I'm very glad you all enjoyed Sandor's POV. I'll be sure to do more of his view now then. Thank you for the reviews, faves and alerts, very much. They are very encouraging, and very kind. This is a tiny disclaimer, I have no idea how long this will be. I continue to write it with a direction I'd like it to go. Certainly not passed Storm of Swords, but, there will be spoilers in here. If you've not read Storm of Swords, I'd suggest holding off on further chapters. This chapter is 10 pages long... I apparently had a lot to say. Dear goodness.

Don't grow up too fast
And don't embrace the past
This life's too good to last
And i'm too young to care

Chapter Six-

They stopped to make camp that evening when the sun gave subtle hints of falling from the sky to give night its time. Sansa hadn't spoken to the Hound since their spat. She kept her arms crossed over her chest, hiding her breasts, but it only gave way to a growing cleavage. Good, if he looked he'd know what he wasn't getting. That thought even made her feel sick. She didn't want him to look upon her like that. She wanted him to look with eyes full of admiration and love, not lust, even if it made her loins excited, even for a moment. She leaned against a tree, feeling an acorn at her back. There were so many acorns!

"Where are we?" she asked. She had a good idea, actually, but she wanted to feign innocence.

"Away from Harrenhal," Sandor answered as he hit two flint pieces together, creating sparks for a fire.

She knew better than that though. Judging by what the tailor had said, and the acorns, they were close to Acorn Hall. Riverrun would only be a few days ride from there. She stood, going over to Stranger and grabbing the comb Sandor had bought for her. The horse grunted at her, stomping his foot, but he let her rummage in the bags till she found what she was looking for.

Sandor laughed, but it was a darker laugh; like he knew a joke at her expense.

"Please, ser, what's so funny?" she spat.

He glared at her for a moment, hitting the flint pieces harder together, catching the kindling with the sparks. "Nothin'."

Sansa sighed, exasperated. It was one step forward and two steps back with him! She wanted to hate him again. It was so much easier when she hated him…

She stared into the fire as it caught. Her blue eyes focusing on Sandor's form as he stood. "Where're you going?"

"Do you just ask questions all day? No wonder Queen Cersei thought you bloody stupid."

The jab hurt worse than she'd expected. She knew the queen had found her lacking with intelligence, but to know she had spoken it openly, and to him… Tears pricked at her eyes.

She smoothed her hair back, looking away from him as he retreated away from her, disappearing into the trees. She looked to Stranger. If it were any other horse, she'd be off and away, fleeing to Riverrun and to the warm embrace of her mother, but it was Stranger, and she was smart enough to know the horse moved for no one but Sandor Clegane.

She nibbled on some black bread, trying to pass the time, counting the different kinds of birds she saw up in the trees. She hadn't noticed the Hound's return.

Sandor sat down at the fire, sharpening his sword. She watched his hands as they moved. They were careful and precise. Each move he made was strong, but like a caress.

"Used to be you wouldn't even look at me." She heard him say roughly.

"Used to be I didn't know you," she retorted.

"Still don't know me."

"I know you tolerate books and women who ask too many questions."

He laughed at that, nodding in approval at her joke. She felt smug with herself.

"Still don't know me."

She wanted to throw this piece of bread at him, but that'd be a waste and she was certainly not going to risk losing good food.

"The tailor, back in the village," Sandor said as he continued sharpening his sword. "No one greeted me there, 'cept him. Called me "ser."

"You wore the armor of a knight. You should be a knight."

"Don't go around announcing to the world who you are," he warned. His voice cold as the sword he was sharpening.

That angered her. How dare he just assume like that! "I didn't tell him who I was!"

"How'd you get all the bloody clothing then? Or are you just too proud to tell me you let him touch you!"

"I've never been touched, dog! How dare you even suggest such a thing!"

"Many women are touched before they marry. Think you'll be something special?"

She had had it. She stood up, throwing the bread to the ground, seeing it crumble a bit. "I don't consider myself something special, but I'd appreciate it if you looked at me with more respect. You think you know me? You know nothing about me!"

He laughed, yet there was no joy in that laugh. It was like a dog snarling. "You have the body of a woman, but you still speak like a girl."

"And you're just a coward!" she countered. That seemed to strike a nerve, for despite his size, he was up in the blink of an eye, already right in front of her as he pressed her hands above her head against a tree.

"Think me a coward all you want, girl! Think your self some innocent maiden. Think if I wanted you I couldn't just take you?" His voice was rough as he yelled at her. "Think if your life depended on it, you wouldn't spread those porcelain legs of yours? You'd moan like a whore all the same as the rest!"

Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't break eye contact. "I'd never allow you to touch me like that. I'd rather die!"

She saw something break inside his eyes. His grip suddenly gone and he was walking away as he grabbed two flasks of ale from Stranger's packs. "No, you wouldn't for the likes of me."

Sansa had wanted to believe she imagined the hurt in his voice, but she knew she'd heard it. It was there, like the tree behind her and the pulsating in her loin. She did want him though…that was the issue. But she didn't want The Hound with his snarls and his anger; she wanted Sandor, with that crooked smile and that dark chocolate voice.

She collapsed to the ground, shaking as she sobbed. She hated herself! She hated this situation. She wanted her mother! Worst yet, she wanted her father.

Blue eyes scanned her surroundings, but she saw no trace of Sandor Clegane. He'd stormed off with his alcohol and left her alone with a horse that wouldn't budge even if she pushed him.

Night came quickly, despite her misery and fear. She had kept the fire going, hoping that if Sandor came back, that's how he could find her. Yet he never came. She could hear wolves howling, but her fear wasn't that they'd find her. Her fear was that they could find him. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but she tried to fight it as best she could. If it had been an hour, or several she didn't know, but her battle with sleep was ended, as she fell to the ground where she sat, sleeping like a baby next to a warm fire.

She woke up shivering, the fire long since died out. Panicked, she looked around. Stranger was still there, but he had been pulling on his reigns, chewing them, like he'd been trying to leave. Had Sandor really not come back?

Brushing herself off from the acorns, leaves and dirt, Sansa looked around. "Sandor!" she shouted, using his name, hoping that it would amend the anger between them. "Sandor where are you?" No voice answered. "SANDOR!" she shrieked, unable to contain her nerves and panic. Was she alone? Had the wolves gotten him? Or worse, someone?

She wouldn't cry. She couldn't afford to break down and cry. She untied Stranger, the horse flicked his nose up violently, stomping his feet, but he didn't retreat. He waited for her to mount and then they were off, Sansa having no control over the horse.

His hooves beat violently into the earth, like the sounds of thousands of men charging in war. His breath came loud, but steady. She felt his strong muscles as they lunged across the earth. Where were they going? Did Stranger know? Or was he panicked that his rider had abandoned him? Yet why would the horse allow Sansa on if not because he knew where Sandor was? Maybe Sansa was giving the beast too much credit… He was just a horse, even if Sandor begged to differ.

The giant warhorse slowed down to a trot after hours of running as fast as he could, heaving and foaming at the mouth. "Acorn Hall…" Sansa said as they looked down at the town. "We were this close?"

Stranger heaved his head up, making a strange, panicked sound. "Sandor down there, boy?" she asked. The horse stomped his feet. She dismounted, pulling on his reins. Surprisingly, the horse followed. They went down a bit further off the hill, and what she saw froze her soul to ice. Sandor was in an iron prison, barely big enough to fit him. People were laughing and throwing things at him. Her heart panicked. What was she to do now? How could she rescue him? She couldn't… She didn't know how.

Misery poisoned her resolve as she crumbled to the ground. They had both said such strong words to each other, his more than hers, but she had still fought back. These people probably were going to kill him and Sansa had no money to offer in exchange. She only had Stranger, and Sandor would refuse that offer, she was sure.

"What am I to do?" she asked the horse.

He only responded with a grunt, still wheezing from his exhausting run. But moments later, he was charging down into the town, into the crowd. "No!" Sansa yelled, but it was too late. He was caught, kicking, wheezing and screeching. She could see Sandor looking at him, but his expression was out of her sight. A group of men managed to stable Stranger, but if he'd stay there, Sansa was unsure. She guessed the stupid horse would, if Sandor was near.

"Now what?" she asked herself. The comb, the black dress and all her food were inside Stranger's packs. She was left with a single dress and not even a man who knew how to hunt. She had no choice but to go into that town. But she'd wait for it to get dark.

Night felt like it took a thousand years to finally approach, but it finally settled on the town. Sansa was able to make way to town, and pass the guards at the gates as she clung to the shadows.

She saw the iron cages, but Sandor was no longer in one. Fear gripped at her soul. Had they killed him? She had been watching the town the entire day! Was it when she was skulking about the shadows trying to get in? She touched the iron that had previously encased Sandor Clegane, seeing the blood, filth and dung. How cruel of these people…

"What you be doing out here?" a woman's rough voice asked.

Sansa turned around, eyes as round as a newborb babe's. "I was just…the prisoner is gone?"

"Aye, took him for the trial. My guess is he's dying painfully." She cackled.

