Hi all, thank you so much for reading my little fiction. I'm so touched that so many of you are following and enjoying it. I am sorry that I post updates so sporadically but as a full time nurse I find it hard to keep to a regular writing schedule. I write when I am in the zone and inspired, I am an avid GOT fan and love GOT fan fiction soooo much so if I'm not reading it, I'm writing it! Any way, I will continue with this short chapter and will carry on writing this fiction this coming week - I wanted Sandor's POV as well as Gendry and Arya's but I want to carry on the seen with Arya's POV. Stay tuned, and thanks so much for taking the time to read my ramblings!


Sandor

He'd sensed the camp some time back. He could smell it stronger with every league he crossed, the smoke weaving between the trees, enticing his nose and eliciting a tingling on his taste buds as he sniffed out its source. His stomach growled, as he pushed on through the trees, only realising his hunger again since his supper of roast chicken and mead. He hoped he'd find whoever had started the fire had a few rashers of bacon or a fat juicy sausage with his name on it. He'd skewer them with his sword if they declined anyhow.

Creeping towards the edge of the forest, he looked around, checking the coast was clear and that no little pig fuckers had slinked up beside or behind him to accost him before leaving the shadow of the vines. Finding that he was indeed alone, he ventured forth. The smell of smoke was stronger out in the clear starry night, and over by a further encirclement of trees he saw the stream of smoke wafting towards him. The patch of trees was sparse however, and not wanting to attract attention, he climbed down from his steed and, taking the reins in one giant hand, he proceeded towards the source of the smoke, his horse in tow.

Leading his horse to the west of the encampment, away from the road and out of sight of prying eyes, he tied the reins to the trunk of a sturdy looking tree and advanced through the trees until he stumbled across a large clearing, the smoke more concentrated now, and stinging his eyes. There was no sound, or signs of life around the remnants of the fire as he approached, great sword unsheathed and glinting in the moonlight. Sweeping the perimeter one more time, he knelt before the fire, lowering his sword to the dewy ground, and unsheathing a gloved hand before lowering it over the burnt out fire. It was still warm. Furtively looking around once more, he noticed that the patch of grass by the old oak next to the fire was flattened and it too still felt warm.

Someone's here. Someone is still here.

The air smelled vaguely of flowers, roses Sandor thought as he edged further away from the smoke of the fire, he noted that not a flower seemed to be adorning the fringes of the camp. It was then he knew she was there. His features relaxed, the corner of his scarred line of a mouth curled up in a smirk and he let forth a quiet snort of laughter.

"Come out, come out wherever you are, little Stark bitch"