Hello! And I'm sorry that it's been so long but I've had a busy few weeks, deadlines and job interviews among other things. But this update is here and I am already working on the next one. This chapter is quite short, but the next one will be longer, and hopefully will be a pleasant surprise! Thank you for the reviews, alerts and favourites. It really, truly does make writers feel much better, and much more inclined to write. Even though I've made you wait for a little while. So, please continue what you've been doing and make some suggestions! This is as much my story as it is yours.

Thank you for your continued support.

Slightlynerdy.

Wolves and Hounds.

Chapter 8.

The fields that surrounded the King's Road were littered with snow. Huge, blank and white they reminded Tarynn of some crisp parchment she had found in Maester's Luwin's room when she had been younger. He had told her that the parchment had been a gift to him from an old friend who had visited Pentos. She remembered taking the parchment when Maester Luwin hadn't been looking, finding a bit of charcoal and scrawling a messy picture on the front of it. She strained her memory, but she couldn't remember what the picture had been. When she had returned to the Maester afterwards and presented him the once clean piece of parchment, he had taken it off of her, laughed, and told the five year old Tarynn that he was going to get a frame made for it. He hadn't scolded her; he didn't even appear to have been slightly agitated.

Tarynn sighed in her saddle, and shifted her weight a little. Up ahead was the road that led north to the Wall, it was just a dirt track, scattered with some stones and rocks here and there. The rest of the King's road looped round, heading back towards the south. Jon, her half-brother, was going to the Wall, and this fork in the road was where they were supposed to say their goodbyes.

Tarynn hadn't been extremely close to Jon, she had spoken to him often enough, helped him with a few odd chores but they weren't joined at the hip. No, her bastard brother was mostly favoured by Arya and Robb, Sansa and herself always kept their distance. Perhaps it was their mother's influence. Catelyn Stark had never fully accepted that her darling Ned had fathered a child with another woman, and disgust and annoyance of that fact was always directed at Jon Snow. He didn't truly deserve it; no one can be blamed for something that they had no control over… But then again neither could Theon.

Forget him Tarynn, by the time you get back to Winterfell he would have returned to the Iron Islands, back where he belongs.

She shifted Theon from her mind, pushing him into a drawer where the rest of her forgotten memories were kept. Instead she focused on reaching her Uncle Benjen and Jon; they were riding slightly ahead of the Royal Entourage.

They are taking a different path to us, theirs is cold and harsh, ours sunny and warm. I admire their strength; it takes a lot to willingly join the Night's Watch.

She urged her horse into a gallop, flying past foot soldiers and soldiers on horseback alike. She could see her father's grey cloak rising and falling with each whisk of wind; he was riding beside the King. Robert Baratheon's son and heir to the Iron Throne rode to the left of his father. She slowed down, she had been near the back of the train of people and wagons when she had decided to ride faster and catch up with the rest of her family.

Well I only have father, Sansa and Arya now. The rest is in dear Winterfell.

Tarynn had felt that she had isolated herself from the rest of her riding comrades long enough.

She pulled sharply on the reins of her horse, and smoothly navigated herself so that she was riding quite close to her father, but close enough to be out of earshot. The soldiers around her moved to accommodate her and her horse, and she nodded at the couple who had caught her eye as they were moving out of the way. She leant back in her saddle and relaxed her arms, the cold mid morning breeze of the north washing over her face and neck.

"So wolf, decided to join your pack?"

She didn't know how he had sneaked up on her; he was clad head to toe in dark grey steel armour, his iconic helmet on his head. He didn't move his head to look at her, but then again she didn't know how he could move at all, all the metal he was wearing must weigh a ton.

"Yes, I decided to finish brooding over past memories and return to my… Well to half of my family. We've only been gone for half a morning and I already miss them… Do you have any family Sandor?" A silence stretched on between them, and she felt that she had said too much.

Perhaps he is too used to being treated with scorn and unfriendliness.

But inside that long silence there was a hint of unspoken trust between them, a trust that must have settled into place when he saved her from Theon's… delusions. That glimmer of trust, and heroic tendency on Sandor's part, alerted Tarynn to the fact that the Hound can't be inherently evil.

There has to be a small shard of good in him somewhere, and I plan on finding it.

After what seemed to be a century, Sandor broke the silence, his distinctive voice echoed slightly as he spoke from within his helm, "Family… They only want one thing and that's how they can use you to better themselves. Waste of fucking time. All they want are things that will strengthen their precious house. You'll be sold Wolf, to the Knight or Lord," He spat onto the snow, "Who gives the highest bid."

She clenched her gloved fist around her horses' rein, she wanted to shout at him, tell him he's wrong.

