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CHAPTER 7

SANSA / SANDOR

We are really leaving!, Sansa realized nervous, but hopeful. She knew it was dangerous, but it was so good to be on the road, riding north again. Each step they made would take her further form the South, the Queen, and Littlefinger. Sandor Clegane was riding his black horse, a huge beast that only he was able to handle. She felt very small next to them on her male horse. It was a good mare; she had stolen it from the Eyrie the night she fled and wish she was strong enough to withstand the ride to the Wall.

It was very early when they left. She'd tried to rest well, but it had been impossible. However, at least she had everything ready before dawn as Sandor had asked her; she'd packed just a few clothes and some food. Her cloak was warm and it covered completely her hair. He said it was better that way, so nobody could suspect of her. He'd also covered his head with a hood and wore plate armor under his clothes, though, even completely covered with the cloak, the man looked more dangerous than any other man she had meet.

Last night, Brienne and she had hugged each other and they had cried in silence. Sansa wanted her to be happy—the woman deserved it for everything she had done for her. She would miss her, but their paths needed to split if she wanted to have a chance and that she could clean her name. Maybe we would meet again when everything is over…

Sandor Clegane looked almost glad to be traveling again. He'd packed his few belongings, some wine and as much food as his horse could carry. "Pack a thick blanket to sleep with at night, the ground will be hard," he had told her, "Always ride next to me. Hide your face and your hair as much as you can. Don't talk to anybody or they'll know you are a highborn and will be fucked. Don't ask silly questions. Don't complain, I don't want to hear your chirping around me. You understand?"

She'd nodded to all of his requests; she would do what he wanted, whatever was needed, to be safe. Then she'd told him about the coins and the jewels she'd taken from Petyr. "Smart little bird!", he had said his with that wolfish smile of him, and somehow she had felt proud of herself.

Elder Brother had been the only one who had come to say goodbye to them. He'd hugged Brienne and tapped Clegane's back. "Be careful, Sansa Stark, and don't waste that man's life. There're too many people who'd like to see you two dead. Don't give them the pleasure", he'd only told to her.

Brienne had left them at the first crossroad after leaving the Quiet Isle and they had been riding alone since then. Clegane said they were going to avoid the main roads, sleep in the woods, and try to go unnoticed. He looked like he was in a good mood, though didn't talk too much while riding.

That first day they only stopped for a while to have a small lunch, and then they continued riding until the afternoon. When they finally stopped, he looked for a place to light a fire and camp. She helped to unpack their things and then watched how he took care of the fire. She knew about his fear, though he lighted theirs skillfully, as if he had done it many times before.

"Elder Brother knew me. He called me by my name, do you think he'll tell anyone?", she finally asked him. It was cold and they had hardly spoken during the day.

"Don't think so. He also knew me and didn't tell you either when you two arrived at the Isle."

He was right; maybe they could rely on him, she thought with relief. She watched him through the fire while they ate something for dinner. She could hardly see his burnt side with so little light, but he looked so ordinary now she thought herself a silly girl for being so scared by him in Kings Landing.

"What are you looking at?" he growled, "Does my face scare you more now that we are alone?"

"No! I mean…" she shrugged, "It's just a face. Meat and bones, like many others. I don't care about it anymore"

He clenched the jaw and lowered his gaze. She wondered if perhaps she was the first woman who looked at him without revulsion and the though made her feel sad for him.

"Eat something and try to rest as much as possible, girl. Tomorrow will be harder and I guess every inch of your body will ache after a whole night sleeping on the ground," he growled again.

Sansa rolled up in her cloak and lay down over her blanket. Before falling asleep, she saw him leaning against a tree, watching thoughtful at the wood.

On the morrow, he shook her shoulder to wake her up. Her whole body really ached, but she didn't say a word - she'd promised him she wouldn't complain. I'm a wolf, I can be strong. Every step and every part of her body that ached placed her nearest home, she told herself.

Fresh air, the woods, Stranger and his sword - and the girl riding next to him. That's all he needed. Sandor Clegane was certain that that was going to be his last ride because there was no way he could survive that crazy journey. He didn't care a shit; it was better to die with a sword in his hand than lying on a bed. He planned to ride as far as possible from the main roads, avoiding meeting other people. If they managed to cross the Neck alive, they'd had more possibilities to get to the Wall. He thought no one would be looking for Sansa Stark or Alayne Stone so far from the Vale, and once they had reached the North, maybe she could meet some bannermen of her father who wanted to help her.

It'd been three days since they left the Quiet Isle. Sansa didn't talk too much and Sandor liked it that way. They spent the whole day ridding by the wood, trying to go unnoticed, and although it was cold at night and she had to sleep on the ground, she did not complain even once. The only thing that he couldn't still bear was that way she looked at him when they stopped to eat or to camp. He wasn't used to it yet and made him feel uneasy.

That day they had barely talked. She was thoughtful during the journey and he didn't push for a conversation. She'd helped with the blankets and the fire and then they sat together to eat some hard cheese and dry meat. It was a poor dinner, but that was what all he could take from the monk's kitchen and they ate it in silence.

The girl was staring at the fire when she suddenly said, "I remember everything, you know? At the moment I didn't notice, but I finally did".

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"In Kings Landing, you told me everybody was a liar, and you were right. You told me what Joffrey expected of me, and that advice saved me a great deal of pain. At the tourney for Joffrey's name day, I made up a stupid story to save Ser Dontos and you backed me up. You even lied for me the day we met at the serpentines stairs."

He stared at her. The fire lighted her pale face and made her hair shone. "You never beat me; you even tried to stop it once and then you covered me with your cloak. When the mob attacked us, you were the only one who came back for me. I remember it every day." – She raised her eyes from the campfire to look at him – "You saved my life that day, but you had already saved it many times before. Do not think I'm not aware of it."

"Did I? Don't recall", he growled, looking away trying to avoid her eyes.

"But I do. You helped me; I was alone at the Lannister's mercy and you were the only person who tried to help me."

"Nonsenses, girl! They beat you anyway."

He rose slowly to stoke the embers in the now dying fire, her words spinning in his mind. These weren't the kind of things he was used to hearing about himself, and even less so from beautiful girls.

"Do you regret Joffrey's dead? You were his sworn shied for years," she still asked.

"No. He was mean since he was a child. He'd be an awful king. Did you see him die?"

"He choked on a piece of pie. He deserved it, it was a relief."

He nodded. That was true. "Fine, enough chatter for tonight. Go to sleep"

She lay down over her blanket to rest, but he still stayed awake for a while. He remembered those days too. Saving her from the riot was one of the very few things of which he felt proud. But he also recalled how he put a knife on her throat to steal a song. He couldn't stop the beatings either. He was drunk most of the times they talked and he used to scare her when he was around. Those weren't good things and he had done them anyway, so how could she believe the Hound helped her? He didn't know, but in some way, she knew he wasn't a monster like his brother; somehow, she had really seen him through the Hound's armor. That idea scared him. What was under a dog's skin? Was it something worthy? It might be, because she had trusted him with her life and was in the middle of nowhere with him. So Elder Brother was right, he thought. Maybe the Hound had done something right in his life.