The One Less Traveled By

by hakunamatata134

Sandor Clegane is the fiercest warrior in all of Westeros. Men and women alike fear his name: the Hound and the face that matches his infamous reputation. Sandor cares for no one, loathes all people but there is one little bird that makes him want to care. When one unexpected event happens, will he get the opportunity to become Sandor again or will he remain the Hound forever.

16. Chapter 16

Note to readers: This chapter is much shorter than the last few I have posted but I wanted to end this chapter like I did. The next chapter will likely be long as it will be the rest of the journey to the Hills of Norvos. Leave comments so I know how you like the story so far!

Chapter 16

As soon as the arrow punctures Hermes, Sandor reacted instantly by grabbing him by his collar and flinging him in the back of the cart with the women, then charged the horses forward. He felt an arrow skate off his left shoulder which was armored. Sandor had decided four days into their journey that he should be wearing his armor on the road even if it did cook him from the inside out in the blistering sun. Now he couldn't be more thankful to himself for thinking ahead. He couldn't be sure how many there were until he could either hear them or see them, so their best bet was to get away as quickly as possible. Sandor could feel the cart struggling to keep up with the pace he was setting on the horses, but he just hoped the cart was strong enough on the rough terrain not to fail them now. He could hear several horses pursuing them from behind, so he knew without seeing the bandits that they were outnumbered. Fucking cunt bastards! He chanced a glance behind his shoulder to measure their enemy and he saw there were ten men on horseback, but Sandor was thankful he only saw one with a bow. He knew they couldn't outrun them with the two horses pulling the cart of the four of them but he was hoping he could get them to an open clearing to give him a better chance to fight. If they stayed in these woods, he wouldn't be able to see all around him due to the trees and brush.

He chanced a glance at Sansa who was helping Cara tend to Hermes' wound. Sandor knew the man would die. You don't get shot in the chest and live to tell the tale. He could see the panic in Sansa's eyes but he was proud of the focus in her gaze as she looked from Hermes to the bandits. He turned back around then to focus on steering the cart and keeping it from bucking under them. He was starting to feel hopeless they would find a place to stop and he could hear the men were almost upon them now, but then they suddenly broke through the expanse of trees to enter a small opening. It wasn't ideal but it was better than trying to fight the men in the woods. He jerked up on the reins hard to stop the horses abruptly. The horses protested intently at the sudden command but they skidded to a stop at the other end of the clearing. Sandor immediately hopped down from the cart drawing his sword to face the foe.

The men stopped only half a yard from the group and began dismounting one by one, and he had never seen a more retched lot in all his life. Most of the men were bare-chested or had on dirty, tattered vests of various sizes with no undershirts, and they all were inked, with what they call tattoos, from their faces to their bellies. He'd never seen such dirty men before; they were all caked with dried wet mud and their clothes looked as though they hadn't been washed in months. Sandor sneered at them and as one with rotten teeth opened his mouth, he could almost smell his putrid breath from where he stood.

"Howdy, name's Anton. Looks like you lot got some things we might need… You see me and my friends here ain't eat in a few days and we bet you got some food, and nice things we can sell to earn some coin, huh? Why don't you just hand us what you got and we'll be on our way."

The man was grinning at Sandor sinisterly and he noticed most of the men weren't looking at the bags but instead were focused on the women in the back of the cart. He tried measuring up the men and though they didn't look like much of a threat individually, Sandor knew there were too many of them for him to take on alone. Sandor felt an intense calm blanket him as he glared viciously at the man who'd spoken.

"Fuck off cunt! We give you our provisions and we're good as dead. I'd rather gut you all now and watch your insides fall in the soil in a heap at my feet before letting you near my shit… You wanna take me on? Come right ahead then. I'll kill half of you before the rest of you have time to draw your swords."

