A/N: Just a warning that the following chapter has a lot of ugly bloody descriptions in it, so if you can't handle those then I suggest you don't read it. Reviews are very welcome of course.

There had not been a single soul in sight for days. No living ones at least. He had come upon what had once been Saltpans a few days ago. He had intended to take that route even if Elder Brother was against it. He had heard the stories of his supposed banditry and crimes and seen the town burning from the island himself. The town was most likely deserted now but Elder Brother didn't think it safe even if the world thought him dead. He didn't take his advice. This was on his name and he would know what people would now think him capable of.

It was terrible. He had seen his share of war and bloodshed but this was something different altogether.

There was little to none left of the town. He was surrounded by the dead. It had seemed a few had tried to gather the bodies, but they had seemingly given up as in the remainders of the homes half burnt and half eaten corpses were still to be seen. The only living souls now were those of the ravens who feasted upon the body parts that were not to thoroughly burnt.

Even if it was cold outside he could imagine the immense heat the flames would have given off that night. He shuddered at the thought.

In what must've been the village square once there he found another pile of bodies gathered together. They were all women. Young women and old women and girls far too young for such a cruel fate. His stomach turned at the sight and smell of them and he quickly covered his face with his scarf. He turned around; he had seen enough to know the world would never forgive The Hound for this. He'd better stay away as far as possible from this place.

As he travelled away from that horrific place he didn't try to find an inn or a place to stay. He could not risk the chance of being recognized. In truth he wanted to gather the world together to prove them that he was not the man that had done this, that even if he was a dog he would never in his life do something as vile as that. And he had even turned away from that life forever. But he knew that the world would never believe him. Instead he rode Stranger hard to put as much distance between him and the place. It started snowing and his sight became blurry. It would only cause a small layer to appear on the ground but he would still have to stop soon to rest.

It was cold but he found a dry shelter between a bush and some rocks. He slept for some hours and ate some hard bread and then spurred Stranger on again. This cycle repeated itself for a few days.

Shortly after he had come across a small cottage, but it had been burned down. He had found the family that had lived there in various places scattered on the ground that belonged to the place.

He still didn't believe in any Gods but at the sight before him he had kneeled and prayed anyway.

The world seemed to have turned into a living hell these days. Just as he had bettered his ways the world decided to do its worst. At the sight he wondered what his purpose even was anymore. Somehow the Gods had decided that he would live and that these innocent people had to die. And in such a horrible way too.

He wouldn't bury the family, it would be better if their last purpose was to at least help some animals survive the first days of winter.

He wondered of any reasons that could've gotten the family killed off while he wandered about the place for a bit. Might be their business was in the way of another or maybe they simply swore fealty to the wrong king.

Unexpectedly he found the answer lying next to a bloodied boot. There was a weapon next to it. Dropped by whoever had slaughtered these poor people. It was an axe which had clearly had too much use. Only the hill tribes fought with steel in such a bad state.

Slaughtered for nothing but sheer bloodlust then. The thought angered him. Even before the he had found his own peace at the Quiet Isle he had never killed if he could avoid it.

The evidence that some Mountain Clan has been nearby recently was proof enough that he seemed to have reached the outskirts of the Vale. This part of Westeros was not well known to him and if it would continue to snow it would be even harder to navigate. It was too close to the mountains for his taste, the wild nature could be treacherous in the winter. He had planned on staying in between the Trident and the Vale. But it seemed that with the snowfall he had drifted eastwards a bit. He would try to navigate around it but it would be hard with his lack of sleep.

He would have to keep a watchful eye out too for the coming time. These men wouldn't be a problem for him as they were sloppy and killed only for their own pleasure. They were unorganized and their weapons all but fell apart. Still he had to be sure not to be surprised when he was resting as that would be too dangerous of a situation even for him. He went to take a quick look of what had been the family's home.

What remained of the cottage wasn't much. It had had stone walls and most of it had survived but the roof looked too unstable to even seek shelter in for one night, which was a shame since now that the place was sacked there wouldn't be a reason for dangerous folk to return here again. It was cold out and he would much like some form of shelter tonight. It wouldn't be hard to rebuilt the roof, he figured, but it would take a few days, and Sandor did not intend to stay in one place for long. In the end he had still turned Stranger back to the road again and after the dusk had already fallen he had finally settled beneath a tree with big roots after cleaning out the snow that had fallen there. He tried to keep an eye out for the men that had burned the cottage but in the end sleep had gotten to him all the same.

He had awoken half frozen and covered in snow the next morning. It was a wonder he had awoken at all. His limbs were so stiff he could hardly get up. Of course his leg wound had decided now would be the best time to begin paining him again.

With a lot of grunts he finally managed to get up on his feet. Stranger was giving him annoyed look and snickered at him. Sandor waved a hand at him "Yes, yes you'll get your breakfast soon enough, just let me take a piss first okay?" He walked around a little time before he did that though, to shake the stiffness and cold outside of his bones. At least it meant that the colder it got the more northwards he got. Sandor knew that the weather would probably soften soon enough for a while before winter truly plunged them all in a frozen hell. It often happened that way. Still, he thought, better seven freezing hells then one burning.

He fed Stranger after that and prepared a quick breakfast for himself. He saddled Stranger and gathered his stuff before he went on his way again heading north. He was far enough from Saltpans now to start looking for an inn again. By now he could use some live people around him for once. The thought of a good rest in a warm bed was what kept him going that day.