Author's note: Hey guys! First of all I really want to thank you for all your lovely comments both on and ao3. They are much appreciated as a starting writer! It's weird because I've been reading but never posting so I found that I basically don't even know how to reply to messages so I'm just gonna say a big thank you to all of you! And yes, to those of you who noticed, I intend to make Sansa more confident in this story because by this time she's really learned how to play this game and I think she's at the point where she can start to make her own decisions. So here is chapter 2, this time from Sandor's POV. I hope you enjoy it! :)

As soon as Sandor had left the Quiet Isle his mind began to race. Making the preparations for the start of his new life was one thing, but actually putting it into motion was another.

Elder Brother had agreed to his leaving. However much the island had put him to peace, it had never felt like his home. And so he found himself visiting the Elder Brother on the one day he was allowed to speak.

The rules about talking to Elder Brother were different though, for when it was needed one was always allowed to talk to the man even if it was not their one day of talking a week. Still, Sandor chose these days anyway.

He didn't like his 'brothers' that much to trust his precious talking to. They were nice enough company but he could never find a topic of conversation with them except the all ongoing discussion about their Seven Gods.

The Elder Brother however was a man much like him. They shared a past that their brothers would never fully understand. And when he finally told him about his plans to leave a small but sad smile played around the man's lips.

"I was already expecting you to ask me sooner or later, though I had much rather have had it later."

"Why?"

"You might not realize it Sandor, but I do truly enjoy your company."

"There's plenty of people here to talk with, and out of those I am certainly not the best company to have around."

"That might have been once, but you're a changed man now, the Seven have saved and gentled you."

Sandor had let out a snort at that, it was the Elder Brother himself that had healed him when he lay dying from that wound at the side of the river. The man knew how he thought about his Gods but still he told him it were the Seven that guided him that day rather than believing in his own healing skill.

And sure enough the more time he spent on that blasted island the calmer Sandor had become, but he doubted it had anything to do with the Gods at all if there even were any. More so it were the missing opportunities of drinking himself to sleep or the change to practice his sword fighting skills and his habit of shouting at the world that changed his ways in the end. It gave him the time to finally think clearly.

Sandor had always had a rough manner of speaking and although it had caused him to spontaneously burst out in loud swearing the first of many nights he would spend there, it did gave him a sort of calm at last. These days he often found himself reluctant to speak at all, much preferring the solitude that the silence brought him.

"Fine then, but don't expect me to stay because you like my buggering presence here."

That smile played around his lips again, he did so whenever Sandor swore, which was considerably less these days. It was like the man was mocking him for his ways now that he was supposedly 'gentled'.

"No Sandor I will give you your leave and even supply you with enough to make your way to a new home, wherever it may be. You have to make the path yourself, that is the only way you can find a home where you will feel truly at peace."

"Aye, I will do so" Sandor agreed.

"Did you have a certain destination in mind if I may ask?"

Sandor considered that for a moment. For a long time he had thought to cross the seas to live in the Free Cities, no-one would know him there and he could build a new life from scratch.

But that had changed when that blasted knight-woman came for a nice visit. It was most likely a ghost the ugly maid was searching for. Still it kept nagging at him. And these days he would often dream again of swirling red hair tangled around his body. The will to leave Westeros behind forever left with that and a growing feeling of traveling to the Little Bird's home to at least pay his respects to her memory had awoken.

"North" he grumbled.

"North? Are you sure about that with the winter winds growing so cold?"

"I am sure of it. There will be few people still living there with the war and the winter coming on, and even less out looking for me. I don't mind the cold much either, I'm bigger than most men and feel the cold less than others. I will survive" he jokingly added. Still it was a valid argument, Sandor knew.

Elder Brother gave a nod "I see you have already thought this over. Very well then, we will begin preparations soon so you can be on your way. I suppose you don't want to stay here for much longer now that you've made your decision."

Sandor was thankful for that. Elder Brother understood him in his ways and it made his life on the island just that tiny bit more bearable even if there was only a short time left.

And so he found himself on the road a few weeks later. They had set him up with supplies that would assure he would be able to spend the nights outside when he wouldn't be able to find an inn. He had also received enough money to at least be able to buy new supplies when needed.

They didn't return his weapons and armor however.

Those had belonged to the Hound and the Hound was dead.

He didn't like the thought at first, leaving without any decent weapons to defend himself with. But they had the right of it. He no longer was the killing raging drunk he was before. And he wasn't planning on going back to that life either. If the need had arisen he could always use the dagger. But mostly his size and strength alone were mostly enough to send any man cowering away.

So he left with only some robes that would keep him warm on his journey northwards and a dagger for practical purposes.

He had made good progress as he was at least allowed to keep his horse. Elder Brother had said that it would be no good if he went travelling on foot with that bad leg of his. It didn't even bother Sandor that much anymore, he still had a bit of a limp but he had grown accustomed to it and he could make his ways about as good as any other man.

He suspected the men tending to the horses had convinced Elder Brother to agree giving him his horse to travel with. The poor sod that had his ear bitten off while Sandor was still in sickbed and unable to tend to Stanger himself still cried out at night about enormous black horses with sharpened teeth coming to get him. They had even tried renaming the imposing black warhorse to Driftwood and crazier still his brothers expected him to just accept that. Even though his brothers kept to it Sandor would not agree and kept on calling him Stranger. Luckily they never noticed as he wasn't allowed to speak most of the time anyway. Sandor couldn't help but let out a dark laugh at the memory and patted Stanger on his neck who let out a snort in reply.

It was slowly growing darker again and Sandor started looking for an inn. He was lucky this time. Just before the dark had completely settled he found an inn at the side of the road. It was a simple place and the innkeeper was happy enough to see him; guests were becoming rarer these days now that winter was slowly but surely creeping upon them.

He paid for a hot meal and headed straight towards his room, he liked to be by himself rather than talking to someone, he supposed it was only natural after the long quiet he had lived in on the island. As soon as he opened the door he made his way towards the bed and slumped down on it.

So this is it then, he thought, the start of a new life. Or was it really? Hadn't his new life already started the moment the little brat had left him to die besides that river?

It mattered not, he had to forge his own path now and it wasn't like to be an easy one with all the snow drifting down these days.

He had counted on it though, so he would not further complain about it. He closed his eyes then and started drifting off to sleep.

His vision filled with fire, it was blazing though it did not burn him. No, this fire was different, caressing almost. And then her face came into view, dancing as vivid before him as if he had only seen her yesterday. He flaming hair smelled of a bright autumn day.

With that image on his mind he fell into a deep peaceful sleep.