Sandor walked the perimeter of the inn, searching for clues as to why there was no one to be seen in any direction. To the horizons and back, no life to be seen stirred. He wasn't sure if those who had once resided here were forced out by troops, or if they fled in fear of something that was coming their way. Regardless, they had no other choice in shelter for the evening and this was the best they were going to get.

The inn was as cold inside as it was outside, and as he re-entered he was immediately set on finding means of heat that would suffice throughout the day and night. There rested a small stack of wood by the sooty fireplace, but he found no more while searching the property. He could burn the tables and chairs, he thought. Aye, that would do. The wood was brittle and old, and he was surprised at the amount of dust upon the tops. No one could have been here for a long while if this much dust had already settled. As the door opened, rain drops blew in and Sansa was bringing in the saddle bags.

"I untacked the horses and brushed them down. I brought them to the barn, but it's wet and cold, and I'm beginning to worry about them. There was some hay for bedding, so I set it down. Do you think it will be enough? Oh, I hope they don't freeze in the night or grow ill."

She continued her babbling and Sandor let her finish before commenting, "I'm sure they'll be fine. They've both got their winter furs. You've noticed that while brushing them, yes?"

Sansa was still a bit weary, but the look she wore on her face did now not look so worried.

Sandor nodded in approval and got back to his business. Taking apart these chairs reminded Sandor of breaking bones; he shuttered, but continued.

"Where will we go, Sandor?"

"I'm not sure yet. Winterfell? The Free Cities? The Wall? Right now anywhere you'll be safe."

He against concentrated on his work, but only got in a few moments work before Sansa made a small cough, using it as an announcement she was about to speak.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Sansa?"

Every time he used her name a shiver traveled from her toes up her spine.

"You see, ser, I- I just don't think you should be doing that. What if these people come back?"

"The way I see it is they deserve it. They're the bastards that left it behind," he said gruffly, breaking another leg chair.

Sansa started to protest again before he interrupted, "Would you rather freeze tonight? You see those clouds. You know what they mean, probably better than I. You're wise, Sansa. Use your head."

Sansa crossed the room and slid to the ground by the fireplace, leaning her head back against the cold stone wall.

"I'm not wise."

"You are."

"I'm just a stupid little bird," a single tear rolling down her cheek.

Sandor sat beside her. He felt regret. She would never doubt herself if he had never made such harsh comments back during their time in King's Landing.

"You are much wiser than I was at your age," he stated, "At your age I was a damn fool. I would have never been as brave as you are today. I would never had been able to swallow my pride to save my own life. I wouldn't have trusted a man like me."

"You blame yourself too harshly, Sandor. I don't believe you've done anything with as much pleasure as you lead people to believe. You are not the man others assume you to be, I knew that from the beginning."

Silence loomed between the two, but the air surrounding them was filled with static. Sansa again found her mind wandering to a forbidden place; ladies were not supposed to think of such things. But for months she could not get this man out of her mind. The way his voice sent thrills throughout her entire body. The way he gently guided her, making her feel safe. The way he came behind her and breathed upon her neck, made her blush.

He shifted his body in her direction, placing his hand upon her cheek. Sansa sucked a breath, but inched forward slowly simultaneously. Her heart beat fast, and she placed her left hand on his right, intertwining her fingers between his. She looked down at them, hers so small and frail in comparison to his. She looked back up, his face inches from him, eyes meeting. She smiled, and he looked away, the magic present just a moment ago had vanished. She released his hand; the air now flat, the magic lost, the moment passed. She awkwardly stood, not knowing how to act. He was going to kiss her, she was sure of it, he had been so close.

"I'm going upstairs," she whispered, not looking at him before she departed from the room.

Once he heard she was gone, he kicked the closest object in fury. She was going to kiss him back, he was sure of it, she had willingly come closer to him, she had held his hand. But then she smiled. Yes, she smiled that perfect grin and Sandor lost his gut. He had gotten too nervous. He could not understand how someone as perfect as she could possible look upon someone as cruel looking as himself and smile.

Sandor didn't know how women worked, how they thought, how they felt. He felt as though she could look right into his soul, and it had shaken him. He had never been vulnerable before, not to anyone, and this girl had changed his whole life in a matter of months.

He wanted to be better for her. He wanted to be a noble man, like the knights she so often spoke of, but Sandor knew he would never be of the such. He was but a flawed man, a flawed man that needed someone as pure as Sansa to lead him out of his misery. But would he do that to her? Could he? Could he let her into the deepest parts of his heart, and mind, and confess all he had done?

Already she knew parts of him Sandor had struggled to hide from everyone's eye. But then he knew her as well. They knew each other on levels others never would, because they were so similar.

"Bugger me," he rasped, climbing the stairs after her, "Sansa? Little Bird?"

He reached the top of the stairs and saw her standing in the middle of the hallway, tears present.

