It was not unusual for them to ride in silence, since it was difficult to hear over the horse and the wind. But where it was normally a companionable, friendly quiet, now it was harsh and awkward. When they slowed to a walk at midday to give Stranger a rest, Sansa turned in the saddle and tried to look up at her companion. He kept his eyes on the road ahead of them, ignoring her.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked eventually.

"No."

"It seems like you are."

He snorted.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No."

She scowled up at him and sniffed. "You told me once that you would never lie to me."

"Quit your chirping."

Without responding, she lifted her right leg and swung it carefully over the horse's neck and slid to the ground with a light thump. "HEY!" he yelped, swiping to catch ahold of her.

She didn't run, but she didn't let him catch her either, staying just out of his arm's reach. "I can keep up at this pace," she told him icily.

His arm passed over her head as he grabbed for her again. "Get over here NOW," he growled.

"No," she echoed.

"If I have to get down off this horse to get you back up on it, you're not gonna like that," he warned her.

She shrugged and skirted another grab. "I haven't liked most of my life lately."

He cursed and made a last attempt to swoop her up. "What makes you think I won't just leave you by the side of the road? Ride off and be free of the princess of Winterfell, probably has a price on her head. Leave you to the bandits and the Lions and even the Wolves?"

"I don't think you would do that," she replied, her tone cold but assured. "And I'm not a princess anymore. If I ever was."

He considered riding off, then. Not far, maybe only far enough up the road to make her cry out for him. But looking down at her stony expression, he doubted she might call him back. So instead, he swung down and stomped after her on foot. He was a fast man but the injury to his thigh slowed him some. "Come HERE," he growled again. She evaded him and slid to the other side of the horse.

"What is your damn problem?"

Many cruel answers came to mind then, but Sansa tamped them down. She would not lash out in her anger as he did. "Well?" he demanded as she continued to ignore him.

She raised her chin and walked on.

After many long minutes, she began to outpace him, keeping up with the destrier instead. He allowed it, biding his time. When she looked up to watch a bird alight in a tree overhead, he lunged and caught her arm. "Ow!" she yelped, pulling to free herself.

He tapped Stranger to stop him and grabbed the girl around the waist to hoist her up. She shrieked and struggled and slid back to the ground, but he caught his fingers in the lacings of her bodice and pulled her toward him. "What?!" he yelled down at her. "What is wrong with you? You were fine one moment and the next your claws are out."

"You lied to me," she squeaked, still fighting to get free.

"When?"

"You're angry with me!" she spat. "Say it!"

"Well I am NOW!" he roared. "Stop squirming!"

She pulled away again, twisting in his arms, and gave a cry of frustration. Grunting with the effort of keeping her against him, he moved off the road and pushed her against a wide tree trunk, holding her upper arms against the rough bark. Stranger followed lazily, watching the argument with a bored air.

Tears streamed down her face but she never stopped pulling to get away from him. Eventually she realized she was trapped and sobbed, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "I'm sorry, then," she ground out.

"You should be. Girl your age throwing a hissy fit."

She glared at him incredulously. "Not for that!"

"Well then what the hell FOR?" he growled.

He got no answer. She only closed her eyes and pressed her head back against the tree, away from him.

"Talk, damn you!" he shook her. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Or are you just spitting out your sorries like your septa told you to?"

"Yes!"

"Yes WHAT?"

"Yes, I'm spitting out my sorries. That's what I was trained to do when I have done someone a wrong. I was trained to bow and scrape and say the pretty words they taught me."

He shook her again, harder this time, though not hard enough to hurt her. "Haven't you grown out of that? Haven't you seen what all those lessons get you?"

"They've kept me alive!" she growled back at him.

There was nothing he could say to that. He simply glared at her.

She was angrier than she'd ever been, so angry it burned away all the fear. What was wrong with him? "So I'm sorry, for whatever wrong I've done you. From the moment you woke me this morning, you have been snarling or silent, glared at me, and you then you lied! Tell me what I've done and I will atone."

They stood there for long minutes, staring at each other. Finally, Sandor leaned in closer to her, only a hair away. "Did you hear a fucking word I said this morning?"

"I did," she whispered, her breath making his hair sway between them.

"I shouldn't have touched you," he growled softly. "You're meant for a great lord. You were set to marry the fucking prince once, if you remember. But you let me … And you ask why I'm angry with you?"

She shook her head in confusion. "Yes, I let you. I asked it of you. Is that why you're angry? You regret it? You said you … desired me."

"Fuck, girl. Of course I do. That doesn't mean I should take you."

"You already have."

He blinked at her. "I told you, I never kissed you that night. I might have been drunk and scared shitless, but I know that for true. And believe me, I would remember if I'd fucked you."

"You took me," she continued, "from the Vale. You put sweetsleep in my tea and you carried me through the halls and ran."

"All those stories of 'true knights' and you don't see that for a rescue?" he sneered.

"Time and time again you say you're not a knight," she reminded him. "A knight might have made a gallant rescue. But what is it when the Hound is the one who steals a girl in the night?"

"It's still a rescue."

"Why? My family is dead. The Lannisters wish me dead. I have no money, no lands. Why did you come for me?"

"Because I bloody well thought you needed rescuing."

"I have needed rescuing for years! Isn't it a little too late now? I used to be valuable. Now I'm just a brood mare in a woman's body," she spat.

