was warm, like a dog, she thought. She was too tired to concern herself with formalities and what was proper, and he was kind to her; as kind as he could be.

The Hound looked at the girl curled up against him in disbelief. He did not fool himself into thinking she somehow cared for him. Even still, he put one heavy arm around her, to make her feel safe and warm from her nightmares.

"Why did you save me?" Sansa asked sleepily after a long silence. She wasn't even sure if the Hound was still awake.

"What?" he asked groggily, his eyes closed.

"In Kings Landing," she clarified.

"It was my job," he answered tersely. Sansa closed her eyes and sighed, almost silently, but the Hound heard.

"Of course," she breathed, trying to pull out from beneath his arm. He didn't budge.

"It's not my job now, girl," he said, his eyes now open, the implications of his words weighing heavily in the air.

"Then why?" Sansa whispered. Silence permeated the air, and after a while, the Hound shut his eyes once more and mumbled gruffly,

"Go to sleep, little bird."

"My name is Sansa," she replied quietly.