With death rapidly enshrouding him, the young man's body lies in the brush, gutted earlier after angering the two men Nymeria has been following. The smaller man drove the knife into his belly yet he did not see fit to finish him off. Wondering why the man did not end his misery, she creeps closer to investigate.
Sniffing the man, he gasps but is unable to utter a sound. She picks up the scent of fear and the blood of others on him, though not as strong as the other two men carry. Deciding to leave him, she scouts the area south of the camp, picking up a vaguely familiar smell from the other man that left earlier.
Raising her nose, she inhales deeply; the aroma is stronger the farther she travels south into the woods. It is the scent of her human family; sniffing further she distinguishes the odor of the sibling of her little girl; it is the older girl that belonged to her littermate Lady.
Abandoning the two bloodstained men, the older girl's scent drives Nymeria deeper into the Riverlands. Calling to her pack, she continues trekking southward, judiciously following the man's tracks. Soon howling replies echo throughout the forest and the other wolves follow her trail, filling the night air with wolf song.
/
The sharp crisp smell of snow descends over the Riverlands as Sandor and Sansa make their way through the dark wooded canopy of trees. Cautiously avoiding the established trails in an effort to avoid travelers, Sandor scrutinizes their surroundings, ever alert to any changes in the environment.
It has been two days since they left the clan and so far they have seen no trace of anyone. Sandor fears this ominous indication of his brother's presence in the vicinity. He keeps his apprehension to himself however and allows Sansa to enjoy the scenery unburdened by his ever growing trepidation.
Stranger covertly moves through the greenery with cat-like stealth, his footfalls barely audible among the chattering squirrels and warbling songbirds overhead. Smiling, Sansa looks up at Sandor and rubs his arm gently, aware she must remain silent lest the sound of their conversation carry in the still forest.
Secure in her husband's arms, Sansa nestles down closer to Sandor, enjoying the feeling of his broad chest and muscular thighs surrounding her in the saddle. Wearing his light armor, she feels the warmth emanating from his body, the comfort and security lulling her into drowsiness as the miles stretch behind them.
The late afternoon sunlight illuminates their pathway and Sandor rises out of the saddle, breathing in deeply. "Storm's coming, bringing wind and snow," he whispers into her ear, the feeling of his warm breath sending enticing chills through Sansa in spite of their grave situation. "Time to find shelter, Little Bird." Sandor quickly dismounts then lifts Sansa out of the saddle and carefully sets her beside him.
After walking for several miles deeper into the tree line, Sandor spots the mouth of a shallow cave hidden beneath a canopy of moss. Carefully repositioning the greenery to the side, he peers into the opening for several moments before grunting in satisfaction and motioning for Sansa to go inside. As Sandor is about to follow, a snapping twig launches Sandor into battle mode, drawing both swords and glancing around him, ready to attack.
Seeing Braden making his way up the embankment, Sandor heaves a sign of relief before sheathing his weapons. "Expecting someone else?" he chuckles. "I thought as much, which is why I figured I'd better announce myself before you cut my damn head off. Never a smart idea sneaking up on the Hound." Offering his hand, Sandor shakes it warmly, his mouth twitching into a smile. "Glad it's you, Braden."
Peeking out cautiously, Sansa slowly exits the cave, smiling broadly before speaking softly, "We longed to say goodbye to you as we left the clan. I am so happy you found us. Tierney said you were on an important errand but we sorely missed you just the same."
Glancing sideways at Sandor, he takes Sansa's small hand into his own. "Did you now? Well, I am happy to see you again my dear." Sandor's eyes narrow at Braden, who nods once in acknowledgement, understanding he does not wish to Braden to say anything that may upset Sansa. She is still weak from her illness and Sandor can't bear to upset her in her fragile state.
Sansa does not witness this exchange as she gathers their provisions for their evening meal. "Did you finish your business? It is about to snow, I hope your errand will not detain you further. Please join us, won't you?" Sansa smiles, gesturing for him to get down.
"Ah, lass my business is just about finished at that. I am headed back to the camp; I am used to the weather and will not tarry, thank you my dear. Might I trouble you for a moment with your husband alone?"