But he's right of course, isn't that one of the reasons they wanted me to marry Theon? But then father saved me from the emotional disaster that our marriage would inevitably have been. He gave me the chance to go south… And be married to another pompous twit.

Tarynn looked down at her horses' brown coat, her voice small when she responded, "Father would never do that to me."

"Just you wait; it isn't all romance and flowers down south. You'll be given to the man who gives your father the best connections. That's how it works." His voice was unemotional; it was gruff and to the point. She felt uncomfortable hearing what he was saying, and she thought of ways to turn the tables.

"Are you married?"

There was a bark of laughter from within the helm, "Hah, only the whores will bed this ugly bastard and even then they only want my coin. Marriage is a moronic practice, the husband hardly stays faithful. Always has his eye on the other women around him." He reached up and with one hand took off his helm; he turned slightly in his saddle to face her, his scar a vivid red in the morning sunlight, "I hope I haven't scared you off the important ceremony of marriage." His eyes bored into her own and she clutched the rein tighter.

"I never wanted to marry anyway."

"Really? And why's that Wolf?" His voice rasped as he said Wolf and a tingling sensation ran up her spine.

"I…" She was about to tell him her actual reason why, how she was scared of intimacy on such a personal level, how she was unsure of what she was supposed to do once married. On how she didn't know if the man she would have to marry truly loved her. But instead she settled for a '"Don't know."

"Don't know, or don't want to tell the horrific hound. I didn't realise you were scared of me." There was a hint of sarcasm, and he lifted his wineskin to his lips.

"I'm not scared of you."

He wiped the residue of the wine off his lips with his leather glove; his voice was barely audible "Well obviously I'm doing something wrong." His response was curt and sharp, "You should be scared of me Wolf, I'm the most dangerous man you'll ever meet."

And that thrilled her.

She didn't really say to goodbye to Jon, it was a half wave as he rode off with Uncle Benjen; she instead focused all her attention on saying goodbye to the imp. He had given her a book that he thought would interest her, and in return she promised to write him about the proceedings in King's Landing at least once a month. It was slightly funny as she didn't really know Tyrion too well and she should have spent more time bidding her half brother luck in his travels. But she felt that she had known the disfigured man forever, he had that sort of enigmatic personality.

She had ridden up beside him and bid her farewells, in return he had kissed her hand.

"Keep safe Tarynn Stark, and when I return to the warmth of the south I will come visit you."

"I would like that very much Tyrion."

"Good, now I must be off, the icy expanse of the Wall awaits me."

He tapped his horse with his heel and set off, his small retinue of Lannister guards that were accompanying him following. He looked back once and she raised her hand, he nodded before continuing on his way, trying to catch up with Uncle Benjen and Jon who were far ahead.

"Tarynn we must ride fast to catch up with the King. Can you… Handle it?"

Mother must've told him that I was on my moonblood.

"Yes, don't worry about me father."

"Good."

He spurred his horse forward and galloped off at a fast pace. With a soft, "Yah." And nudge of her boot she chased after him, her horses' hooves churning up the snow. She laughed with glee as she urged her horse to gallop faster; she wanted to catch up to her father. He laughed too, the first time since Bran had fallen from the tower...

She slowed down slightly, her joy from a moment ago evaporating as she thought over the situation that her beloved Bran was in. She didn't know if he was going to get well, she didn't even know if he was going to wake. Guilt from leaving him resurfaced in her chest. The wind whipped against her hair, and the trees began to merge together as she rode past. Her mind rambled over scenarios, over the worst ones, and the best. She looked to the skies, searching the misty grey emptiness for any signs of ravens, but it was clear. No black creature caused a blot on the otherwise perfect sky.

She rode on, half standing in her saddle in her bid to overtake her father. He was quite far ahead though, and the King's retinue was even further. She urged her horse on, patting its neck as froth began to form around its mouth. A tree had fallen up ahead, the tracks in the dirt road had shown that the carts and moving house had gone around the fallen giant but Tarynn felt a rush of adrenalin in her veins.

I can make that jump. I know I can.

She corrected her riding stance, and gripped her reins. She spoke encouraging words to her steed as she began to direct her towards the tree that was blocking the road, her heart thudded in her ears and blood rushed to her head when…

There was a shout, and her horse reared, almost throwing Tarynn off had the oldest Stark not clutched to the horse's mane. In front of them was a band of strangely clad people. Feral, odd, but most of all dangerous men formed a semi circle around her and her horse which had now settled back down on the ground,

Wildings! Actual Wildings, south of the Wall.

One of the men took a step towards her, his eyes glinting in the morning sun. Whatever he said Tarynn could not understand him. He took another step; holding out his hand, in his other he had a rusted metal dagger. Her horse skipped back. She wanted to look behind herself, to see if there was anyone there, if they had surrounded her. But she didn't want to take her eyes of the man wielding a dagger, the one who was closer to her then the other two that stood on either side of him. He made the gesture again, a sly grin twisting his features, and pointed at her horse, and then at her. She understood that he wanted her horse… And probably more.