Some of the men looked at each other anxious at that and Sandor just hoped some would be coward enough to leave. The man named Anton just grinned at Sandor, seemingly unphased by the threat. "Big talk for a big man. I ain't seen many men as big as you but that face though. That's a face only a mother could love, don't you think boys?" Some of the men laughed aloud then but some remained anxiously quiet while scrutinizing Sandor. It was obvious to him that none of the men had any idea who he was, and he was about to use that to his advantage. "I don't want any of my boys to get killed so why don't you just hand over your things and we'll let you go… we want the women too." The man smiled at him then flashing his black, rotten teeth.

Sandor wanted to vomit thinking of this man, or any of the others, touching Sansa and it only fuel the fire he had raging inside of him even more. He chanced a glance at Sansa who was crouched down with Cara and Hermes glaring daggers at the men. He was proud she wasn't showing her fear to them but he hoped she remembered what he'd told her before to let the men believe she's no threat to catch them off guard.

He looked back at the man and growled low and malevolently, "Before this day is through, you and all these men will be corpses at my feet."

After his statement, all the men roared and began charging him and the cart. As he was focusing on the threats in front of him, he was hoping Sansa was handling herself without him. He couldn't allow his worry for her to distract him from his duty though; he had to trust that the training he had given her prepared her for this very moment. He killed one man before the man gave a downward thrust of his sword, then he slashed at the other three who were crowding him. Soon enough, about six of them were surrounding him to try to take him down and Sandor had to let his training as a warrior of fifteen years guide his instincts as he killed the men around him. He felt a slash at his thigh and instead of giving into the pain, he used it as fuel to drive further. He had killed four of them by now and the two left were evidently the more experienced fighters since they kept deflecting his blows to their body. He knew these men were no match for him but when he heard Sansa scream, he felt a deep dread collect in his gut.

He finished off the men rather quickly with more vigor by beheading one then slicing the other deep across his chest with the same stroke of his sword. When he looked toward the cart and didn't see Sansa, he felt panic rising in his chest and he charged for the cart while looking for any sign of her. He caught sight of her a yard away with one of the bald, bare-chested men who was twice her size and he saw red until he really watched them. Sansa was matching the man blow for blow and he saw the man wasn't even armed with a blade. Sandor was curious by that, but he saw the rest of the men were dead and scattered between himself and where Sansa stood. He realized then that Sansa had picked the rest of these men off and he felt an intense pride build within him at the thought. As he jogged up to the pair, Sandor almost gave into his possessiveness and overprotectiveness of her by finishing the man off, but he could see she was handling herself exceptionally well. Better than he could have ever envisioned. The man was panting and red faced as he was using all his power to grab her or take her down but it was obvious he was no experienced fighter and Sansa was relentless. She was sidestepping him and knocking his hands away as she delivered blow after blow to his face and body as the man erratically charged her, and Sandor could see she wouldn't lose this fight. Sansa suddenly and gracefully dove for the dagger to her right and as the man was diving for her, she plunged it deep into his neck. She jerked the knife out then stopped to stare at him as he died at her feet. Sandor had always been a dark, wicked man but he was surprised by the intense arousal at seeing the woman he loved, that he had trained, kill another man.

Sandor cautiously approached her from behind as she stood there staring at the man. He didn't want to startle her enough that she turned the weapon on him. "Sansa?" She whirled around then and stood wide-eyed and breathing heavily as she looked at him. He could see an untamed wildness in her eyes. "Sansa, it's over. It's over. They're all dead."

She seemed to be coming to herself then and when she looked down at the blood-stained blade in her hands she dropped it as if it burned her. She then looked around at all the dead bodies and let out a sob. Sandor rushed to her then to bring her in his arms. He was relieved she had made it and was able to defend herself as he had taught her but Sansa had never killed a man and based on the scene she had just bested four grown men. Pride swelled within him at the thought but he knew this wasn't easy for her.

"Sansa, it's okay. You had to kill them. If you didn't kill those cunts, they would have done it to you." When she remained silent, he knew she must be in turmoil over the kills. He wanted to be angry with her for having any remorse over killing the vermin but he knew not everyone enjoyed the kill as he did. "Sansa, love, I'm so proud of you for what you've done. You did well. Don't let the killing plague your mind."

