DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to George R.R. Martin and his amazing Song of Ice & Fire Series. I claim no ownership to any of this, even the parts I made up :) I'm just having my fun because all seven gods of the faith, the old gods and R'hllor know that he probably won't take SanSan where I want them to go :)

SANSA

She slept in the crook of Sandor's arm, and in the morning the singer - Tom, he called himself - pulled her from the embrace and led them out of the caverns. Sacks were shoved over their heads before their eyes could adjust to the blinding sun and for a moment Sansa panicked, thinking that they would take him away from her now and not let her say goodbye. But she was set on a horse, a large horse, and Sandor was allowed to ride with her. He locked his arms around her in a tight embrace, and when they stopped sometime later Thoros helped them down and removed their hoods. Arya was there, and the dark-haired boy with whom she obviously kept company. Many of the other Brotherhood members were there as well, watching Sansa and Sandor carefully as they said their farewells.

"My lady," Sandor murmured, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips to give it a kiss, the feel of the roughened scars on his burnt side sending a tingle up her arm. There was no mocking in his eyes, there was nothing, and that worried Sansa more than anything. "Be safe."

"Not without you," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Remember what I told you," was his only reply, and then he released her hand, swept up onto Stranger's back, and was gone.

After several long moments one of the brothers brought her the palfrey she had ridden all the way from King's Landing. "Can we trust you to ride by yourself, now?" the man grunted. Sansa nodded dully, knowing that it was pointless to try to follow Sandor. He would never just ride in one direction, and Stranger was much faster than this little horse. The man helped her onto the palfrey's back and the group rode off. Eventually her sister was riding by her side, that dark-haired boy in their wake, looking a bit put out that Arya was outright ignoring him now.

"You're being such a baby," Arya announced. "Pouting over that dog like Rickon used to pout over a lost toy." Sansa tried to ignore her at first, tried to remember the way Arya had fairly thrown herself into her arms in Stoney Sept, but as usual her little sister simply wouldn't let up. "And you kissed him! If that wasn't so disgusting all on its own -"

"Hush, Arya. You have no idea what you're talking about," Sansa snapped.

"Oh yes I do! His face, Sansa, his face! Even Gendry is handsomer than the Hound," scoffed Arya.

"His scars prove that he was brave," Sansa whispered. "And who in Westeros is Gendry?"

Just then the boy spurred his horse up next to Arya's. "I'm Gendry, m'lady. Gendry...Waters," he said, inclining his head in an awkward little bow. Under his roughened smith's skin Sansa was sure she could see him blush crimson. A bastard, a smith, and some sort of outlaw...where did Arya find this one?

Arya rolled her eyes. "You just shut up, Gendry. Sansa, the Hound is angry...that has nothing to do with bravery. Besides, he's scared to death of fire." Her dirty little face stretched into a smirk and Sansa wanted more than anything to grab a cold wet cloth and rub both the smudges and the look off her sister's face.

"And wouldn't you be if you'd been burned like him? Leave me alone, Arya. You know nothing." Sansa nudged her palfrey with her heels and the horse trotted ahead of her sister and Gendry. Some of the men looked at her curiously, and she felt as if Beric Dondarrion was constantly watching her. Though he was a Lord – or had been, once – somehow his gaze bothered her more than the scrutiny of the more uncouth men in the group.

They rode all day and through most of the night, Sansa doing her best to keep away from her sister. She wanted to believe that Arya was hurt by this, perhaps even enough to stop harping on Sansa about Sandor, but any time they got close to each other she could hear her little sister muttering under her breath - sometimes to Gendry, sometimes to herself. She's gone mad, Sansa thought, and for a moment it crossed her mind to ask Arya what had happened to her this past year...but part of her didn't want to know the answer, and the other part was sure they would just argue again. I am too tired to argue with her.

When they finally stopped the brothers ordered her, Arya and Gendry to remain hidden amongst the trees on a ridge above a small cluster of buildings - a septry, a mill, a brewhouse and some stables. Two men were set to guard them and Sansa watched as the Brotherhood attacked another group of men - outlaws or sellswords or some similar ilk - who had holed up in the septry. When the building finally burst into fire, after Sansa had already seen the archer take out a handful of this enemy of theirs, she had to look away. She focused on Arya, who was watching it all with a fierce, angry sort of joy on her face, biting her lip as if in anticipation. Sansa felt her stomach turn as she once again wondered, Who is this girl?

The battle did not last long, and it was still morning when Lord Beric ordered the trials to begin. One by one the captured men were hung - Bloody Mummers, she'd heard someone call them, and when they were accused of atrocities similar to those that had been placed on Sandor two days prior the Bloody Mummers did not deny their crimes. Tom of Sevenstreams played a dirge on his harp and soon the crows began to arrive; over the din they made together Arya leaned toward Sansa and hissed, "They should have hanged the Hound too."

Every ladylike instinct that still existed in Sansa snapped just then, and she reached out and smacked Arya across the face. For a moment her sister looked stunned, but that was quickly hidden behind a mask of anger that made Sansa shiver as much as - perhaps more than - any awful look Sandor had ever given her. "You'll be sorry for that," Arya said, then wheeled her horse toward the brothers who had gathered near the brewhouse.