He walked straight towards her, clasping her face in his large hands, looking her straight in the eyes, wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

"I don't know how to do this. Feel. You've made me feel and I don't know what to do with the pieces," Sansa saw him look at her with awe, "A nd I don't know how someone as perfect as you, perfect in every way can want me."

"I'm not perfect," Sansa argued, shaking her head, more tears falling now.

"You are. To me you are. You always have been."

"You want to know how I can want someone like you? Because I see you, not your fucking scars, and not your drunken alter-ego you hide behind. You! If only you could see the same man I do."

"I want to see him, to find him. I can't do it alone, Sansa," his hands dropped, and he began pacing, "Even if I can, what's the point? You're going to leave one day, you're going to leave and marry some rich lord who can give you everything you want."

"You are a bloody fool! I don't want them, I want you!"

Sandor came back towards her, and pushed her against the wall, pushing her arms above her head and grasped her wrists, "Why? How could you want me?"

"I've already told you," she whispered.

Her could feel as her breasts heaved against him as she breathed heavily. In and out, in and out. He pushed harder against her, and she moved into him, a small growl lifting from her throat.

"Why?" he asked again.

She straightened herself and tugged on her wrists, Sandor released them. Sansa was mad now, "You question me, but you answer none of the questions I ask. I answer you truthfully and you doubt me and come up with excuses and turn conversations into fights," she moved beneath his arm, freeing herself from the cage of body he had formed around her.

Sandor now turned and was against the wall being corned by Sansa, "You say beautiful things, and then. you. ruin. them," she snarled, poking him in the chest, giving emphases to every word she said.

He grabbed her finger and she pulled it from her grip, turning in frustration.

He came behind her and lowered his head to her ear, "Sansa, you have to understand...I've never felt this before," he swallowed before starting again, "Help me understand."

As he whispered into her ear, Sansa again felt the lightness enter her chest, "I think you have to understand them on your own," she said, letting her head back, feeling his lips come into contact with her neck.

He kissed her softly there below her ear, and then turned her face towards his. Sandor saw the want her her eyes, but it was masked by anxiety. She was nervous of this interaction. Though Sandor wanted nothing more at this point than to kiss her passionately, to lay her down, and kiss every inch of her body, he wouldn't. Sandor could finally control himself around her. He didn't want to push her into something she was unsure of, of something she was still scared of.

He backed himself away from Sansa without any trouble, his dick no longer controlling him. Sansa breathed through her nose stumbling back, the want for him making her light headed, but the nervousness within in her giving her enough sense to not pursue him any farther. They stared at each other, one on each side of the hallway, directly across from one another.

Sansa's hair was out of it's braid and her face was smudged with dirt, he smiled at her. He liked her best this way, natural, and away from all the things that hid her true beauty available in King's Landing. She had lowborn clothing on, and her shoes were nothing to be talked of. She was just Sansa here. She was not Lady of Winterfell, sister of the King of the North, she wasn't even the King's betrothed anymore. She was just Sansa.

Sansa wanted nothing more than to have Sandor look at her as he was now. He was overlooking her, and the more he looked at, the more his smile widened. Sandor's hair was pushed away from his scar, and she smiled back at him. Perhaps she could make him see what she saw. A brave, handsome, strong man.

They both stood in the hallway until the light faded from the sky, and until the wolves began to howl. Sandor walked back over to Sansa, taking on of her pale skinned hands in his rough tanned one. He embraced her, and rubbed his face in her soft hair. He lightly placed kisses on her finger tips, and then on her forehead, and then on her cheeks, and nose, and eyelids, and finally her mouth, never once making a rough or forward move. Sansa kissed him back, enjoying the softness he was showing her.

He let go of her, and again backed up against the opposite side of the hall. He stared at her intently, closely, and a small smile agains crossed his features.

Sansa felt her stomach grumble, and Sandor shifted his gaze to it, noticing the sound.

"We need strength for our journey tomorrow, I'll go fetch us some bread and cheese," she said.

As she reached the stairs she halted as he called her.

"Little Bird?"

She grabbed both sides of the doorframe of the stairwell, and looked back at him, "Yes?"

He looked down at his feet as though gaining courage, he looked back up at her, rubbing his hand's together, the nervous tick present again, "I think I love you."

Sansa smiled at him, as he watched her, desperation in his eyes, "Finally, you admit to it."

She turned back around before he called out again, "And you?"

Just her eyes peeked around the corner now, but Sandor could see the smile in her eyes, "Must you even ask?"

"Yes."

"I love you too."

Sandor reached up to his face and felt his scars, and for once did feel bitterness. He felt his lips, and felt the smile, and felt it widen even still.

He could still hear her shuffling around downstairs. He descended down the stairs to help her, but half way down froze as he heard something else. Hooves beating against the ground.