When she still didn't respond and he didn't feel or hear her crying anymore, and he seemed to be holding her up with his arms, he loosened his grip, and she started falling to the ground. His quick reflexes stopped her from reaching the ground, but he was in utter panic now. "Sansa!" He dropped down to one knee and supported her weigh in his arms as he looked at her face. She was very pale, and her eyes were closed. He shook her some then, "Sansa! Sansa!" He still didn't receive a response so he laid her on the ground gently then inspected her body. He didn't see or feel anything immediately wrong with her as he moved his hands from her collarbone and down her torso. She wore the dark brown britches today and when he placed his hand on her right thigh, he felt a wetness there. His heart stopped. NO. When he pulled his hand back, it was covered in bright red blood. He roared in agony at the sight. "Sansa! Sansa, love please wake up… Damn you Sansa! Open your fucking eyes!" He was screaming at her now and shaking her but then he tried to calm his mind. Though he didn't want to violate her trust and vulnerability, he pulled his knife from his boot to cut from the bottom of her britches all the way up her hipbone and then saw the source of the blood. She had a deep cut from her outer thigh down to just above her knee. He was pained by the sight, and he knew it was deep enough to cause fatality if it wasn't tended to immediately. If he didn't get the bleeding to stop, she would be dead within twenty minutes as he could see she'd already lost a lot of blood. She cannot die. Though it hurt him to cause her any pain, he did what he knew he had to in order to save her life. He loosened his sword belt from his hip quickly then wrapped it as far up her thigh as he could then with no hesitation pulled the belt as tight as he could to stop the circulation.

Sansa immediately jerked awake when he tightened the belt and she reached for her leg as she tried sitting up. Sandor placed his hands on her shoulders to lay her back down and whispered reassuring words to her to ease her discomfort. Sandor knew too well the pain of having to wrap a tourniquet around an arm or a leg but her worst pain would come later as her leg began to tingle painfully and throb unrelentingly. She calmed down rather quickly and seemed to go back to sleep. Sandor's thoughts were racing then on what he should do now. He knew she needed a maester or someone who knew how to treat this type of injury. He put his arms under her and lifted her effortlessly as he made his way back to the cart. Cara was halfway to him with blood on the front of her dress and she had tears streaming down her face, but she was only focused on the woman in his arms.

"Sansa! Oh Gods, what happened? She was right next to the cart then she baited the men away from us."

He growled viciously at her, "One of the bastards cut her thigh. It's deep and she's lost a lot of blood. She won't survive if-" Sandor's throat closed without his control then and he had to force a swallow down to continue. "She won't survive if we don't get someone to stitch up this wound and if it festers…" He couldn't finish the thought.

Cara looked in a panic as she peered at Sansa's open pant leg where the cut was. She swallowed then and said to him with finality, "I can do it."

Sandor looked at the woman like she had lost her mind and he continued making his way to the cart. "You're not a healer woman and you're sure no maester."

Cara ran in front of him then and held out her hands to stop him. He stopped and glared down at her impatiently. "No, I'm not but I know how to stop the bleeding… and I know how to keep it from festering."

He looked at the woman skeptically not understanding her meaning but then suddenly he knew what she wanted to do. He felt a sickness in his stomach. "No." He said the word low and with a hint of a threat.

"You know it's our best option right now. You must let me do this."

"I said NO woman! I'll not allow it. Besides, your husband will be needing a maester anyway from his injury so we need to get moving."

There was a pained expression on Cara's face then and she looked away from him to look at the ground at his feet. "My hus-My husband… Hermes is dead." She gave a choked sob then and he just took a deep breath. He honestly didn't give too shits about the couple knowing that Sansa was hurt in his arms.

"I'm sorry for your loss but I need to get to someone who can heal Sansa and get this wound closed before it's too late."