"Of course. Please don't leave without saying goodbye." Sansa smiles before turning and going back into the cave. When she heard Tierney mention Braden was on an important errand as they departed, she suspected it may have something to do with Gregor. Sansa has allowed Sandor to believe she is oblivious to this piece of information and Sandor seems more at ease imagining she is unaware of the risk. For now she will allow him this small consolation, he will need all of his concentration in the upcoming days when the time comes to confront his brother.
Warily watching Sansa, Braden dismounts and Sandor quickly draws him closer. "Have you seen my brother?" Nodding Braden frowns, running the toe of his boot in circles over the damp earth. "I saw that son of a bitch and Polliver, too. They tied me and the other man with me to our saddles and questioned us about your whereabouts; he asked about your wife as well. I thought he was going to kill me there for a bit but settled on keeping the other man instead."
Sandor sighs deeply, surprised but happy his brother chose not to kill Braden. "Big risk you took, letting him catch you that way." Grinning, Braden starts to shake his head as Sandor interrupts him. "Don't deny it you old fox; a shadow cat couldn't sneak up on you. Who's the man he kept? He's in for a time with Polliver, you know."
Clearing his throat, Braden chuckles, "The man Tierney sent along was one of our camp prisoners; he raped several of our women and killed their husbands a month or so back. After she had been so ill we didn't want to scare Sansa so we were waiting until you left to execute him. When this situation came up Tierney figured that a better punishment for that miserable snake would be handing him over to Gregor."
"He would have fared better against your ax, Braden. You and Tierney are a pair of shrewd old foxes, I'll give you that." Sandor slaps him on the back, laughing harshly. Turning serious, Braden leans in closer. "Try as they might, they'll never get anything out of him. That bastard was locked up in stocks long before you arrived; he never even saw the two of you."
Pausing, Braden rests his hand on Sandor's shoulder. "I called Gregor's bluff and Sandor, he's so fired up thinking of getting his hands on your wife he let me go without a second thought; it goes without saying that he isn't normally so easily caught off guard. You watch your back, man; Gregor's blood is up and meaner than ever-I've never seen him like he is now. Makes me regret I didn't kill him years ago."
Grunting low Sandor nods solemnly. "Braden, you be careful now and get back to the clan as fast as you can. Gregor could be anywhere in these woods." Sticking his thumb out, Braden gestures behind him. "Gregor and Polliver are about a day's ride behind me, maybe more depending on the other man. You'll get your chance at him soon enough. I'm riding through the night and bringing some men back with me."
Sandor starts to shake his head but Braden holds up his hand. "I won't accept refusals. That pretty little lass of yours is a kind gentle creature and doesn't deserve to lose her husband or be ravaged by Gregor-so for once just shut up and take the help offered, will you Sandor?"
Grinning, Sandor reaches up and shakes his hand. "Aye, just this once." Braden glances over at the cave a moment, then speaks low, "One more thing I ought to mention-these hills are full of wolves. The pack must be fifty strong, maybe more and has been following Gregor and Polliver. Never seen anything like it."
"It's the scent of blood they're no doubt carrying," Sandor shrugs. "No, no it's something else, something I've never seen the likes of around here. A huge direwolf bitch is leading the pack." Braden eyes Sandor, who is visibly taken aback at the mention of a direwolf.
"The Starks, you know the direwolf is their sigil-Sansa and her siblings kept them as pets. Sansa's sister had one but ended up turning it loose on the King's Road to keep Robert from killing it for attacking his son." Raising his eyebrows, Braden shakes his head. "With winter coming, lots of things are happening I have no explanation for. You watch yourself, Sandor."
No longer hearing the sound of their voices, Sansa looks out to see Braden about to mount his horse. Running up to him, she wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug. "Goodbye Braden, I thank you for your friendship and kindness to us both. I hope we will meet again." Startled, Braden smiles down at her, "You can count on it, lass. You watch yourself and take care to stay well now."
"And you too, Braden," Sandor calls. Pulling himself into the saddle, Braden grins, "Goodbye Cleganes!" Waving once more he turns his horse, riding off into the dusky afternoon.
After eating their evening meal, Sansa and Sandor huddle close under the furs. The faint sound of wolf song fills the night air, rousing Sandor from sleep. Drawing his sword, he sneaks a quick look around outside the cave; from the position of the moon he figures it is in the third phase, dawn will arrive shortly. "See anything?" Sansa asks dreamily. "No but they're getting closer I think."
