A Burning He Can't Escape, Chapter Seven
The town they stop in is a small bunch of dwellings near the river, called Stone's Throw for its proximity to the Stoney Sept. It is the Hound's wish to keep riding until they reach the city proper, but Sansa is loath to cross the Blackwater Rush again. They would have to, or travel the length of it, and the thought of more riding exhausts her. Stone's Throw boasts a small inn and stable. Despite the Hound's assurances that the beds will be only marginally better than sleeping on the ground, Sansa cannot resist the opportunity.
The inn is empty of patrons save for them, which Sansa takes as a good omen. The innkeep's wife, a busty woman called Jona, brings them food and wine at the Hound's behest and gratefully takes his coin. He keeps his face hooded and, despite his misgivings about stopping here, Sansa notices that he seems as grateful as she to taste the bread, broth, and meat. And he helps himself to as much wine as Jona is willing to pour for him.
Jona is full of questions for Sansa, and Sansa is grateful to have another woman to speak with, even if the innkeep's wife is much older than she is.
"We've not had a lot of business these past weeks," Jona tells her with regret. "The river floods now and then, and folk stick to the main roads even in the best of times. I suppose I don't need to tell you that these aren't the best of times. All sorts of unsavory types skulking about the Riverlands these days. Anyone with walls to hide behind is like to stay behind them for quite some time, I'd say. Too many wolves and lions about, and hardly enough room for the rest of us."
Sansa thinks of the burned man and his farmhouse, nothing but rubble and ash. "The roads are dangerous."
"I suppose you'd know better than I would, at that," Jona says. "Poor thing. If you like, I can fill a tub for you and you can wash off some of that dirt."
After a brief glance at the Hound, Sansa nods curtly. "I'd be very grateful."
After their meal, the Hound retires to their room but Sansa lets Jona lead her to the kitchens, where she's filled a wooden tub for her. Sansa kneels to run her fingers along the water's surface. It's cold, but clear, and much preferable to washing herself with a cloth and stream water. Her muscles ache just looking at it. It feels as if she has been riding a horse and sleeping on rocks for ages. She doesn't think she's ever been so grateful to anyone as she is to Jona.
"Thank you," she tells the innkeep's wife, who is watching her with a curious expression.
"You're welcome. Now there's a pretty smile," she says, smiling back with plump lips. "Gods be good, you remind me of my girl when you smile like that."
"Your daughter?" Sansa questions, her smile slipping. "Is she...?"
"Married," Jona tells her, and Sansa is flooded with relief. "With girls of her own and one strong boy, as well. I may still have a dress or two of hers about, if you'd like a change once you've washed up."
"I couldn't ask that of you, you've already been so kind," Sansa says quickly, but Jona interrupts her.
"Nonsense. I've no use for old clothes, and you'll need more than rags if you're headed up north. Now, I'll give you your privacy."
She is so unused to this sort of kindness that, for a moment, Sansa wonders what Jona's reasons are. I'm being unfair, she thinks, and rids her head of doubt.
She resolves to ask the Hound if they can give Jona more coin, for the bath and the clothes. Once Jona leaves, she slips out of her cloak and the old dress she's wearing, all the happier for Jona's offer when she sees how tight her clothes are becoming. She brought very little with her. They left so urgently, she grabbed only a few things from the top of her chest of clothes and ran. Everything she owns is now soiled and constricting. It feels good to be out of the dress and even better to lower herself into the tub and let the cold water swallow her up. She scrubs the dirt away and combs the tangles from her short hair with her fingers, surprised at how messy it has become.
When she emerges, she finds to her surprise that Jona has placed a couple of dresses on the stool by the door. She didn't hear the woman enter. Sansa selects a plain cotton dress of white and brown, lacing it together carefully. It is slightly too big for her, but nowhere near as big as the Hound's cloak. She paws her hair into order and creeps out of the kitchen. Jona is cleaning tables when Sansa finds her.
"There, now," the woman says when she sees her. "What a beauty."
"I don't know how to thank you," Sansa tells her, lowering her gaze.
"You can answer a question. That man up there, is he your father? Tell it true."
Jona's sudden scrutiny makes Sansa's pulse quicken. Did she recognize him? She swallows her panic and nods her head mutely, hoping that she does not appear as frightened as she feels. Jona purses her lips, but accepts Sansa's answer.
"Very well, then," she says, resuming her work.
"May I ask you something?" Sansa clasps her hands to keep from fidgeting. "We've been riding for a very long time, and I was wondering if there was any... news?"
She cannot ask about her mother or Robb, nor her grandfather or uncle. A passing common girl like herself would have no interest in the business of Robb Stark's army or the doings of Lord Tully.
Jona eyes her for a moment before saying, "Not since Lord Hoster Tully's funeral, and that was days past. Oh, I suppose there is the wedding."
Funeral, Sansa thinks. Only aloud does she say, "Wedding?"
"Aye, Edmure Tully means to marry one of Walder Frey's girls. Him and his nephew and their whole host of northmen are riding for the Twins," Jona tells her.
"Oh," says Sansa, while her mind races. "Please excuse me, I'm awfully tired. Thank you again."
It is rude to leave so quickly, but her courtesies are forgotten. They are going the wrong way. She will have to tell the Hound that her mother and brother won't be found at Riverrun.
The room he bought for them is small, illuminated by candles and the moonlight coming through the window. Sansa enters expecting to find him asleep, but he is on the edge of the bed, polishing his helm with a cloth. He is out of his armor. Sansa realizes how strange it is to see him in the light without it. He gazes at her for a few moments when she enters, his eyes roving over her new dress, before looking down again.
"My mother and Robb are riding for the Crossing," she tells him. "For my uncle's wedding."
The Hound stops at that, sucks the inside of his cheek briefly, and then sets his helm aside. "Then our journey just got longer."
"You're not angry, are you?" she questions, her eyes flickering to his.
"No, little bird. There's nothing to be done for it," he replies with a tight smile. "Eager to be rid of me?"
In fact, she has been worrying what will happen when to him when they finally reach her family. "No. Are you? Eager to be rid of me, I mean."
He chuckles at that, like he does when she says something either bold or stupid. She wonders which this is.
"Take the bed, girl. I'd rather have the floor than this bloody thing."
She does, with restored gratitude. Sleep comes slowly, however, in spite of Sansa being in a real bed at last.