Cara snapped out of her despair and set her eyes on him with determination. "Yeah? And where do you presume that will be huh? We are in the middle of the woods with mountains all around us. We could head North and maybe find a village that may have a maester or we could head South, or East, or West and they may also have a maester… We don't know this area Sandor and it could take us days, if not a week to find someone who can treat her… I know I'm not a healer, but I can treat her now until we come across a village along the way… Please Sandor. Please let me do this."

Sandor clenched his jaw knowing this damnable, stubborn woman was speaking the truth. If they were in Westeros then he would at least know how far away the nearest town was but he didn't know this place. Hermes had told Sandor in detail how to get to the Hills of Norvos but he didn't know this land or their surroundings. If they waited then Sansa's leg would probably fester or she would get the blood sickness he's seen so many times when in battle. His stomach recoiled thinking of Sansa suffering the fate he'd seen from so many men. He was battling with himself, but he knew this was the best option.

"Fine. Do what you must but we need to leave this area first before we camp down for the night. We don't need anyone running into us here… We'll take Hermes with us and give him a proper burial on the morrow."

Cara's eyes pained at that, and she just nodded to him. He walked the rest of the way to the cart and he saw that Cara had draped a blanket over her husband's body. Sandor was hesitant to place Sansa next to the dead man but he knew she wouldn't be waking up any time soon. As he laid her down, he looked at her pale face and his heart constricted in his chest once again. He felt he had done everything he could to protect her but he would never forgive his failure if she were to die. She won't die. He abruptly turned from her then to clear his head and stay sharp. Cara began to climb in the back of the cart but he stopped her and told her to sit up with him in the front. She looked ready to object but when he said she probably didn't want to sit next to her dead husband, she nodded to him and went to the front.

They continued for several hours until they found a stream and a clearing well covered by trees and brush. Cara had been leaning back to peer at Sansa every ten fucking minutes that was incessantly irritating him, but he was glad she was keeping an eye on her as he was wanting to do the same. When they stopped the cart, Sandor jumped down and brought Sansa back in his arms. She gave a quiet sigh when he had her in his arms and he couldn't resist leaning down to place a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. He gently laid her on the ground next to Cara who was already building the fire. Sandor's insides were a swirling mess, and he was afraid he would vomit right then, thinking of what she was going to do. Baring witness to cauterizing a wound was Sandor's worst nightmare and it was even worse that it was happening to the woman he loved.

To put it out of his mind, he went over to the horses to unburden them then rubbed them down thoroughly and gave them extra food and water for their swiftness today. He began getting their provisions out of the cart and started pitching up the tents. He removed his armor then to get rid of the heavy weight and the stench of blood. Once he laid the bedrolls out and there didn't appear to be anything else left for him to do, he turned to Cara. She was stoking the fire now and had Sansa right in front of her to inspect the wound. He walked slowly to her and sat as far from the fire as he could, barely feeling it's warmth.

Cara looked to him then with a blank stare. She seemed to be sizing him up and he just stared at her blankly back. "You look as white as a sheet and like you'll hurl at any moment… I know this isn't easy for you Sandor but Sansa needs this and she needs you to be strong for her."

He looked away from her then, irritated, knowing she once again was speaking the truth. Sometimes he hated this woman for talking to his so directly. No one other than Sansa did that… No wonder they're such good friends.

He responded curtly, "Aye."

She breathed in deeply then and let the air out slowly as she placed the handle of a large mixing spoon in the fire. "I haven't done this myself, but I've seen it done before… The utensil must be exceptionally hot to melt the skin together. It's not just burning the whole area at once and it's done. You must hold the wound together as you burn it a little at a time to ensure it won't open… It will hurt. No matter how weak she may be, as soon as I put this to her skin she will wake up from the pain. She will instinctively try to pull away from the heat so I need you to keep her as still as possible. She will likely pass out again from the pain, but I will work as swiftly as I can."

