Chapter 10.

It was almost dark when the first soldiers appeared in the background. Most of them were sitting in their saddle, with their chest bending above their four-legged companions as if they had already been sleeping. Even the horses seemed to be exhausted, ambling slowly, and there was no joyful singing about victory and homecoming from the members of the small army.

Sansa stood there, impatiently, greeting each of them with a soft blessing, while counting them one by one. As the minutes and the people were passing in front of her, she became more and more nervous, the cold night was holding her and her throat tighter than before, despite the thick fur coats and skirts, and her impatience was torturing her like a strong stomach-ache. Somehow deep inside her heart, she felt that something was wrong but she tried hard to push those bad feelings away because she didn't want to lose her faith or her calmness in front of others.

When the last man and his horse entered the gate, she sighed sadly: they had lost sixteen men, three of them were old, experienced warriors, who had fought beside her father. And at the same moment she felt like being struck: Sandor Clegane was not among the returning people!

- Ser Thomas! – she cried, looking around.

The man had already jumped off his horse and he was giving orders to the boys how to feed and wash the horses carefully, but now he hurried to her. He was one of the three men who were sitting on their horse, with their back straight, as if they had been attending a royal ceremony. He was dead tired but his service to his Queen was almost the first.

- Lady Stark!

Sansa tried to stay calm and not to show her growing anxiety.

Ser Thomas was her closest friend, they had known each other for such a long time, they had fought together and they had shared many secrets, but she didn't want him to know about her emotions for Sandor. It was something she didn't want to share with anyone, not even with her sister and she was sure that he would have disapproved her choice – not if she had cared much about it.

- Did Sandor Clegane die?

He looked at her totally surprised and puzzled.

- The Hound? I do not think so.

He didn't want to add that even the Death would find it quite troublesome if he tried to kill the Hound. He must be almost in his early fifties but he still fights and rides like a demon and he is still fuelled by amazing amount of hatred and madness I had never seen in anyone else, Ser Thomas thought.

Sansa returned his glance with more curiosity and demand.

- Then where is he?

He shook his head cluelessly.

- I really have no idea, my Lady. He was on the back of the army when we left for Winterfell but to tell the truth, I didn't give much attention on him since then.

- Are you sure that he was there?

- Totally sure.

- Then why isn't he here now?

Ser Thomas took a small bow as a sigh of apology.

- I am sorry, Lady Stark, but I don't know. I think I still saw him after our departure, when we first stopped for a short rest by the river, but I am not sure now. I wasn't paying attention on him – I had enough things to do.

Sansa felt as if an icy hand had grabbed her breath.

- Who buried our dead?

- It was me and the Huggle boys.

- Didn't you happen to find his body?

Ser Thomas shook his head with determination.

- We searched through the field carefully and we counted our people. The number was full before we left for home. I saw him alive. I saw him at the end of the row when we left for Winterfell. That is all I know for sure. I am sorry to disappoint you, Lady Stark, but I really have no idea where the Hound is now. Maybe he has just left forever. It would be a great idea.

Sansa didn't reply to these sarcastic remarks.

- So there was no fight during your way back home.

Ser Thomas tried hard to hide his annoyance. Most of the times he was a really calm man, but now he felt he was getting annoyed. He didn't understand why the Hound was so important for her and why he was still the topic of their conversation.

- No, my lady, no more fights. Our enemies have gone, at least for a while. We had a long but a completely peaceful journey back to Winterfell.

Sansa left him without a sound and walked back to the kitchen. She checked carefully that enough hot dishes and wine were available for the soldiers, she ordered to check on the fires every half an hour then she went to her room.

She was sitting in the window, staring at the gate, still hiding deep into her fur coat. Even though the happily cracking fire, she was shivering.