Sansa had to pretend she didn't care. She nodded curtly. "G-good. He deserves it."

"Aye he does! If King Robert were still here. Gods bless him."

"Yes, King Robert." That was utterly perplexing. Joffery was Robert's son, but maybe Acorn Hall believed the rumors about the Kingslayer and Cersei. Did they wish Robb the king?

The woman left, thankfully. Sansa watched her make way to what she assumed was the tavern. Was that all people did? Drank and threw dung at caged men? How was the world so cold! Maybe Sandor was right… No one was good.

'My father was good. My brother good as well as my mother. Maybe only the Starks are good, and those who love them.' She walked about the town. Listening to the chatter and laughs of drunken men. She was a woman grown; yet no one paid any mind to her. It was as if she were a ghost. She honestly liked it that way.

She found a dark area, between two buildings was a lean to and she sat with the pigs that resided there. They oinked at her, and blinked their beady eyes at her, but once they grew bored of her, they left her alone. She put her head down, but she wouldn't cry. What was she to do now? If Sandor was dead…

'It's my fault. If I didn't make him angry, he'd have stayed with me.' Guilt plagued at her soul, nipping it and tearing it piece by piece. She would not cry though. Maybe she could find a knight here and tell them who she was. Sandor had warned her though to not do that. For once, she decided to believe him. The world was cruel. He may have been cruel too, but he was honest and he did what he could for her. He'd got her apples when she wanted them, shared his catches from hunts with her, and given her his white cloak to sleep with; even a bed for a night. He'd done more for her than anyone outside of her own family.

She felt the tears before she even realized she'd been crying. She didn't sob, but she looked to her hands in her lap, and allowed the salty water from her eyes fall, like a steady rain on a cold night.

'I'm so sorry you died because of me.'

She woke, still with the pigs. People were passing by but they gave no care to the girl sleeping with the pigs. She was quite thankful though. She'd rather keep to her misery. She stood, pulling hay from her hair. She smelled like the sty. Maybe Stranger would leave, now that Sandor was dead.

She walked past people, glaring at them from under her unruly hair, but they didn't look to her. Something felt…off. The people whispered to each other, but there was no celebration. They were…disappointed by something.

She entered the stable, her heart clutching as her only hope was snuffed away. Stranger was gone. She panicked, her eyes double-checking, but no other horse here was as nice as he was. There were three that looked good enough to ride. The others looked like they'd been seen better days. Maybe she could just steal a horse. Her morality quivered at the idea of breaking a law though… And these people did have iron cages.

Sansa left the stable, seeing a young boy speaking to an older man. "They let him go, Grandpapa?" the boy shouted.

"Aye. Lord Dondarrion passed judgement. Innocent. Pah! Innocent! The Hound!" the old man went on more, but Sansa had stopped caring.

He was alive! Sansa heart fluttered with glee! She wanted to find him, and apologize for everything she had said. Part of her wanted to fling herself into his arms and allow him to do as he pleased. She knew he'd probably insult her no matter which greeting she chose.

Her eyes turned back to the stables. She had to steal a horse. She had to find him again. She had no idea where he'd be going though, and if she started asking questions, she was scared someone would notice she wasn't of this town. Acorn Hall was bigger than the village they'd been at before, but it was really only a stronghold, and House Smallwood only small in lordship. Someone with a careful eye would know she didn't belong.

She walked back to the stables, hiding behind her hair as she passed several people. No one seemed to pay her any attention. They all seemed to be brooding over Sandor's "innocence." He'd been with her! How could he have done anything! She crept into the stables, feeling like thousands of eyes were upon her. She felt every horse was suspicious of her. They whinnied, snorted and stomped, but none of them seemed so abrasive as Stranger. She patted a white mare, cooing at her softly. The horse seemed to respond to her nicely enough. She found some saddles. Just as she was about to pick one out, she heard voices approaching. She ducked behind a barrel, hoping they wouldn't come near her.

"Beric shouldn't have let him go," one of them said. He was young, with red hair and a pleasant enough voice.

"He won, simple as that." The other was a handsome man, for being older. "Could've made a pretty song about him killing Clegane though." They saddled two horses, and went on their way, wherever that was.

Sansa was thankful they hadn't taken the white mare. She wasted no time in saddling her, fixing her bridle and galloping at full speed out of the town. She heard shouts, and prayed that no one was quick enough to get into another saddle, or that the other two would find her. She was out the gate before the guards had time to close it. Freedom never felt so good! She couldn't help but allow a laugh to escape her lips. It was loud, airy and it sang thousands of songs up to the birds who responded back with their own chirping laugher. She rode until she could no longer see Acorn Hall, and the sky began to darken as the sun set behind the earth's curves.