Sandor had his head in his hands now and he felt a heavy wave of nausea thinking about Sansa in pain and the fire licking her skin. He almost called this whole farce off but he knew this was their best option. This would keep her alive. Knowing what was to come, he was being flooded with memories of the past, the agonizing pain of the fire as it burned him, the helplessness of being held down and not being able to get away, the smell. He knew he needed to be strong for Sansa. She needed him now and he couldn't allow his own fears to cloud his task to her. He swore an oath to her… and he loved her so he would walk through the fires of hell for her if it meant saving her life.

With that thought, he pushed down his fears and anxiety and raised his head to Cara with a nod. She nodded back to him then. "It's almost hot enough now. I want you to get behind her and put her between your legs. Hold down her arms and keep one of your legs wrapped around her left one to keep her from kicking me."

Sandor moved to do as she bid. He lifted her up against his chest as he sat down behind her. He placed both of his arms around her to keep them pinned to her sides against his frame then placed his left leg over hers securely to keep it steady. Cara nodded to him that he was in the right position then she lowered her head to pray. Sandor rolled his eyes at the woman but remained silent. When she was done, she raised her head then took another deep breath in to let it out slowly. Cara used a canteen to clean out the wound and other than a small flinch, Sansa didn't react. Cara placed the canteen down then reached for the mixing spoon. The end of the handle was now glowing bright orange and Sandor had to steel himself for what he knew was to come. Cara hunched low and pinched the skin together then looked up to Sandor and he gave her a nod to start. As soon as the hot object contacted her skin, Sansa jerked awake and tried thrashing against him. He held her firm, and it pained his soul to know she was in pain. She gave a wail as Cara continued down her leg and Sandor whispered reassuring words to her but after almost a minute, she grew still and passed out again. He was almost relieved by that so he wouldn't have to hear her scream in pain.

Cara continued with her work and Sandor's stomach continued to recoil as he smelled the burnt flesh. He felt completely helpless, but he continued placing kisses on her head and face as Cara worked. Cara straightened herself then and placed the end back in the fire. She looked at him cautiously then as if he might strike her and said to him, "Halfway done now." He internally groaned and he thought he might just end up in fact killing her. When Cara placed the hot object on Sansa's skin again, she didn't react to the heat this time.

Cara sat up straight again when she was finished and inspected her work intently. When she was satisfied, she gave him a nod and said, "It's done."

He breathed a sigh of relief and removed his strong hold on Sansa to look down at her wound. Though it was red and angry, he could see the woman had done a good job at the task. He swallowed then reached for his belt around her leg to test out its effect. He loosened the belt slowly and once it was completely loosened, he and Cara just stared at the wound waiting for it to open again. After several minutes and the gash remaining intact, they knew the cauterizing had worked.

Cara breathed a long sigh of relief then began cleaning up the area around the fire. She stood up and began going from the cart to the tents to the fire then back again several times. Sandor could see the woman was in distress and she was trying to distract her mind by finding a task to do. Suddenly, she stopped at the cart and reached into one of the bags to pull out two flagons of wine. She came back to the fire where Sandor was sitting with Sansa still in his arms and sat across the fire from him. She tossed one of the flagons to him and it landed next to his right hip. He turned his head away from the wineskin. He hadn't had a drink since the night Sansa and Cara had been attacked and he had made a vow to himself that he would never drink again as Sansa's sworn shield.

Cara had opened her flagon and was drinking deeply before sitting it in her lap and looking over at him. The pair remained silent and the only sounds that could be heard was the flames and the music of the woods around them. Cara took another long pull of her wine then gestured over to his untouched wineskin. "Aren't you going to drink that?"

He didn't respond to her, and he reflexively pulled Sansa's still form tighter to his chest. Cara awaited his answer but when she didn't receive one, she made a small sound close to a chuckle. "No one is around us for leagues now that those bandits are dead. You can have one drink for tonight. Gods knows you look like you need one... I know I do."

