Once again a special thanks to littlebirdhound for helping me out.
Sansa lay quietly, listening to the deep breathing of the man beside her. She could feel the rise and fall of each breath. It felt strange to be so close to a man who was not her lord husband.
Husband...
She suppressed a sigh. She was a woman married; married while betrothed to yet another. It's so complicated. She shivered and pulled the furs closer to herself, and shifted onto her side, facing Sandor. She studied his figure in the dark, though she could not see him, for some odd reason, it made it easier for her to face him. She tucked her hands under her head and gazed ahead into the dark, studying his form. I should feel afraid to be out here in the wild, but I don't. He is in front of the only way in, protecting me. It stirred something inside of her, reminding her of when she was back in the Eyrie, when she would dream of him. Would he be like he is in my dreams? So intimidating, yet gentle as well? I was sure he was going to kiss me again today. If he had, would it have been cruel as before or maybe gentler? I would prefer a gentle kiss next time, though he might not know how to give them gently. Sansa blushed at her thoughts and covered her smile with a hand. She then tucked her head deeper into the furs and finally fell asleep.
Later in the night, the sound of a hooting owl stirred Sansa from her slumber. She nestled herself deeper, seeking more of the warmth next to her. She felt, rather than heard, the deep breathing coming from Sandor. Suddenly she froze, realizing she was tucked up next to Sandor. He was lying on his back, while her face nuzzled against the side of his chest. The top of her head was buried into his armpit, and one arm curled into her chest while the other lay across his waist. And her legs... Gods, what would mother think? She realized her leg was straddled over his thigh.
Sandor wrapped his arm tightly around her, and Sansa could feel his warm breath coming towards her face. She tried to wriggle away but stilled when Sandor grunted and pulled her closer.
"Go back to sleep, little bird. Relax, I'll not touch you," he grumbled sleepily as he turned on his side towards her. "Though your flittering around in your sleep, mumbling my name, tempts me."
Sansa squeaked when he pulled her closer and her heart thumped as they shared the warmth and closeness that their small space provided. She felt tense till she felt him nudge her and mutter again for her to relax. After a while, her eyes grew heavy, and she fell back asleep.
She was alone when she awoke, the spot beside her still warm. After quickly getting up straightening herself out, she rolled up the furs, tied the leather cords around them to secure them, and placed them at the entrance before climbing out into the bright morning. Sandor, she saw, was readying Stranger, and he nodded his acknowledgment to her as he kept busy.
Sansa looked around and walked into the trees behind the shelter, making sure not to go too far, but enough so he would not see or hear her. She blushed. It was so unlady like to trudge into the forest and for all to see what she was doing. I feel like a wildling and I am sure I look like one too. Although she was grateful to Sandor, she hoped there was a bath where they were heading to next, and wondered if he thought less of her beauty while she looked like this. She chided herself straight away. I should not be complaining. Sandor is not like that. He only cares for my safety. She finished up and adjusted her skirts, rubbed handfuls of snow in her hands to clean them the best she could, and made her way back to the camp where Sandor awaited, ready to go.
His eyes studied her, and she felt her face grow hot, hoping he was convinced that the cold air was the reason. Oh please Mother, blessed Mother, please don't let him say anything about last evening.
"Up you go, little bird," Sandor rasped as he gently picked her up by the waist and settled her, side-saddle, before he pulled himself up. "Two more days and we'll be there."
The day passed, uneventful, as did the next. Their nights were spent as the ones before; in the woods and huddled close to each other for warmth. On breaks, they shared a heel of bread and some cheese, even a wrinkled, half-frozen apple. They talked here and there when Sansa got the nerve up to ask him questions about the Quiet Isle and the septons that lived there, but nothing was said about the nights and how she always ended up in his arms.
On the fourth morning, Sandor informed her that by the evening, she would have four walls around her, a cot to sleep in, and a fire to warm her. Her face beamed, thinking it was the best news she had heard in a long time. Still, she feared being found, and more than that, she feared what could happen to Sandor. She had tried to express that fear and he just scoffed it off and padded his sword on his side.
There was snow all around them but it was colder as they the left the mountains behind them and got closer to the sea, taking a detour away from the Saltpans, and giving it a wide berth. Sansa asked why.
"Supposedly, the Hound was there," he retorted bitterly. "They say he murdered twelve men and raped a young girl." Sandor spat to the side. "Funny thing is, I was in no shape to even hold a sword, I barely got Stranger to the isle."
Sansa turned her head to look at him. "No, I know you would never do that. Truth be known, you can be very frightening... but to rape a girl? It was not you. I would never believe that," she said matter-of-factly. He could have done the same to me, but he did not and would not. This I know. "I will give testament to your character, Sandor, if needs be. I know you-"
Sansa was suddenly interrupted when solid fingers gripped her chin.
"You think you know me, little bird? The fact of the matter is you don't. I've killed more than my share of innocents."
His eyes narrowed and he loosened his grip.
"Though you have the right of it," he continued. "I'm no rapist. I'm not like my brother was." He then lowered his hand, flexing it, and settled into a brooding state.
Sansa did not push the subject further, knowing his thoughts were troubled. It's not fair, not right, to have that crime over his head. I will defend him when I can. When we get to Winterfell, the people will know the truth, from me. This time I will be the one protecting him. She smiled determinedly, took a deep breath, and leaned her head against his chest.
