Chapter 10
The Lady and
The Dog
Oh, Seven Heavens! What's happened?
This is all I can think, pacing in my head. This thought circles as an animal, as a wolf….as a….
He….he….what….when did he….? He has done so much more than touch me! He…..swaddled me? Am I his infant child? NO! I AM a LADY, or I was….I was Sansa Stark of Winterfell, first daughter of Eddard Stark, and Catelyn Tully. I am 10 and 3, not 1 and nothing!
He….dropped me. Oh, dear. I can hardly move. I am so weak; I do not recall why.
I can hear in my mind's ear Ser Arry's mocking laughter! Bother, bosh!
I will not cry, I will not sob! I refuse! Daft princesses with pointy noses cry! I am not those! I am nothing of the kind! I am a Stark, and a Tully. Duty and honor first. But where was the honor in tears or screams? Ah, I humiliate my poor mother. She would disapprove of my rash behavior, so terrible and infantile….
The man who calls himself a dog must think so little of me. He called me a child, I think. Yes, he did. And what a child I act! He surely wants naught to do with me now. I am lost for the moment, my strength—oh, would I call it such?—tapped out!
I crawl, degree by degree, to my pitcher, so full. He has to have refilled it as I know I do not fill containers so high—too much risk for spillage. I know he is certainly no gentleman, but a warrior, blunt as a rusted blade. Ay, so it goes I find another bold peck! The Gods have their fun play—I hope they like their watch as they witness a maid crawl as a worm in the soil! Yea, dignity, cheers! I shall drink deeply of you!
I reach the handle. I grasp it too tightly. I tremble. Water flies in drops. I lick after them, down the stiffened sides. My tongue is dully flesh grey. I realize I am ill, and quite so.
What has happened? Where have I been? What have I done?
Shit, shit, shit! What happens now, you mutt?! You acted without thinkin', ya did! Cock and bleedin' balls! Ya can't do naught righ'! E'er 'thing you touch dies!
F U C K!
Don't bite….the dog thinks to himself, sighing quietly. No, don't bite. Lie down. Stop. Stay away for now.
Why did she cry? What did dog do? Dog only tried to quell her. So many tears make dog so sad. No more, no more. Stop. Now, stop.
Why….did she….look….at….dog's face….like thus? What did, does she….think?! Or did she….not….?
Oi, she really looked, did she not?! Can't bear to look at a mutt! N'ither can it, bird. Ha, ha, as it likes not, too. Ha, ha!
Bad dog, you bad dog! She….will need..help. Soon, too. Again. And again. The little peep is scared. Blush, blush. Screech, screech! Dog's fault!
Lie back now, low. Sand is soft. Eyes close. All dark. All gone now. Peace for now. Now quiet.
Not quiet! Why not? Listen, hear little coos. Peep, peep! Coming close. Coming closer! What….?
"Dog," he hears a squeaky cheep.
Why does she crawl to a dog?
"Please, Dog," she practically sings now. "Will you forgive me for not being a go-..a good lady?"
She still crawls along, so weak. Poor, broken, baby bird. The Dog can take no more. He groans, reaching out, extending much to paw her swiftly off, up, to.
"Babe…." he chokes out the sound. "So small. Here, bird. Dog helps you come to it."
He holds her away from his face, carefully turns one side away.
She rather boldly taps his soft cheek. Both are struck by the softness extending each way. Her eyes are large….and so curiously absorbed, soaking the sight of her….companion straight in.
"Hello," she chirps, warmth in her tone.
It is the first time he smiles while she is watching.
She finds herself wishing, funnily enough, that this odd, upturned expression doesn't hide from her sight again.