Chapter 4, Famous scars

Sansa had felt very much clean those past two days, even though they were travelling through the thick untamed woods. They often saw people past them with old farm carts with families; they would likely be headed towards the safety of King landing because of the war. Though food was scarce, and Sansa knew what it was like in Kings landing, and how despite people were for any scraps to fill their empty stomachs. Had they not heard the news of the battle on Blackwater? Perhaps it was safe there, and the war was over. Sansa wasn't sure. Kings landing is not a safe place to live in if there were battles occurring on their front door. Yet people still made their way forth. But if the war still continues, people would still head for the gates. So it wasn't over, Sansa concluded, though she could not be sure. The Hound had not permitted her to engage contact with anyone that passed, he told her to 'keep your head down under the cloak, don't speak. Anyone asks I'm your father. Your name is Lys Waters, you're a bastard'. Sansa did not like being called a bastard. That was not her name, she was a Stark of Winterfell, and their sigil is a Direwolf. But if they were spotted by anyone or by the gold cloaks and they told them her false name, a bastard name, one that it un-honorable even for a false name, suspicion would be drawn off them. Sandor had concealed his burnt face with mud, in case they were seen up close. He would just appear dirty, and not be recognized for his famous monstrous burnt face. The mud did however wear off after a time, though it hid between the cracks of his scars, so it still took effect. They were much closer to Acorn hall. About an hour's ride Sandor Clegane had told her.

They rode along is silence, this had been there third day since Sansa had last bathed, though she wasn't complaining, she still felt clean. Sansa wore her green gown the queen had given her; she didn't take any mind if it frayed.

It was mid-day and the sun was warm on her back, though it was a cold day. She liked this weather. There were grey cloud patches in the sky, but the sun open to view. Sansa craved news of Kings landing. She hoped Joffrey and the queen were dead. All of them, every single Lannister, even Tyrion, the imp, who had shown nothing but kindness. Rage was quickly filling her mind; she could not control herself from her anger inside. Her bruises Joffrey had commanded to be inflicted on her had healed now, though once she reached Riverrun and she told mother what he did to her, he better pray to the gods that he is truly dead. Sansa remembered how much she loved him, how handsome he once seemed. Though now and soon after his charms had died, and his face was ugly the moment she watched her father's head was chopped off in front of her. He was always ugly, a voice told her. You were just too stupid to see it, the voice said insulting her. Quiet! She told herself. Seven hells I'm going mad. She remembered the tales old Nan would tell to her and her siblings, all tucked in a warm bed under soft fur. The mad king Aerys had burnt her grandfather and her uncle alive by wildfire. It was said that the king was mad with burning people, and that before he died he believed that he would be reborn as a dragon. Sansa had immediately felt sorrow for the poor iron chair. It had held a mad king, a drunken king, and now a cruel king. She almost felt sorry for leaving it behind. Only she was comforted by knowing there was a chance a new king would sit upon the iron throne. She did not know what kind of king Stannis Baratheon was, though she knew he would make a much better king then the last three. And if not, she would soon be in the safety of her mother's arms, so none of it mattered.

"We're passing by Acorn hall at an Inn, cover yourself", The Hound rasped. Sansa huddled her face deeply into her hooded cloak, and tried to ensconce her hair over her prominent blue eyes. The road was dry, and shadowed out by the high ash thunderheads. It felt as if it were going to rain, even though there was a radiant bright light in the sky of sun peeking luminously through the clouds.

They un-mounted from the dark stallion and crept their way into the loud and crowded alehouse inn. Men with bushy bears sat languidly at the feeble old tables. The alehouse manager smacked drinks around, carelessly spilling drinks over tables and he walked by. The alehouse was dim and gloomy, as there were only two windows in the house, and only one of them was opened. She walked closely behind The Hound, keeping her hands up near her face, to try and pinch in the hood. Sansa peeked her head over her shoulder to see a few scruffy men staring at her. Sansa gasped and bumped into the back of Sandor. He spared a quick glimpse behind him, and then turned his head back to the front. She gently grasped her hand on the back of Sandor's dark mail outfit, and looked around the room anxiously. They won't come near me Sansa assured herself, they would be frightened of The Hound. Sandor sat himself down casually at the tending bench, and ordered a cup of wine. He skulled it down carelessly, and asked of another. The alehouse tender stared at him suspiciously, until Sandor pulled out a coin. The ale tender willingly poured another drink, he had motioned for Sansa if she wanted one, but she shook her head to decline.

"I don't think..." Sansa began to say. She didn't want to be pushy, but she could not afford for The Hound to be drunk. Sandor motioned the alehouse tender for another cup, he poured Sansa a drink. "N-no thank you" Sansa said, slightly pushing the mug away.

"Drink" The Hound said, and Sansa took a sip.

"Don't worry yourself, won't have any more" The Hound chuckled deeply "Or might do"
Sansa sat quietly sipping at her wine. Gods we need to leave.

"You're The Hound aren't ya?" Some said. Sansa looked over slightly beside Sandor to see four men crowded around him. Sandor ignored them and drank his wine.

"I hear you fucked over the king" another said.

"Might have" Sandor said, with a big grin on her face. One of them laughed. Sansa pulled back the slightest amount of her hood to see that the men were actually knights; they were united with the house Lannister.

"There's a fine price for your head" A tall one said

"If you can get it off, the reward is all yours" Sandor snapped.

"Ours" Another corrected.

"We'll sort it out after..." Another one disputed.

"No now!" One urged insistently.

"You sound like a bunch of old bickering men" The Hound interrupted

"We'll have ya head, dog".

"That's right" One of them agreed. May the gods shed light on their journey through death.

"O's this?" One of them poked their head around Sandor, to look over at Sansa. She flinched and quickly wrapped her face in the hood. "Aye, look at this one!" One called out. They began to walk over to her, but Sandor Clegane held out his arm. He stood up slowly out of the old stool, and un-sheathed his sword, grasping tightly of the hilt of the sword as he pointed it fiercely at one of the knights chest.

"We're having your head on a spike!" the one who had the sword pointed at him threatened.

"Alright... No heads aye? We go no word of this, what do you say?" A younger one reasoned.

"I heard the bounty is off The Hounds head" The Alehouse manager leaned casually on the counter, and spun the mug in his hand around in circles. "I heard the queen herself wanted him to be free from his loyal service. Word is that the bounty is on the mountain that rides, hmmm Gregor" The alehouse man finished.

"That so...?" An older one said, he seemed convinced. "Seems there's no need for ya head after all". They paid the alehouse manager for the drinks, and left.

"Is all that you said true?" Sansa asked surprised.
"Ha! Not a word. This is damn near Riverrun, Lannister men have no means to be here, they burn as they go, and best they leave. Yeah I hear things as a tender. I know of politics of the throne. I have a room, two straw beds, and good for a silver coin for two. I won't be saying nothin' god's truth." He said "I had a daughter like you once, Eysha her name was, hair of fire, like you. Cut down by that other Clegane, offer's there if you want it" Sansa stared eagerly at Sandor. She would just adore a bed for a night.

"I'll cut off your balls old man if you say a fuckin' word" The Hound threatened.

"On my dead daughter's life Eysha, I won't say a thing".