Where was Sandor? Where could he have been? Ser Thomas was sure that he was alive and he was with the rest of the company after the battle finished. Then why didn't he return to Winterfell? He seemed to enjoy his time here, she remembered, he didn't have to fight but he had things to do, so he could feel himself useful here. As the moments passed by, she became sadder and more nervous. She didn't blame Ser Thomas for not paying enough attention on Sandor, but she wanted answers.

It was almost two o' clock after midnight, when suddenly the gate opened with a loud whining sound and a huge figure rode in. When Sansa saw him, she knew exactly who it was and she ran out of her room as quickly as she could, down to the yard, without thinking. Her heart was beating in her throat so loudly and strongly that she was feeling suffocating.

- Where have you been? – she shouted at Sandor while hurrying to him along the corridor, down the staircase. This time she didn't much care about caution and secrets, and about not waking her people up.

Sandor Clegane jumped off his horse with a big grin on his dark, dirty face. He smoothed his trousers carefully, then looked down at her completely calmly.

- Were you worried about me, little bird?

Sansa tried hard to catch her breath and finally to behave as a queen and not as a worried little girl. She stood straight and elegantly, trying to arrange her features into a relaxed expression though she knew well how useless it was.

- I was. Where have you been?

He seemed to be extremely amused by her questions, her breathless voice, all the little things that revealed her true emotions - his grin became wider.

- Do you think you are my wife or what the hell?

Now Sansa lost her patience and for a moment she didn't care about keeping her secret or her queenlike behaviour. She stepped closer to him and slapped his upper arm angrily.

- Should I be your wife in order to have the permission to worry about you?

Sandor looked at her with dark eyes and a kind of threat both in his voice and in his glance on her. The cheerful grin disappeared and he seemed to have turned into a completely different man.

- Calm down, woman, before I slap you.

Sansa wanted to reply with a „try it if you dare" but her courteousness won over her fury. Somehow his dark glance cooled her down. She put her hands behind her back and bowed her head a little.

- I am sorry for slapping you, ser.

Saying sorry was quite far from him now. His expression did not become smoother, neither did his raspy voice.

- I am not a ser.

Sansa couldn't enjoy his homecoming completely because she could see how angry he had just become and she worried a little about revealing her emotions for him away. He mustn't know about how I feel for him, she thought, while wondering how she could make him calm down.

- May I ask where you have been? I was worried about you, I was afraid that you had fallen into a trap of the Boltons or got injured.

Sandor's voice sounded merciless and cool – his eyes on her expressed the same coldness. Now he didn't seem to be that man who had been in love with her.

- None of these happened. The Boltons are dead, just as their supporters. Your kingdom is free from this shit. I simply wanted to ride a little, to clear my head, to be away from people and noise. I am a free man, not a fucking slave, as far as I know.

Watching him, sadness and disappointment were hiding on her lips and they were slightly suffocating her.

It must have happened another way, she thought, but it is my fault that I had imagined him come home, feel happy to see me, hold me in his arms, kiss me with the passion he fights and curses, and all the romantic stupid ideas that we used to read and sing about when we were young girls. She felt herself really stupid this time, both because of her high hopes and her behaviour.

- Of course you are a free man, you are not mistaken. I am really glad to hear that you have not injured in the battle.

Sandor laughed loudly for a moment but there was no mirth in that laugh.

- Those were only a bunch of stupid rats, nothing serious.

- They were dangerous.

- Maybe for little girls but not for me.

Sansa felt that it was useless to stay any longer and that at the same time it was completely impolite to keep such an exhausted man out in the snow, who must have been very cold and hungry as well – especially not ignoring the fact that he did not want to be with her.

- I am sorry for keeping you awake. Good night, Ser Sandor. – she said coolly, but tenderly, trying to hide her emotions.

She knew that it was quite bad-mannered not to wait for his answer but she had enough of herself and her romantic ideas. She hurried back into her room quickly, with as much elegance as possible, while Sandor Clegane was still standing there, following her with his dark eyes, and when she was out of reach, he said softly:

- Good night, Lady Stark.

That familiar nasty grin reappeared on his face.