"I hope so," Sansa whispers. "You want those fucking wolves closer?" Sandor asks incredulously. Sitting up, Sansa takes his hands in hers, a tranquil expression coming over her face. "I know you do not believe in the gods and I understand your reluctance to put faith in many things," she pauses, drawing a deep breath. "But you know that I do have faith in them and that I am devoted to both the old gods and the new. There are many things in Westeros that I do not pretend to understand-like the Targaryen dragon princess, the White Walkers as well as the red priestess with Stannis Baratheon."
Reluctantly Sandor nods, remembering him and Gregor laughed scornfully when Robert told them he wanted men sent to kill the young Targaryen girl. Despite successfully defeating her family in the past, Robert was unwilling to discount the potential threat of her return to Westeros. A once powerful man of battle himself, Robert's decisive action in the face of so little apparent threat left a lasting impression on Sandor.
Ever since he was burned, Sandor has held no gods and openly derided those who did. Though he openly disparages the gods there remains a part of him that is inquisitive and in moments of desperation he has called on them for Sansa's sake. Sandor's curiosity about them continues to grow stronger as the long foretold winter draws ever closer.
In Winterfell he heard stories of the undead White Walkers and many men he met stated one only needed to go north of the Wall to become a firm believer in their existence. There many things for which Sandor has no rational explanation either and as a man who has spent a lifetime in battle he finds it most disconcerting to know there are unseen threats for which he is unable to prepare.
Sansa's bastard brother Jon is rumored to have discovered the wights weakness for obsidian blades, a helpful piece of information Sandor has tucked away should the need to fight such creatures arise as he and Sansa travel north. Having witnessed the Stark children interact with their direwolves at Winterfell, Sandor has no logical rationalization for the intimate connection he witnessed between them. When Lancel Lannister claimed Robb Stark had a pack of wolves fighting with him against Joffrey, Sandor was inclined to believe him, though at the time he was not prepared to openly acknowledge such a phenomena.
Observing the serenity in Sansa's eyes sparks his curiosity all the more about her experience with her beloved direwolf. "Tell me about your pet direwolf, Little Bird." Startled, Sansa's eyes light up and a bright smile spreads across her face; she has always refrained from discussing such things with him, fearing he would mock her.
His willingness to discuss this with her thrills her so she readily curls up in his arms as she begins to speak. "My direwolf was like a sister to me-her name was Lady and she was beautiful and kind and gentle." Sansa smiles to herself before her eyes darken with grief.
"I remember you cried the entire way to King's Landing after King Robert had her put down." Bowing her head, Sansa nods sadly. "It was like losing a family member. You may find it hard to understand Sandor but wolves are a part of the Starks much like dogs are to Cleganes. They are loyal and protective and my siblings and I view them as family. Hearing their wolf song makes me feel safe and reminds me of Winterfell-of home."
Sighing deeply, Sandor listens to her with intense apprehension. How can he make her see that pets are one thing and wolves that live in the forest are quite another? Already he is tiring of her apparent unwillingness to comprehend the obvious danger confronting them. Choosing his words carefully he mutters, "I know you kept them as pets and all Little Bird but these are wild wolves damn it-we must be vigilant out here in the woods."
Pulling him close, she draws him back under the covers with her. "They are here to help us, Sandor-my father assured me of it in my dreams." Fuck me, not her dreams again, he sighs to himself while Sansa watches him closely, trying to gauge his response. Sandor reluctantly accepts her belief in the gods but wrestles with tolerating the blind faith she places in them.
Turning away from her, he struggles to contain his derision, not wanting to engage her in a contentious disagreement at such a time. "Where were the gods when he cried out to them for help as Gregor held his face over the brazier?" His mind screams. "Where were the Warrior and the Maiden when Gregor raped and murdered his way across the Riverlands and Casterly Rock? What kind of gods allows his monstrous brother anointed as a knight with their blessing?" Choking down his words, bitterness nevertheless seeps into Sandor's voice as he tries to patiently wait for her to continue. "Go on, please tell me about the dream."