The sun was low on the horizon when they reached what Sandor called, 'The Path of Faith.' The tide was out and a vast expanse of mud was ahead of them. The land around them was covered in snow and in the distance Sansa could see the small island.
Sandor brought Stranger to a stop and heaved himself off. Sansa leaned towards him and he plucked her off easily.
"We'll stop for a moment," he explained as he stretched his arms over his head. Sansa stared at him. Gods, he's huge! "You should stretch your legs a bit too, girl. It's a tricky path if you veer off so I'll lead Stranger through and you can have the saddle to yourself this time."
She nodded and walked towards the shoreline, staring out at the small isle. It looked so peaceful and safe. She suddenly felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.
"Are you a wicked girl?" He asked, grinning down at her. "Story goes that if your wicked you'll get swallowed whole by quicksand or drown when the tide comes in."
She looked up into his eyes.
"No, you're a good little girl, aren't you? You'll make it across." He let go of her shoulder and flicked his eyes down to where he had touched her. "If a drunk, half-dead dog made it there, you have no worries. Come on girl, before it gets dark." He turned and walked back to Stranger.
Sansa felt a strange feeling in her stomach. She glanced back towards the Isle once more before following him.
Sandor waited patiently as she walked up. As he sat her sideways in the saddle, Sansa was overcome with a strong feeling of affection. Tentatively, she reached out her hand to the burnt side of his face, pausing him. She gazed down at his eyes, so intensely sharp as he focused on her. Sansa swallowed hard and whispered, "Thank you so much. For everything. I will never forget what you have done for me, for my sister. Ever. I don't know how to ever repay you, but one day, I swear it, I will."
Sandor gently grasped her hand on his cheek and brought it to his lips, so quick that Sansa did not know for sure if his lips touched her hand before he dropped it. He gave her a peculiar look before he turned around and roughly grabbed Stranger's reigns.
"It's not you that needs to be thankful." She heard him mutter under his breath as he started towards the mud. Why would he be thankful? I've done nothing.
The path was more like a lack of a path. It had no discernible steps or anything that marked whether a step was considered safe or unsafe. They started in the east, then went south away from the Isle, they wandered toward it again, then back towards the mainland. Sansa noticed that Sandor, and Stranger too, knew exactly the right places to step, as if they had travelled this path many times. Thank the Gods he knows where he is going. Surely I would be dead by now.
The sunlight faded quickly. Soon they came up to the shore of the isle and Sandor led them to a small stable where there were three horses being brushed down by a hooded man wearing a large cloak. The man looked up when he noticed them arriving, quickly nodding at Sandor, but giving Stranger a weary eye. Sandor stopped in front of the furthest pen and lifted Sansa down.
"This will only take a moment, little bird. Then we'll see the Elder Brother and get some warm food."
She wondered what this Elder Brother would be like. Surely, he is a great man if Sandor feels I would be safe here.
"There'll be warm honeyed milk for you and as much stew as you care to eat. Never a shortage here." Sandor looked up and down at her tired form. "You could stand a good meal," he said with a slight smile.
Sansa huffed, and smiled timidly, patting down her hair and straightening her skirts as best she could. I knew it! I look a fright! I do hope there is bath here but I imagine there is not. At the very least a cloth and hot kettle of water will do.
While she waited, Sansa looked around at the landscape. It seemed so beautiful and peaceful there, as if war had never existed just over the water. A few hooded men passed her, their heads bowed as if they were in silent prayer. Her eyes travelled over the now leafless fruit trees and paused as she noticed a small lichyard in the distance. I wonder what Sandor did here. The gods were good to bring him here. She could sense a change in him, though he tried to hide it at times with his scowls and terrible words.
She turned back around and watched as Sandor removed Stranger's saddle and blanket. Gently, he ran his hand down the length of Stranger's snout, and the horse nudged his nose under Sandor's chin, forcing him to look up. He looked relaxed, and Sansa knew he truly loved his horse. He is a good horse. He was so strong bringing us both here. If I find an apple I will bring it to him.
"Alright, little bird, lets go see the Elder Brother. He'll be happy to know you're here safe and sound." He beckoned her to follow as he headed up a wooden staircase that meandered up along a hill. They climbed many steps, and Sansa felt as though her chest was like to burst from the long climb. The hill was steeper than she had realized. Her breathing was laboured and she started to feel hot, and she rued the heavy wool dress. Sandor chuckled and offered her his hand. "Almost there. Not used to this, are you?" He teased.
Sansa looked up at him as she stopped to catch her breath. He is not even breathing hard and he is twice my size, and he has a limp, how can that be? She shook her head at him and kept climbing towards him, forcing him to keep going as she reached the step below him. Soon they were standing in front of a old wooden door, in the side of the hill. The grey door was surrounded by a warm inviting light that peeked out around the frame.
Sandor knocked twice and opened the door. Sansa was right on his heels, her breathing quick and she crashed into his back as he suddenly stopped.
"What the bloody hells is he doing here?"
Sansa's heart stopped and a cold sweat broke across her body when she peeked from behind Sandor's large frame. He snarled as his sword hissed sharply when he unsheathed it with one hand and with the other, pushed Sansa back behind him as if to hide her.
