I'm going to try to post two chapters a week because I realized there is no way I am going to finish the story by the time frame I have set for myself if I don't. (Me from years in the future: LOL what? That didn't turn out did it. Note to self: Slow and steady, just keep swimming!) Writing these chapters felt like I was slogging through the mud along with Sandor and Sansa! Hopefully things will go smoother from here for all of us.

CHAPTER 17

SANSA

Sansa busied herself around the camp. The pot of water on the cooking fire was boiling so she stirred grain into it for their breakfast, found apples in the food sack and cut them into wedges. She set the stems and cores aside to give to the horses. She was trying to distract herself from her feelings, without much success.

She had been curious, but watching the horses had left her with a tingling feeling. Or maybe it was from sitting next to Sandor. She pushed the thought from her mind. She sat next to him all the time. She must have seen dogs or horses mating when she was growing up in Winterfell, but she couldn't remember. Certainly she had not paid as much attention as she did this morning. It seemed to her the strangest thing, but to the animals it seemed natural. Enjoyable, even. She wondered why they didn't do it more often, but knew it had something to do with it being Lady's time. She didn't really understand it. The only part she thought she knew about was the romantic stuff, like kissing, and Sandor had laughed at her. Of course they weren't kissing, horses didn't kiss.

But people did, and looking at him . . . It didn't make any sense. Sandor was looking out for her, but she didn't owe him anything. Why should she feel this way? She shook her head, but the feelings were still there, and the knowledge that right then, she'd wanted to kiss him.

It wasn't the first time she'd felt something like this. Sometimes she was struck by a deep affection for him. When he looked sad or vulnerable, she thought she saw a need there for gentleness. Twice she had surprised herself by hugging him. But the Hound was a hard man and stiffened from her touch. Other times it was his strength that drew her. She felt safe with him. But instead of saying this or staying close, she felt cowed and forced a distance between them. How could she explain that the same feeling that made her want to get close to him made her pull away?

But this was the first time her feelings had been so plain and clear. This was the first time the feelings in her heart had wanted to express themselves in such a romantic way. Usually she kept them locked inside of herself, and mixed as the swamp water Sandor said they couldn't drink. There, they were conscious thoughts that she could reason with. Now that she had allowed herself to feel a pure emotion, she was startled by what she felt.

Sandor walked back into camp and, seeing her by the fire, walked over and spooned some porridge into a bowl for himself. Inwardly, Sansa cursed herself for running away and acting so shy. It wasn't as though he could read her mind. She gave him most of the apples and put the rest into her own bowl.

"I see we're eating like horses, at least" he said, and his gruff comment made her blush, though she couldn't say why. She stared down at her oats and apples, hoping he wouldn't notice. She wondered that she could feel so awkward sitting across from him, when a moment ago she'd been so comfortable pressed to his side.

When they were done eating Sansa cleaned their bowls, filled one with water and found a rag and bandage in their supplies. "I'm going to patch up Lady," she said, and hurried off. It was challenging even to speak to him, but Sansa didn't think that would be a problem since he didn't usually talk much anyway.

She darted through the trees, which poked through the ground like the fingers of giant skeletons, to the clearing where they'd left the horses. They spent most of the day knee-deep in the swamp but always camped on the highest ground they could find. Lady and Stranger were picking at red buds that looked like fingernails at the ends of the tree branches. Lady turned her big chestnut eyes to Sansa, who wet the rag and used it to scrub the stains from Lady's coat. Her horse still had bite marks, but the bleeding had long since stopped. Working with her hands put Sansa in the mood to sing, and she started up:

"My lady is the world's most fair,
The sun's the color of her hair,
The moon is jealous of her breasts,
The stars envy like all the rest,
Carnations bloom pallid in hue,
No woman's beauty is as true.
When she requests to see the best
The whole world has to offer,
I needn't journey for that quest
And just bring her a mirror."

It was a silly song and she laughed when she was finished. Lady caught the scent of apple bits in her pocket and nuzzled her. Sansa fed them to her and pet her horse's velvety nose. Even Stranger stepped forward to watch the happy scene and Sansa tossed him an apple core; he sought it in the grass by his feet.