She stopped the white mare, bringing her over to a small creek with a dribble of water. It was enough to wet her face, and give the mare a good drink. "We'll be here tonight," she said, patting the white mare on the head. She didn't want to shout, but she wondered how Sandor would be able to find her. Had he gone back the way she'd come from with Stranger? Sansa had no idea of which way was what out here. Everything looked the same. She used a rock, carving it into a tree. She hacked at the wood, making letters as she went.

"Find me Sandor." It said, albeit in poor handwriting. She signed it with "LB." If he didn't come tonight, she'd leave a trail. She went to another tree, carving the same message in and marking it again with LB. She must have marked about fifteen trees when the sun finally went down. She fumbled around in the dark with the stone, seeing it as her only protection out here and curled in on herself as she chook and froze within the night's chill.

She had barely slept that night, and she wasn't sure how many hours, if that she slept at all. Every sound made her turn her head, and every hoot, crack or howl sent a chill down her spine. She was glad when the sun rose from behind the trees. Her stomach growled loudly and she wished she knew how to hunt, or at least smash an animal's head in with her rock, but she'd feel guilty and she didn't have anything to skin anything with anyway. She cupped her hands, drinking as much of the creek's water as she could. It held a bit of a metal taste, but she didn't care. She was aiming to fill her stomach with the water.

After she had drunk all she could stomach, she set off on her mare, marking trees every second she got. She collected a few rocks, as she noticed some were sharper than others. She'd want as much protecting as she could get. She'd tied up her hem of her dress, making it a basket for her rocks as she went along with her mare.

It was easy not to get lost, marking the trees as she did, but she found herself getting turned around a few times. How as that even possible? She looked up at the sky. 'Please Sandor…find me.'

Two nights she had been alone. She was starving and so desperate for food that she had managed to smash a squirrel's head in with one of her rocks. She had tore into the squirrel, feeling its warm blood on her hands as it ran down to her elbows and dotted her dress, that was now browning with earth, dirt and blood. She was utterly disgusted with herself, but she drank the blood, knowing there was sustenance within it. Her stomach couldn't handle the innards though, so after a few bites from the small bits she could get at, like the thighs, she had to stop eating in fear of throwing it all up. She drank as much creek and stream water as she could, and stopped frequently. Her hands were stained with blood and she cried frequently, but she kept carving, "Find me Sandor –LB." She prayed she wouldn't die out here. She couldn't go back to Acorn Hall. She had no idea how to even get back to it, even if she wanted to. They'd kill her for stealing a horse anyway.

She continued on in her resolve, carving, carving, carving, and crying. Her breath was foul of raw meat and she felt so weak. Her stomach churned frequently but she kept going.

On the third night, she started suffering from lack of proper food preparation as the bit of blood she'd drank and the squirrel's meat went through her like a hot flame, turning her bowels to water. She'd slid off the horse, collapsing to the base of a tree that only said "Fi-." She tied the reins around the tree from her position and lay there, head drooping to the side and mouth open as her stomach churned in turmoil. She had to strength to stand to find a place to expel her sickness, but she refused to sit in her own filth. She crawled to another tree, allowing her bowels to rush out of her body, yet hardly anything came. She had expelled all she had. Water would keep her alive, but she wasn't used to such nutritional neglect. Her stomach howled in hunger yet protested the "meal" she had had earlier that day.

Her hands shook in fear and fever. She was going to die out here… She knew she was. She crawled back to her tree, with her mare and sobbed silently. She heard a crack of wood and something that sounded like a horse. But she didn't look up. "Please…kill me," she whispered.

"After all the bloody trouble you went through carving the entire forest?" The voice was raspy, like bitter dark chocolate and black tea. If she had more tears to cry, she'd have cried for joy.

"Sansa!" a child's voice exclaimed. It sounded like Arya, but that was impossible. Arya was missing, or dead.

Sandor kneeled in front of her, the light of the moon exposing his eyes. They were warm, and sparking with something like…relief?

"Now, you're a wolf," he said, picking her up bridal style.

"No," she answered meekly as she was placed atop Stranger. She almost fell but two strong hands held her in place. "I'm just a little bird…"

His laugh was soft, almost like he wished he weren't laughing. She would have commented on how he literally smelled of shit, but she was sure she did too, and she was too weak to speak anymore. Her eyes fluttered shut. She didn't know when he'd gotten onto Stranger, but as she slipped again, his arms caught her, pulling her into his chest.

"I found you, Little bird." Was the last thing she heard before she passed out.

Song: Blackout by Muse