When we last saw the Hound, he was lying wounded on the ground. But in fact, Sandor Clegane had survived his injuries. A septon named Ray had found him and healed him, and now the Hound lived in Ray's village.
Today he was working with a group of villagers, helping to build a sept. The men were carrying huge logs to the construction site. It took three or four guys to lift each one, but the Hound was so strong that he could carry a log by himself.
After a few hours, they stopped for lunch. Most of the workers gathered around a fire to eat, but the Hound sat off to the side by himself. No one would go near him, except for Ray.
"Some of the men seem to be a little afraid of you," Ray said to the Hound.
Sandor shrugged. "I'm used to it."
"When I found you, I thought you'd been dead for days," Ray continued. "You were stinkin' already, an' ya had bugs all over ya. I reckoned you were gonna die by the time I loaded you on the wagon, but you didn't. I reckoned you'd die a dozen more times over the next few days, but you didn't. What kept you goin'?"
"Hate," the Hound replied.
Ray said, "There's plenty of pious sons of bitches who think they know the word of God, or gods. I don't; I don't even know their real names. Maybe it is the Seven, or maybe it's the old gods, or maybe it's the Lord of Light. Or maybe they're all the same fuckin' thing. I don't know. What matters, I believe, is that there's something greater than us, an' whatever it is has got plans for Sandor Clegane."
"If the gods are real, why haven't they punished me?" the Hound asked.
"Maybe they already have," Ray said.
Just then, three guys from the Brotherhood Without Banners arrived. One of them was Lem Lemoncloak. But they were not following Lois's orders anymore. They had gone rogue.
"'And over all your valuables, an' there won't none of you get hurted," Lem demanded.
"We have nothing to give you," Ray told him. "No horses, gold, or weapons, only rest."
"All right," said Lem. "We'll be on our way, then. Stay safe. The night is dark, and full of terrors." He and the other two guys left.
"I think that was a threat!" said the Hound. "They're gonna come back and attack us! We've got to be prepared to fight them!"
"My fighting days are over," said Ray. "Earlier, yes, earlier I was a sellsword. Back then, I was willing to commit atrocious acts of violence. Even killed a boy in front of his own mother once. But I'm done with that. I've vowed to dedicate the rest of my life to helping others. I'm done with fighting."
"Even if it's to protect yourself?" the Hound asked.
"Violence is a disease," Ray said. "You don't cure it by spreading it to other people."
In exasperation, the Hound decided to go off into the woods to cut more firewood, saying that it would be a cold night. Ray offered to save some of the ale from dinner for him.
But when the Hound came back that evening, he found the building site sacked, and Ray and the other villagers slain. Ray had been hung from the rafters of the unfinished sept.
Sandor Clegane picked up an axe that was lying on the ground and headed off.
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Bertram had come to Winterfell to see Ramsay. "My name is Bertram," he told him. "I have something important to tell you. Stewie and Brian Griffin are raising an army to attack you and take back Winterfell. They're trying to recruit all the northern lords. They've vowed to slay you."
"Hmmm, well, that's nothing new," said Ramsay. "There's lots of people that would like to slay me. But why should you dash all the way here to tell me this?"
"Because I hate Stewie and Brian too. Let me join you, and I'll help you kill them. And look, a brought you a gift!" Bertram held the flashlight high.
"A flashlight?" Ramsay scoffed. "What good is that gonna do me?"
"It's not just a flashlight. It can make anything bigger or smaller. Watch!" And Bertram pointed the flashlight at a nearby table. He shrank it down to the size of a matchbox, and regrew it back to its proper size again.
"Well, this looks like it could come in handy," said Ramsay. "Welcome to the team, Bertram."