Cara pulled long on her flagon again and Sandor could already see her eyes getting glassy. He did want the wine but if anything else were to happen tonight, Sansa is in a vulnerable state and unable to protect herself. He knew deep down they wouldn't be seeing anyone else in these deep mountains covered as they were by the woods around them but the possibility of another attack and him deep in his drink made him resist the temptation. He looked at Cara again and he could see the sorrow on her face, and he wished Sansa was well just to give the woman some comfort. He wasn't sure what he should say to her but he needed a distraction from his thoughts of Sansa and the temptation of the wine.

"Thank you… for Sansa." He grumbled the statement, but it was the best a man like him could do.

She looked at him then down at Sansa in his arms then shrugged her shoulders as she looked back at the fire. "She's my friend. I would do anything for her."

He doubted that very seriously. To do anything for her would be to fight for her until your last breathe, to lie and steal for her, to kill for her, to walk through the pits of hell for her. She wouldn't do anything for Sansa; not like he would.

"And I'm sorry about your husband. Though he was a spy for the Spider, he was a good man."

She looked up at his last statement and gave him a small smile then the lines around her eyes crinkled in sadness. She looked about ready to cry and Sandor internal groaned. "Yes, he was a good man. I miss him horribly already. We had grown so close these past two months… It's not fair that life must be so cruel… An-And he would have been a good father." She lifted her hand to her belly and understanding dawned on Sandor. Cara was with child. He knew then that she would be having a difficult road ahead of her now that she was without a husband. He also understood if Sansa ever recovered from her injury she would insist they help her care for the child. She will recover.

Pushing the thought aside he told her, "Times will not be easy for you now you know. Though this land appears to be rich, without a husband and a steady income, you will have to provide for both of you now."

He had said the statement more harshly than he meant to, but he was a crude man and he never lied. She took another long pull of her wine and just nodded then placed her open palm on her forehead. "Yes, I've been thinking on that since we left the clearing. I don't know what I'll do once we get to the Hills, but I'll-we'll survive." She said the last statement with finality and he just nodded to her. Hesitantly she asked him, "What do you think I should do?"

He was taken aback by her statement. How was he supposed to know, and why would she be asking him of all people? Then he realized that without Hermes, he was the only close male in her life now. He sighed at that realization, and he didn't like the feeling of protectiveness that arose in his gut for the friend of the woman he loved. He supposed as he looked at her lost, apprehensive face that she reminded him now of Sansa when she was just a little bird. Sansa had been lost in a sea of evil bystanders and the world was pushing her down around every corner. The thought made him want to give this woman his advice… so he did just that.

"Once we get to the Hills of Norvos, you need to seek out a husband." She looked ready to reject at that, but he stopped her with his snarling voice. "You asked me what I think you should do and I'm telling you. You're not far enough along to show you're with child so if you can get some young green boy to marry you quickly then there'll be no question on him being the father when the babe comes… You won't be able to provide for yourself and a babe alone. Though you may have had an occupation whilst in Westeros, we don't know if that will do you any good once we reach the Hills. Sansa and I can only help you for so long but you cannot rely on anyone else to protect you and your child other than yourself and a husband." She was looking around herself as if to process his suggestion. He knew she didn't want to marry so soon after her husband's death but the woman didn't have a choice now that she was with child. "You may get lucky and find a decent man who will marry you knowing you're widowed and with child but you run the risk of looking like a whore." She looked sharply at him then and there was a fire in her eyes he had to admire being pointed in his direction. "We don't know these people and they don't know us so how would they know you speak the truth about a dead husband?... Woo a young man who has a respectable occupation once we get there then get him to ask your hand in marriage as quickly as possible. It's your best option."

Cara looked ready to burst into tears, but she took several deep breaths and regained her composure. "I suppose you're right. You give me advice from a man's perspective. Though it's not what I wanted to hear, I see the sense in your words."