Reassured he will not mock her, Sansa readily relates the nightmare; Sandor listens closely, amazed at the intricate detail she is able to recall and the intensity of her emotions; he has never been able to recall very much from any of his dreams. Ned told her Gregor would be defeated by a direwolf? That he and Sansa will not die for many years yet-and that they will have children despite her illness? Perhaps Sansa's premonition is the same special sense that Mother often said women possess…
"Sandor, Father showed me the error of my ways and how wrong I was for doubting your ability to defeat Gregor. He made me see that if we are to truly live as husband and wife I must trust you." Sandor glances at her out of the corner of his eye, unwilling to concede there may be a measure of truth in her dreams. Sansa's words are so full of sincerity, her eyes plead with him to understand and she reaches out and squeezes his hand. "I know you think I have lost my senses and that you may not believe in such things but please try not to worry. Come back to bed with me my love."
Staring at her incredulously for several long moments, he decides to let her words rest for the night-there will be plenty of time to meditate on them during their travels. If she feels safer believing such rubbish, he will not begrudge her desire to do so. Reluctantly he climbs into the furs beside her and after lying awake for a while worrying a on her strange words, Sandor falls back into a sound sleep.
/
Gasping loudly, Arya sits bolt upright out of a sound sleep. Drenched in a cold sweat, her heart is pounding so hard she is afraid it will jump out of her chest. Though it is not yet daylight, she hears the guards stirring outside the barracks and rises up when the door opens softly. Stealthily, Jaqen slips inside, carefully pulling the lever down just enough to stop anyone from entering before making his way over to her with a grin. Sitting beside her on the bunk, he studies her face with concern. "Lovely girl, have you once more been disturbed by the same dream?"
Sighing, Arya rubs her eyes. "Yes and its getting worse. How did you know?" Smiling, he pats her leg. "A man has ways, and friends may help each other, yes?" Smiling, Arya begins relating her dream. "Last night it was the same dream but with more detail-I could see my sister and she was wearing a blue dress with her hair loose around her shoulders, longer than I remember. I smelled the fear pouring off of her-she had tears running down her cheeks as she scrambled away from Gregor. I felt such rage that I leapt onto his back and this time I felt my paws make contact with his armor and my claws digging into Gregor's body."
Jaqen places a hand on her shoulder and closes his eyes. "Yes, a man senses it. Is there more a girl may tell?" Arya hesitates before continuing, "I…I could not let him hurt her! I was desperate so I bit down deep into his neck! Jaqen, this time I could feel my teeth sink into his flesh and taste his blood and feel his screams vibrating into my throat." Panic rises in her voice. "Please Jaqen tell me-what does this mean? Has Gregor already hurt my sister?"
Taking her small hands in his, Jaqen kneels beside her and closes his eyes, meditating for several long moments as he holds her. Drawing in a deep breath, he turns and looks into her eyes thougtfully. "The future you dream of has drawn near-the time is at hand for your sister and Gregor to meet in the forest."
Arya begins shaking violently, her mind racing with fear, "What can we do? Please Jaqen!" Pausing, he takes her hand once more in his. "Lie back down and let the dream come to you once more. When you are there, let loose the direwolf within you and you will protect your sister and her husband. Call to the other wolves to help you-use the strength given to you as the direwolf in the dream to protect her. It is vital that a girl holds nothing back-fight as one with the direwolf and together you will succeed in saving her-this a girl can do."
Blinking in surprise, Arya nods slowly with comprehension. "Do you know if I will succeed, Jaqen?" Chuckling, he pats her hand. "Much depends on a girl believing in her own strength." Taking in several deep breaths, Arya lies back down and repeats Syrio Forel's teachings out loud and Jaqen soon joins her. "Swift as a deer. Quiet as shadow. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake. Calm as still water. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear. Fierce as a wolverine. Fear cuts deeper than swords. The man who fears losing has already lost."
Smiling, Jaqen stands to leave. "Remember what your dancing master taught you. A man will be waiting for your return, Arya Stark." Wondering how he knows her name, Arya gapes as she watches him leave, hearing his soft laugh as he closes the door. Lying back on her bunk, she suddenly feels a spirit of courage and power flowing through her-in her heart she knows it is the of the spirit of the Starks and their direwolves joining with that of Syrio Forel and his teachings strengthening her, hardening her resolve and mettle. "I will kill Gregor," she repeats to herself. Fierce and indomitable, Arya closes her eyes and waits, prepared to conquer Gregor in her dreams with all her might.