I hauled myself up out of the ditch

Jaime reaches the deck and the silence he finds there is louder than a thunder in the early morning peace: the helmsman is sat at the helm, head bowed and a log between the raggi, as to fix the direction of the boat; another man is lying dead on the floor, near a wineskin whose content had been spilled and had mixed with the red from his face, the same red Jaime saw on his daughter's face.
The third is nowhere to be found, until a piece of tissue swapping on the wind gets his attention and he sees boot covered feet near the bilge. Jaime get closer, the sailor is trying to crawl, he kneels beside him and the man grabs his jacket with his last strength.
"The …wine…poison." He hears from dry lips, just before he man shudders and his eyes get blank.
Jaime tries to free the helm, the boat is pointing at the open sea, he needs to reach solid ground, not back in Dorne, but he does not recognize the coastal line he sees on his right. Whatever, he steers the boat toward it.
-

Gendry follows the maester every morning for a week, carrying his heavy bag around the village and the countyside, they discover other people has white pimples all over their bodies. The master drinks from a vial and offers it to Gendry, who complies, the liquid has a horrible taste.
They returns later and later in the evening, both tired; Arya's task is to collect herbs from the fields, she is alone and some species are very rare, so she spends all her days away. She cooks some soups and feed the exhausted men before retiring for the night, sleeping on a bunch of straws; Gendry offers her his narrow bed and she refuses, he's doing more work, he needs to rest and there is the charged look, the different look he often gives her that makes using his bed a bad idea.
When two villagers die in the space of a morning followed by Lommy, Gendry runs to find Arya.
"You have to leave!" he orders her, desperate and sweating after the effort.
"I won't."
"Lommy is dead! Hot Pie has all the signs. We're at risk!"
Arya tries to protest, Gendry pushes her away, forcing a bundle in her hands. When she opposes, he grabs her shoulder, keeping her at arm's length to make her listen to him.
"Arya, you're all the family I have. You can't risk the infection. I ..I had the hope to marry you someday, but you're a lady and I'm only a bastard, with nothing to offer you."
Her eyes are huge, she's shocked, he overcomes his big fear of refusal, now he don't care anymore because it can be the last time they see each other.
"If we're condemned, I want you to leave. You're fine, you are away from here all day. Men are more ill than women. Walk away, walk West, King's Landing is at a few days' distance."
Arya has no time to reply, Gendry gives her a brief kiss on the forehead, makes her turn and waits until she walks opposite the village.

The boats runs aground on the shore, Jaime jumps into the knee high water with a bag filled hastily – a tunic and breeches, gold coins, bread and dried slices of meat - and the biggest water skin he find on board. The coastal line is quite flat, trees aligned behind the wide pebble beach, it is low tide and the ship is far form the land. It is cold, colder than in Dorne, and he takes for the night a blue cloak found on the deck. A last kiss on Myrcella's forehead, wrapped in his red cloak; in death she will be forever a true lion, not a stag. Her face is a young Cersei, Myrcella is the best thing he created and he gave her away for Cersei's desire of power.
He has no more tears to offer his little girl, except a broken heart.. what if he dared to tell her the truth before, to know earlier she was so glad to have been sired by him and not by a fat and drunk man. For Jaime, Myrcella has never been a bastard, better being a child of love than by a loveless arranged marriage.
The poisoning of his daughter and of the whole crew was planned, he had to be included, too, Jaime is sure now, he touches with a glove the gift he has been given at the pier, a parchment tied out with such strength that a single handed man like him would have used this teeth to unlace the ribbon.
It smells, he takes a tissue to pass over the ribbon and see traces of a dark substance.
No one knows he has escaped the poisoning, the kingslayer can disappear for a while, so he holds a burning torch and looks at the boat one last time before throwing it on the bunch of sails.
Soon flames roar and he hears the wood cracking while he walks away, never turning back.

Arya keeps herself for a few days off from signed paths and avoid villages or towns, she drinks fresh water from streams and eats fruits from low branches, it's the harvest season; once she thinks to kill a rabbit or a squirrel but it will be too dangerous to stake a fire.
Human voices or horses in the distance and she jumps on the best tree around until they fade away.
She misses her friends more than she imagined, meeting them on her way back from Braavos has been a lucky chance, being parted again so soon makes her sad. Are they alive? Can Gendry avoid the disease with the remedy the maester gave him?
The third day she is unlucky, three men with a carriage make camp too close to her hiding place, it is a narrow woodland and she is trapped; she cannot sleep, it is too risky to lower her attention level. She is hungry, too, they roast meat on the fire and her tongue is dry and she hears her stomach rumble.
They leave in the morning, opposite direction, and she breathes in relief, she cannot get home by foot, she needs a proper mount and soon.

Smell of a chimney, sound of hens, a mule, Jaime reaches the end of the trees and nestled between two soft slopes there is sees a hamlet: a small stone building, two wooden ones, a paddock, a pond.
His belly is empty, his clothes dirt, like his face; ha takes off the golden hand, hides it in his bag, pretending to be a lone traveller: he can buy something to eat, leave and continue unnoticed.
People can spot him in the open, so Jaime assumes a humble pose, against his Lannister pride, better relaxed shoulders and low head than the arrogance of a knight.
He's close to the paddock and no human sounds, his steps are loud on the ground, only the mule comes near the fence and bares his teeth, a curious smile, not a menace.
Jaime approaches the entrance door, half open, and announces himself, receiving no answers; he takes a step inside and on a chair close to the table a boy sits with his head absurdly thrown back, mouth open, arms dangling along the torso.
Jaime has seen enough battles to understand he's staring at a dead body.
A quick exploration of the hamlet and he finds three other corpses: a man composed for the mourning, laid on a bench, a woman in a bed and another young man beside the stable, all without traces of slaughtering. No cuts, no wounds, no broken bones; is it poison, or is he too focused on Mycella's death to think otherwise?
A bunch of thieves would have killed, taken the animals, raided the food and probably burned everything to avoid leaving traces, but the horses are in the stable, winter stocks are stored inside the small warehouse, Jaime wants to fill his stomach, but he don't want to touch anything. The pond is home of ducks and fish, easy to catch, so he sets a fire outside and roasts three trout, the most delicious food he has ever tasted; a dead hen hanging from a hook is still fresh and he cooks it to store the meat for later.
Then he puts his glove on, to observe closer the bodies. White pimples on the face, hands, arms, the exposed chest of the first boy reveals more bulges, some are open and yellow sewage has dried around them.
Jaime leaves the paddock gate open, letting the mule and three draft horses reach the fresh grass, he keeps the younger and stronger horse by the bridle, no saddles around, only garments for the wagon; he mounts bareback - a memory of his early years, learning to ride under his father's severe gaze - and head for the hills.