Just then, Sansa let out a pained moan and Sandor's heart jumped to his throat at the sound. He looked down at her face and could see her brows were furrowed in discomfort but then she became quiet again. He sighed in trepidation then reached for the wineskin at his side and opened it with his teeth to take deep, long pulls. Fuck it. As soon as the wine hit his belly, he felt the familiar heat grow in his chest. The sudden relief of the sensation made him wish he had started drinking an hour ago. He knew there was some risk to getting sotted, but he needed this right now.

Cara was watching him intently then she said with some pride in her voice, "You know she killed four men?" He replied with a breathy "Aye" as he pulled deeply from the flagon again. She grinned then as she looked at Sansa. "You should have seen her. I've never seen her so fierce since I've known her. Though you've taught me well I was a blubbering mess. Between my husband being injured and the fear that was gripping my heart, I was barely able to deflect the ones who were coming after me... But not Sansa. She never reacted as one of the men grabbed her and dragged her off the cart but as soon as another one went for me, she attacked. She punched the man holding her so hard in the face that you could almost hear his teeth rattle." She laughed then from the memory. Instead of feeling pride at her statement, an emotion he wasn't sure he ever felt before rose up in him and he felt tears in the backs of his eyes. He pulled from the flagon deeper then. "The men around us were so shocked at the force of her blow that they just stood there unmoving, but not Sansa. She pulled her blade from her boot and with no hesitation stabbed the man in the belly then went for another's neck. She brought two of them down within a few moments." She laughed again at the memory, and he could tell by her slurred words she was heavy with drink now. "One of the men pulled a short sword from his belt and went to attack her but she sidestepped every attempt. She moved with such grace… The other man, the bald one, went to grab me from the cart and when I hit him he roared at me, but before he could do anything to me Sansa had picked up a rock and threw it at him as she turned to run away from the two men. They both pursued her then. She must have been scared but she never showed it to them… I'm not sure what happened after that as Hermes had reached a hand up to grab my arm. I kissed him and talked to him… told him he would be a father… until the last breath left his body." Cara gave a sob at that.

Sandor felt a tightness in his chest knowing Sansa had fought so hard for her life and looking down at her now, he couldn't stop the tears from running down his face. Crying like a fucking woman again. He tried steadying his breathing and took another pull from his wine which he found hard to swallow with the tightness in his throat.

Cara sniffled across from him then said quietly, "You've done right by her Sandor. She would be dead if it wasn't for you… She wouldn't have survived if you hadn't been so dedicated to her training. You trained her for that moment."

Sandor let out a sob then and buried his face in Sansa's neck as he pulled her closer to him to muffle the sound. He hated he was crying in front of this woman, but he found he couldn't control his reaction to her words. Cara spoke softly to him then, "I know you love her Sandor, and she loves you just the same. It's okay to cry now. I'll not watch you." With that, Cara rose with her wine and made her way to her tent.

As soon as the woman was out of sight, Sandor began sobbing uncontrollably in Sansa's neck and hair. Her scent was overwhelming him, and he pulled her tight to him as he allowed his emotions to escape him. He was so relieved that she was alive now but the thought of her almost dying was pulling at something deep within him that kept his sobs strong. He thought of who she had become; this strong, independent woman able to best a man. He thought of the girl she once was who he loathed; a quiet, frightened little girl who chirped her curtsies thinking it would protect her. He thought about himself as well. He thought about the Hound; how much he hated everyone and he hated his own existence. How he never could attract even the lowliest of whores and how he was filled with so much hate that only killing and inflicting pain gave him any joy. Then he thought about how the Hound slowly dissolved into just a part of himself, a part of Sandor Clegane. Sansa had brought out Sandor again to him and had told him it was okay to care, to cry, to love. This woman who was in his arms now was the only person he allowed himself to trust and love, and here she was gravely injured because she had chosen him. She had placed her trust in him to be her protector and followed him across the sea to this unknown place only to almost be killed because he hadn't been strong enough. If it took every ounce of strength left in his body, he would get her recovered then never allow this to happen to her again… but if he couldn't and she did die, he knew he would have nothing left living for anymore and he would ensure he followed her in death.