Sansa jumped down from the sorrel steed. A scream built in her chest but died before reaching her lips. Oh, how she longed to scream, to descend into hysterics, but that would do not good. Fear was a luxury she couldn't afford.

The cowardly beast bolting the moment she feet touched the muddy ground, the reins ripped viciously from her grip. White hot burst of pain in her left hand, but, but she didn't care. The pain didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to Theon.

What she'd seen still didn't fully seem real, even as she wrapped her arms beneath Theon's and sank with him to the ground, unable to keep him upright. The tip of the spear that had burst through his chest, cutting his words off mid promise. How could this happen? They were supposed to escape. He was supposed to find a second horse and be right behind her. He'd been by her side through so much, she couldn't lose him now.

Ghost let out a low growl, brushing close to her with his warm, comforting presence, before crouching protectively at their side, his red eyes narrowed and scanning the surroundings in constant vigilance.

Theon's hot blood, splattered on her face, cooled even at hot tears joined them. Her gut felt sick and hollow. She had been baptized more thoroughly than any of the Iron Island's drowned men, but her's was a baptism of blood, the blood of her would be protectors. So many had bled for her, died for her, died because of her. It no longer left her stunned and immovable in the face of disaster. She was no longer a little bird in a cage. She had grown. Her broken wings had healed. And though Theon's blood had been added to the list of her protectors, she would not allow his life to join his blood. By the gods, she wouldn't let him die for her... Because of her.

"Sansa." He choked on his shock.

She shook her head to quiet him, she remembered that talking was supposed to make such things worse. "It's okay. It's not so bad."

She knew that was a lie, but she thought or maybe hoped that it was perhaps only a little lie. After all, from what she knew of the body, it could be worse. She was no maester, but she knew the heart was on the left and the spear was protruding from his chest on the right and high. She thought it might have missed his vital organs… at least she hoped.

She moved her hands to the spear pull it out, but Theon stopped her.

"Leave it. It will bleed less if it stays in." He explained.

She nodded, glad to be spared the task. She thought her hands might have been shaking too hard to do it without causing further damage.

Theon place his hand over hers, the weight of it, calming some of the shaking.

"Now go." Theon ordered, his voice low and raspy from the effort, but firm.

"I won't leave you."

His grip tightened on her arm. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm never going to leave you." She snapped. Stupid little bird. Well, maybe she was stupid, but she'd rather be stupid and stand for those things she believed in and beside the people she loved than be as clever and hollow as all her poisonous teachers in Kings Landing. There were worse things than having a head full of songs and a heart full of love. She would give all she had to go back to before she'd ever laid eyes on King Robert and the Lannister's. What good would it be to survive the dead if they were all as cold and dead on the inside as the monsters they fought? She wanted more than that. For what remained of her people. For what remained of her family. For herself.

She wanted to have something of herself left when this was over, or what was the point?

"I promised to get you to the Iron Islands." Theon winced, pale with pain. "Let me keep this one oath."

"Then keep it." Sansa snapped. "Deliver me yourself."

"Sansa…"

"No."

Theon leveled her with a searching gaze for a long moment before nodding.

"No." He agreed.

"Can you stand?" She asked.

Theon took a pained breath and tried to push himself up, but winced and sank back against her.

"Not far."

She nodded, scanning their surroundings. There was no sign of whatever ungodly creature that had thrown the spear. She didn't fool herself into thinking that meant they were safe, but safe for now.

"We need to get you somewhere safe."

"No where is safe," Theon reminded her. "If you wont leave me, then stop wasting time. Go and find a horse. Just one. Riding double will be slower, but I couldn't manage on my own anyway."

"One horse." Sansa agreed.

"Do you have dragon glass?" Theon asked.

She held out the knife that felt ridiculously small as her only weapon against such a great and terrible enemy.

Theon gave a small jerk of his head that must have been the closest thing to a nod he could manage as the initial shock wore away leaving the unchecked pain.

She desperately wanted to hug him goodbye for what she prayed wouldn't be the last time, to hold him tightly and let him squeeze the fear from her, but she thought better of it and brush a kiss against his forehead. "I'll be back."

Ghost rose to follow, but she knelt beside him and stroked his head with her unharmed hand.

"Stay with Theon."

"No." Theon protested.

She met his gaze. "I couldn't focus on the task at hand if I left you defenseless. Ghost stays."

Theon looked very much like he wanted to argue further, but said nothing. He did, however, give her a look that very much reminded her of the one she imagined Jon would level her with if he was in Theon's place. One that was equal parts adoration and frustration.

Jon... Her heart ached at the thought of him. Were they fairing any better back at Winterfell? Somehow, she doubted it. But perhaps upon the back of a dragon, Jon was safer than the rest. She liked to think as much. She pushed down the worry that made her eyes sting with emotion. She couldn't afford to think too much about the love she'd left behind. She had to trust. Trust that they would find their way back to each other like they had before.

"I'll be back." She promised as she turned and left.

She picked her way through the abandoned carts, her every sense on high alert. The night had grown quiet and smooth that was even more unsettling than the screams and sounds of chaos and death. Where were the dead? Where they, even now, standing just beyond her field of vision, watching her with dead and glowing eyes? The thought sent an uneasy chill down her spine.

She didn't have the time or energy to indulge in overactive imaginings. Instead, she tightened her grip on the dragon glass blade and crept from cart to cart.

She strained her hearing, praying desperately for a nervous nicker to lead her in the right direction. She didn't want to stray to far from Ghost and Theon, but she knew she couldn't go back empty handed. Either she found a horse or none of them would get out of this alive.

She crept on, trying not to think about the people who had been in the empty carts not so very long ago. How many had died? How many were even now cowering for cover, holding shaking breaths in the desperate and bleak hope that death would pass them by this night.

She had led them straight into slaughter. Had she chosen the wrong path? Or, was there no road that lead through the long night that didn't lead to a terrible end?

A breathy, skittish wicker caught her ear and tears brimmed up in her ears at the blessed sound. She quickened her pace in the direction of the sound.

She stopped when she found the very steed that had abandoned her, reins now caught on a cart.

"You're a great fool, aren't you," She snapped, despite herself as she worked to untangle the reigns. Her wounded hand, something was likely broken from the look of it, would not cooperate, so she placed the blade between her teeth and worked on the reins with her good hand until they came loose. "Come now, and no more foolishness. We stand a better chance together."

Gods, what was she coming too? Talking to a horse like it would understand her. She supposed it helped to think of the beast as a rational creature, one that could be reasoned with, instead of a skittish beast that was more likely to trample her. She was sure she would be more than happy to never ride again for the rest of her life if she made it out of this.

The horse stopped and began pulling back. It let out a sound of panic that Sansa could only describe as a scream.

"Settle." She soothed, trying to calm the animal, but it reared, tossing it's great head in panic. She released the reins, rather than risk her remaining good hand and the cursed beast once again bolted. She was tempted to yell after it, but her current situation cooled her temper.

Though it was the chittering that came from behind her that turned her blood to ice.


Because I'm sure we're all losing our minds a little, I wanted to surprise you guys with a quick update this time around (sorry to say that this should not be expected to become the norm, I just happened to have a little extra time and managed to finish up the chapter). I know many of you have been desperate for an update on Sansa. Unfortunately, it's out of the frying pan and into the fire!... or should I say ice?

Please review!