She gripped her reins, and the man again moved closer, close enough to reach out and touch the nose of her horse. Her voice was shaky when she spoke.

"Stay back! Don't come any further."

There was another shout and she looked up, her father was riding fast back towards her, Ice loose in his hand. Behind him was a group of soldiers, and even the King. Her father shouted again, but whatever he said she could not hear. The Wildling made a low guttural sound in his throat and him and his companions began to converge on her. She panicked.

Tarynn spurred her horse on, riding down the man in front of her. There was sickening crunch but she dared not look at what she had done. The fallen tree blocked her way towards the retinue that was just on the horizon, and she was too close to attempt a jump. The other two wildings came towards her slashing at her with their rusting knives, strange words dripping from their tongues. Instead she steered her horse towards the woods and rode into the underbrush.

Twigs scratched at her face and tore at her cloak, wild shrieks sounded behind her as the remainder of the wilding band pursued her into the dark forest. She whipped her head around, glancing over her shoulder.

Three remain; the fourth and fifth one must be dead then.

A shudder rippled through her, she had killed a man today. There was a distant howl as she turned her attentions back towards riding; she urged her horse over a log before sitting heavily back down in her saddle and snapping her reins. They sped through the woods, the inhuman cries of the wildings growing distant, she didn't cease riding though.

I need to get back to the King's Road, if I make a wide arc, and bypass the wildings…

She guided her horse into galloping in a wide semi-circle, ducking under low hanging branches whenever the need arose. What happened next was distorted, as if she had opened her eyes underwater. Her horse reared, and she slipped off, tumbling to the floor. There was a panicked scream which manifested into a gurgling sound, and hot liquid gushed onto her. Whatever it was splattered onto her face and she coughed and spluttered, a metallic taste resonating around her mouth. She watched, her eyes hazy, as her horse fell to the floor, a large gash across her throat, blood still bubbling out.

The wilding who had struck the killing blow to her steed advanced on her, his blade still dripping with blood. It gleamed menacingly in the dark of the forest. He spoke in the same guttural language as the one before him. With every step he took he said another word, his voice haunting, and his stance aggressive.

He brought his blade above his head, the grisly blood dripped down, matting his wild hair. She shuffled back her hands seeking for anything that could serve as a weapon. Her hands clasped around a piece of wood,

It won't kill him, but perhaps it will confuse him long enough for me to run.

She was about to throw the wood in the general direction of the wilding's face when through her distorted mind; she deciphered the sound of hooves. They grew nearer, but still the wilding advanced, a crazed look in his eyes. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel the cold, wet blade opening her skin, but instead…

She heard another scream, this time a human one, and then something grasping the front of her dress. The fabric ripped as she felt the earth fall away from her, she opened her eyes and looked into those of Sandor Clegane. She realised that he was lifting her up, and she helped him by scrambling onto his horse, sitting in front of him as he continued to ride.

"That wilding was going to split you from navel to nose."

His voice was coarse and rough in her ear, a shiver travelled up her spine and she could smell the scent of wine on his breath. She gripped the pommel of his saddle tighter, the skin over her knuckles turning white. There was a feeling of guilt set deep in her stomach, if she hadn't attempted to jump the fallen tree she wouldn't have been hemmed in by the wildings, and her horse wouldn't have been killed. She felt sorry for the creature, whose corpse now lay forgotten on the forest floor, left for the carnivorous wildlife to feast upon.

"You rode over that wilding. His face was smashed in, fragments of skull everywhere, seems like you prefer flirting with danger." His voice had hints of an accusation laced within his words.

"I didn't mean to kill him, he gave me no choice." But there was a flicker of rejection to the statement that she had just made in the back of her mind. She had meant to kill him, that's why she had ridden him down.

"You're lucky they didn't act faster, they would have had you off that horse, on the floor and raped before you could even begin to scream." As he spoke, the vibration of his words thrummed against her back, and she leaned backwards, just slightly, into the warmth that his body released.

It reminded her of the time he carried her to her bed, when she was ill.

For someone so dangerous, he makes me feel so safe.

She looked down, the front of her dress was drenched in horse blood; it was smeared over her chest. There was a rip too, where the bodice had been wrenched away from the skirt as Sandor had lifted her onto his horse. She lifted a trembling hand to her cheek, feeling the dried blood splattered there. She gasped, and began to retch.

The horse slowed, and Sandor moved quickly, jumping off the horse before helping her down. Tarynn bent over in the bushes, the contents of her stomach spilling out onto the green foliage.