Arya sat with some of the brothers that night and talked to Lord Beric about his many deaths. The conversation generally frightened Sansa, but even she had a moment of hope when her little sister asked about bringing back a man who had lost his head. Father... But the answer was no, of course, and the talk turned to the idea of ransoming Arya and herself to their mother and brother at Riverrun. Relief washed over Sansa; surely if they brought her to Riverrun Sandor would find her there! And she could tell her lady mother and Robb how gallant he had been, how he was the one who had really rescued her and how these foolish Brothers without Banners had ruined everything…

As the day waned into night, Tom of Sevenstreams began to play again while some of the other men set up a game of dice. Sansa dozed and thought she dreamt, a dream of a white walker knighting a handsome young man who she thought must be Renly Baratheon, so much did he look like King Robert's youngest brother.

It was the laugh that woke her, his laugh, and she sat bolt upright just in time to see Gendry rising from the floor. Lord Beric, sword in hand, had been standing over the bastard boy. It hadn't quite been a dream after all, then, but all that mattered just now was Sandor standing just there in the doorway. He said he'd come back for me, and he did, he did! She could almost ignore his comment about killing the sentries, because when they asked him why he was there he looked directly at her and said, "To get back what's mine." Only the brothers must not have seen his look, because they began bantering with him over the gold they'd stolen instead. The argument escalated until Arya was once again threatening to kill the Hound, leading Lem to tell Sandor that he'd do well to get back on his horse and leave.

"I'll go, once I've got the girl. And my gold." Sansa stood automatically, made to move toward him, but Dondarrion stepped between them and held her back. Lemoncloak continued to push the argument, but there was a roaring in Sansa's head that drowned his words, drowned everything except for Sandor's eyes on her and the thought that he couldn't, wouldn't, mustn't, leave without her...

Sandor settled his fierce gray eyes on every single person in the room, one at a time as if to memorize their faces, and last of all he locked eyes with her again. She knew then what he would do, knew that it wasn't the right time, yet she still found herself trying to push toward the door as he turned and strode back out into the night, into the rain, disappearing into the inky blackness as she struggled against the men who held her back. She heard Arya's mean little laugh from behind her. "He doesn't even want you with him, Sansa. He only wanted his gold. You're so stupid."

She didn't see how he looked at you, Sansa told herself. He will come back again. He has to come back again.

SANDOR

It had been stupid, walking right up to the brewhouse like that. Once he'd rode away from the Brotherhood it hadn't been long before he'd doubled back and picked up their trail. He saw that the little bird was with them when she rode down to the collapsed septry after the battle, but deep down he'd known it would be near impossible to take her from here. And the little sister, what of her? There was no love lost between Sansa and Arya Stark, that much was obvious, but would the little bird leave her sister behind? Knowing her as he did, he guessed not.

It only upset her that he showed up there and couldn't take her away, he could see it in her eyes, but he hoped that he had been able to communicate the fact that he would be back, that he wouldn't leave her - not really. He retreated and hid himself away, then followed them the next day to High Heart. Sandor could see the giant fire that they built for their camp and shuddered; it reminded him far too much of the fire in the cavern where he'd almost lost his life.

The wind was howling all around him so that he did not hear the ghastly little dwarf woman approach. When she poked him with the gnarled branch she was using as a cane he automatically pulled his sword from his scabbard and almost beheaded her. "Watch yourself, woman," he said warily, lowering his blade but leaving it out, accessible. "You'll get yourself killed sneaking up on people like that."

"Who's sneaking?" the dwarf cackled. "The dog needs to learn to pay more attention to his surroundings, I think."

"What do you want of me, woman?" he snarled. Her words had bit into him because he felt how true they were, now that his not paying attention had cost him both the little bird and his gold.

"To tell you of my dreams, if you pay my price."

"I care nothing for dreams and have no coin to speak of," he admitted.

"You may care for these dreams, Sandor Clegane. And I do not need coin." She peered up at him for a long moment, and finally said, "Some wine will do, if you've got that."

He did. Though they'd ransacked his belongings, those Brothers without Banners, they'd left his food and wine intact. Probably to taunt me, he had thought when he'd found the wine the day before. He shrugged and pulled one of the skins from the pack that hung from his saddle. "Here's your wine," he muttered. "Your dreams you can keep."

But the dwarf ignored him. She settled down under a tree, her back against the trunk, and after taking a long pull from the skin she began to speak, though it seemed as if she was talking more to herself than to him. "The dog will take the bird and the wolf pup, oh yes he will, but he must beware the weasel." She paused to take another drink and Sandor rolled his eyes - the woman made half-sense at best, but gods, he hoped she was right about him taking the little bird back...

The dwarf was silent for so long that Sandor grew restless. "Anything else, then?" he barked. When her eyes shot to his face he realized that she must have withdrawn into herself for a moment; she didn't seem to know where she was as she struggled to her feet, dropping the wineskin to the ground. She began to waddle off, looking back one last time and speaking a single word, terror writ plain on her face.

"Saltpans."

And then she was moving again, muttering something about Summerhall and Jenny of Oldstones as she made for the hilltop. For a moment Sandor wondered if she would reveal his presence to Lord Beric and his group of so-called knights, but then what would it matter? The woman was clearly mad, and he would see them come down that hill after him in plenty of time to hide or escape. He settled in for the night with his back to the same tree where the dwarf had been sitting, and swore that when he lowered himself into the place she'd so recently occupied that the air was suddenly far colder than it had been just minutes before.

*Author's note: Please please please don't think I hate Arya! While she is not one of my favorite characters, I also don't outright dislike her…but I do think that after GoT she started to go a bit nutty. Since I'm writing this from Sansa's POV I'm trying to portray how a girl so very different from Arya would perceive her in her current state. *