"Why are you here?" The little she wolf's voice caught him.
"Where the hell did you come out?" He looked at the stable's door that was closed and became to brush the black horse before him.
"Why have not you left yet?"
"And why would I?"
"That's what you did in King's Landing, was not it? You fled in the middle of the battle."
"I hated that shitty city, I wanted it to fall."
"Does that mean you like here?"
He stared at her impatience.
"That means I want to drink all your brother's wine before death takes me."
"Death could find you before that."
Sandor studied the little she wolf's posture, feet slightly apart, firmly on the ground, hands clasped behind her back, a dagger fastened on her belt, and on the opposite side her sword.
"By you?"
"I've already decided about your life once, it's not up to me anymore."
"You mean I'm not in your fucking list anymore?" His laugh came like a growl.
"No, not anymore." Her voice was so expressionless that it sounded like death itself. "Are you going to fight alongside my brother?"
"That's what I'm here for."
"I thought you were here to drink all Jon's wine."
The corner of Sandor's mouth curved, as well as lethal, she was clever.
"It's a beautiful animal, it reminds me Stranger."
"I know it."
"What happened to him?"
"Stolen. Dead. Who the hell knows?"
The girl went around the animal, stroked its muzzle, and just as she had appeared, she left, silent as a ghost.
.
.
The men were laughing and talking loudly, some of them, already completely drunk, pinched the girls who filled their beer mugs. It was the celebration before the battle. Some celebrated the imminence of the combat, but most of them only wanted to enjoy a spree before thickening the ranks of the Night King. Sandor watched everything around him at the edge of the room, preferring to stay away from all that damn stupidity. None of them had seen the army of the dead, none of them had tried to fight with one of those things; they did not know that death was almost certain.
"Are you going to join them?" Jon's voice sounded at his side.
"Not fucking."
"I'm not in the mood to party either.
"They're all stupid cunts."
"Not all, some of them just want to enjoy life before death." Sandor stared at the boy beside him, though young, Jon was more sensible and fair than all the men he had met, including his father, Ned Stark, who would still be alive if he had had enough judgment to keep his mouth shut. "There's something I need to tell you, Clegane, but not here, walk with me."
Unwinding himself from the wall, Sandor followed him to the small hall where a large table supported the map of the North, starting from the Neck and following after the Wall. There were small wooden figures above him, indicating the movements Jon planned to carry out when he left, as well as the advance of the Night King, who was about to cross the border of the New Gift.
"Take some wine if you want." Jon said as he studied the map again.
Knowing that nothing good could come from a private conversation with a king, Sandor did not bother to get a drink, sipping the sour liquid straight from the bottle.
"What the hell do you have to tell me?"
"I want you to stay in Winterfell."
"Why?"
Jon put both hands on the map and stared at him with tired eyes.
"My family will stay here, Clegane. I want you to protect them."
Sandor took a long gulp before answering.
"Your eldest sister has her own sworn shield, the she wolf knows how to handle a sword better than many men I knew, and the boy has the fat one."
Despite everything, Jon smiled.
"Sam is a bookman, not a fighter." Becoming serious, he continued. "If any threat comes to Winterfell... I need to know they will be safe, or as safe as possible. I need you, Clegane."
"Fuck." He murmured before drying out the bottle.