Both horses raised their heads, alerting Sansa to Sandor coming from the high ground with bags of grain for their breakfast. He dropped one for Lady and called Stranger to him, holding the bag for the big black war horse to drop his head into it. Sansa noticed he often fed him like that. She chanced to ask Sandor a question that was nipping at her mind.

"Is Lady pregnant now?"

"Might be, might be not. It doesn't happen every time."

"Oh, so they're like people then." She hoped her saying that would show him that she wasn't so naive, but he just twitched—not only the burned side of his face like when he was angry, but his whole head and shoulders, too, like he was in pain. He was so hard to read. "Then might they, uhm, try to do it again?" She hoped her question would draw him out and give her some hint as to why she upset him.

"I don't know." He pulled Stranger's head up from the oats and held him by the chin. The black horse bared his teeth. "What do you think, Stranger? You want to fuck the Lady Fair again?"

Sansa frowned and put the body of her horse between them. That was in poor taste, she thought, and started braiding Lady's tail. She was sorry as soon as she started. Her horse's vulva was red and pouty, like the cleft of a peach made out of steaks.

"Are you ready yet?"

She waited until she was done tying up the end of her horse's tail to answer him. "Yes," she said, and they were off.

It wasn't long before they spotted the wolf. She waited for them every day. Sometimes they only glimpsed her, but other times she led them step by step around quicksand and treacherous bogs where dormant lizard lions slept.

If Sandor thought she was crazy for following a wolf through the swamp, he didn't say so. She was glad he didn't. She couldn't explain why, but she trusted the wolf's direction completely. Once she was certain they were going in a circle, and she could tell from Sandor's demeanor that he knew they were, too. It was only the next day that they came across the remains of a small host and knew that the wolf had led them well out of the way of a battle.

The land was becoming wetter, if that was possible. They usually stayed on dry ground, but there wasn't much of that anymore. The horses were up to their knees in muck and instead of the wet sucking sounds their hooves made when they pulled them out of the shallow ground the swamp belched and farted every time the horses pushed a pocket of air out of the mud with their legs. The wolf, no longer any color but brown, shook herself off and trotted up a steep hill in front of them.

"Gods, I feel like we are never going to get out of this swamp," Sandor complained. The horses waded in up to their bellies before fighting to free themselves and catch a hold on the slippery hill. Sandor and Sansa got off of them to make it easier and pulled them up, slipping many times themselves. "I think we followed that wolf straight into Hell."

"Sandor . . ." Sansa panted near the top.

"Sorry. You're a wolf, Little Bird, ask your friend how much longer we're going to be stuck in here."

"Sandor, look!"

From the top of the hill they could look down and see a river at the bottom of the other side. It wasn't a swampy puddle, but a real river running brown with mud. On the other side was the plains, mostly treeless, with rolling hills that reminded Sansa of loaves of uncooked bread laid out to rise on a flour-covered countertop. On top of the biggest mound, and closest to them, was a town.

Sansa could scarce believe her eyes. Sandor yelled. "FUCK YEAH! We made it!"

"We did?" Sansa could not contain her excitement, looking from Sandor to the town and back again, while the tired horses drooped their heads in exhaustion. "Where are we?"

"That's Barrowton, Sansa. This is the North!"

Sansa shrieked with happiness, bounced up and down, and threw herself into Sandor's arms. She wanted to kiss him. He spun her around once and was about to set her down again. Just do it, she told herself, he won't mind.

She did.

They kissed and it felt so good to Sansa. It made her hungry in a way she hadn't known she was. Sandor crushed her to him and she kept her arms around his neck to keep him close. When he opened his mouth wider and stuck his tongue in her mouth she met it with hers.

Sandor stopped kissing her. "You don't have to do that," he said.

"Do what?" Sansa could feel herself turning red from the rebuke. "I wanted to kiss you . . ."

"Yeah?" He turned from her, shyly, and in this posture Sansa could see a reflection of the boy he had once been.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I like kissing you."

When they crossed the river they got so dirty and covered in mud she doubted that even someone who knew them would even recognize them. After that it took three more days to reach Barrowton, and each night Sansa asked him for another kiss. It felt so good each time that her heart felt like a drum beating in her chest when he so much as leaned in close to her. And when she put her arms around his neck and felt the muscles in his back and shoulders and he ran his hands over her body as they touched their tongues together, that felt best of all.