CHAPTER 13

SANSA

In the morning Sansa lay in bed long after she had woken up, her blue eyes staring blankly at the grey sky.

Sandor came to one knee beside her and spoke softly. "Are you ready to get up?"

"Mmm," she frowned at him and turned over.

"We shouldn't stay in any one place for too long."

She could tell he was making an effort to be gentle with her. He probably feels guilty for telling me about Robb. Tyrion had spared her that when he brought her the news of her brother's and her mother's deaths, but Sandor was not the type of man to keep things from her. Hearing about Robb's death had been like getting a dose of medicine to remind her that their lives were at stake. The Hound was cruel, but he was honest, stalwart, and resourceful. He was everything she needed. It made her feel weak to think that Sandor found her stronger than she found herself, so she forced herself to get up and get dressed.

She felt him watching her when she pulled herself onto Lady, but he didn't help her up. She could do that on her own, at least. The air was too dry for rain or snow, but Sansa pulled her fox fur hood closer around her face all the same. It would hide her if she started to cry again.

She doubted she would have the energy. She was tired, depressed, and dirty. She had never pushed herself this hard before. Worse, she had never been so long without a bath. Her skin was grimy and her scalp itched. Her clothes were no longer the same color as when she first put them on, and her cloak had a dark stain on the hood and shoulders from the dye running out of her hair. It hadn't rained since they left the open meadow of the Vale, but whenever there was snow or moisture in the air some of the dark brown color washed out and now her hair was the two-toned color of rotting wheat.

She would have given anything for a bath, but there were no inns out here in the woodlands. They followed the river until it became an estuary where birds came to rest, every species' call heard over the rhythm of the sea. Rocks near the mouth of the river kept the fresh water flowing into the pool, and the flow out to the ocean was blocked by a sandbar at low tide. They were hidden by the trees behind them, the beachy hills raised around the pool, and the sun was a flaming orange ball on their right.

This pool was like an answer to her prayers. "Oh, Sandor," she sighed with longing. "Couldn't we stop here?"

"You want to take a bath?"

"Yes!"

"Okay. Hobble the horses, and I'll make a fire."

Sansa was elated that they were going to have a fire. After traveling with Sandor she had the impression he would rather not have one even when they could, so she was glad that he finally offered to make one. She wouldn't be as cold as she would have otherwise once she finished her bath. She hobbled the horses among the leafless trees to graze on whatever shoots and saplings they could find, and Sandor chopped a tree down with his axe. When she came back to the pool the wood was in a pile, but still not burning, and Sandor was taking off his clothes.

"Aren't we going to have a fire?" she asked.

"I'll make it when I get out." He pulled off the tunic he wore beneath his chainmail, exposing the burns and scars on his torso and the hard muscles beneath the skin.

"Oh, all right." She turned away from him, a little embarrassed that she had stood by watching him take off his shirt, and rummaged for the bar of soap at the bottom of her bag. She took this with her to the pool and left her comb and a fresh set of clothes on top of her bag for when she got out.

Sandor was dunking his head in the pool. When he surfaced, he tossed his head back and shook the water droplets from it in a wide arc. Sansa stood by uncertainly, wondering if she should get in with him, but he was already getting out.

Septa Mordane had told her that all men are beautiful, and even though Sansa had always thought of the Hound as ugly, she could see that this was true of him as well. He was muscled like a bull, with a broad chest, thick neck, and strong arms made as firm as the steel they lifted. She wondered if she would even be able to wrap her hands around his biceps. Water dripped off of him, and his sculpted stomach sat hard between the two lines of his hips. A third line, this one of curly hair, pointed with the others like an arrow to the patch between his legs, and beneath that his penis hung limp and wrinkled.

Sansa realized she was staring and brought her eyes up to meet his, and much to her embarrassment saw her gaze had not escaped him. He passed her with a bemused smile on his face, but mercifully without comment.

Stupid. So stupid, she berated herself. What would he think of her now that he'd caught her staring at his penis? She would rather not think about it. She lifted her dress over her head, peeled off her smallclothes, and got in the water.

It was cold, but Sansa had learned to swim in the moat that surrounded Winterfell so she quickly got used to it. She swam from one end of the pool to the other to warm herself up, and then she came back to the shallow end, her feet seeking the muddy bottom to plant herself. She rubbed the soap over her body to get the grime off. She massaged her scalp and finger-combed her hair, using the soap to clean it. At the Eyrie she'd washed her hair with a dark brick to keep it brown, but now the dye was rinsing out along with the dirt.

Sandor started dinner over the fire, dried off and got dressed without a glance at Sansa, but now that he was done he came over to sit by the pool and sharpen his sword. Sansa crouched on her knees with her chin above the water and eyed him unappreciatively.

"Are you just going to sit there?" she asked once she was done washing herself.

"Mmhmm." His eyes followed the whetstone down the blade, but Sansa wasn't fooled.

"You're going to watch me when I get out!"

He laughed. "It's only fair. You watched me."

I should have known he would tease me worse than usual when he didn't say anything. She sank deeper into the water. It was cold, but her face felt hot. She wanted to get out now.

"You could at least bring me something to dry off with," she scolded him. And cover myself.

Sandor put his blade down and picked up her wool cloak. "I've got it right here."

"Give it to me."

"Come and get it."

He stared at her meanly. She tried to think of something to do. Well, I'm not going to just sit here so he can have a laugh at my expense. It wasn't such a big deal if he saw her naked, she decided. Most of the time they slept together naked or in just their smallclothes, and he'd probably seen most of what she had to hide already anyway. With this new resolve, Sansa used her hands to cover herself as best she could, and rose up out of the water.