"You're a fucking lady, not a horse!" he gripped her tightly again.

She winced but didn't ask him to stop. "Am I? I thought I was a traitor's daughter, the rebel king's sister. My castle lies in ruins, my people scattered and dead. Petyr intended to reveal me when I married, thought the Vale would raise an army to take back Winterfell. But Winterfell truly belongs to the Lannisters unless they've dissolved my marriage to Tyrion, and they'll take it when they decide they want it. I have no home, no army. My brothers are dead! My sister is dead! My parents are dead! I have nothing! I have no one! But I thought, stupid little bird, that I had YOU!"

She was wailing now, her words sharp and her voice sore. "I thought you would protect me, would keep me. I didn't ask where were going because it didn't matter! You were the last person in the world that cared. And if I was wrong, Sandor Clegane, if you just wanted to .. to … FUCK me, then DO it. You've earned a reward, haven't you? But do it and let me go. I'll fly away and you won't have to worry about the stupid little girl any more. Or sell me back to the Lannisters. They'll forgive you and put my head on a spike next to my father's. What does it matter now?"

He let go of her arms and she turned to run but she couldn't see through her tears and she only made it two strides before he had her again, gently this time. He picked her up in his arms, cradling her head to his neck. Whistling for Stranger to follow him, he picked his way through the woods until he found a shady, sheltered clearing. The snow was nearly gone but he took care to set her down on a patch of dry grass. He knelt before her, letting her fall exhausted against him for a moment before straightening her and holding her tear-streaked face in his hands.

"You DO have me, you daft little bird. And don't you ever think otherwise."

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. "I'm so tired," she whispered.

"Well, we'll rest here for a while. But you're no ruined woman. We'll find someone to give you sanctuary and they'll find a good man for you and he'll protect you," he ground out. "And you'll always have your vicious dog at the door if you need him."

"So tired," she repeated. "So tired of being used. So tired of being afraid. I just want to be loved again."

"Well, you'll find someone who …"

She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. "NO! Just let me go," she begged. "If you're going to sell me, please just let me go. Or kill me, just send my head to the queen. Just let me go."

He slapped her then. It wasn't a hard strike, more like what you'd do to a child's hand who was reaching for a candle. "You listen to me," he growled, "I am not fucking selling you to anyone, least of all that fucking blonde cunt. And don't you ever fucking think about running away from me again like you did today."

The slap had pulled her out of her misery. She cradled the cheek he'd hit and stared at him. There was no reproach, no pleading in her eyes, just hope. "Why did you take me?" she asked again.

"Does it matter?" he ground out. "I took you away."

"In the North," she said, "the wildlings and the clans, when a man takes a woman away, he means to keep her. You took me," she offered and when he didn't reply, she continued, "You took me from Petyr. He would have married me off for my claim, but he would have kept me all the same."

"Petyr Fucking Baelish will never lay another finger on you, especially not his little finger."

"Why did you take me?!" she screamed at him, her voice cracking and breaking, pushing her hands against his chest.

"Because I love you, you stupid little thing!" he roared. "Because even though I could never have you, I'd be damned if I was going to let that shit Littlefinger use you in his schemes. Because I couldn't protect you from the fucking Lannisters and because I fucking love you!"

He glared at her harder than he ever had before, veins sticking out in his face and neck. He wanted to kiss her, to throttle her. He wanted to cradle her and promise that nothing bad would ever happen again and he wanted to strip her naked and do very bad things to her.

Her hands clenched on his chest, grabbing his jerkin and pulling him closer. He resisted, angry that he'd revealed his feelings, angrier still that she had nothing to say. Finally, she nodded and sobbed out a laugh. She tried to say something then, but her voice was a croak. She scowled, frustrated. When her voice simply would not come, she took one of his hands in hers and put it on her cheek, then placed hers on the thick wretched ruined side of his face. She nodded again, looking at him hopefully. They sat together in the darkening woods, sometimes looking at each other, sometimes not. It seemed an eternity later when Sandor muttered, "Your sister's alive."

"What?" her voice had returned after a rest: hoarse from screaming and crying, but it was still the prettiest voice he'd ever heard.

"She was the last time I saw her anyway. Ran off toward a boat headed across the narrow sea with a sword on her hip."

Sansa shook her head. "Arya."

He told her the story then, of how he'd been captured by the Brotherhood and how he, in turn, had captured Arya, and how they'd come to part. When he'd finished, she smiled at him wryly. "I'm not the first Stark daughter you've made off with?" her voice creaked like wood.

It was good to see her smile again. He laughed at her joke and reached forward to touch her hand tentatively. She moved and he pulled his hand back. She caught it before he could move it out of her grasp and wove her fingers into his. "Promise me you'll be here in the morning," he ground out.

"So long as you'll keep me, I'll stay," she whispered back.

"Go to sleep, little bird." He curled himself around her, tucking her back against his chest and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"Sandor?" she murmured.

"Mm?"

"I love you."

He grunted noncommittally and she squeezed his hand on her arm. "I wept when they told me you'd been killed."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. You were very good to me. Well, you were gentle. And you came for me and stole me away, just like a Wildling. And I really do love you, very much."

"Mm."

As she drifted off to sleep, some long-forgotten memory slid into her thoughts. King Robert, condemning Lady to die, turned to her father and said, "Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."

She would have giggled, if she'd had the energy, but she fell into a deep and happy sleep, wrapped up in the Hound's arms.