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CHAPTER 10

SANSA

Still half asleep, Sansa turned back and reached for the other side of the bed just to make sure he was there, but she only touched the cot. Scared, she got up quickly and rubbed her eyes. Was it possible that he hadn't come back yet? She felt relieved when she saw him sleeping on the chair beside the cot. Why he hadn't slept in the bed? she wondered. Dawn was breaking and she thought about letting him sleep a little bit more, but she remembered he wanted to leave soon, so she touched his shoulder to wake him up. He opened his eyes suddenly, instantly wide-awake. His glaze relaxed when it focused on her.

"It's me…" she said, "Dawn is coming. Good morning."

Sandor yawned, and stretched his body, surprisingly cat like, for being such a large man.

"Did you enjoy your bath?" he asked.

"Yes. I'd like to tell the innkeeper to prepare another one for you. You need it too."

"Don't. I'll manage with that water over there. We should leave before everybody gets up; there are too many people here. Go pack our things."

Sansa got dressed and hurried to pack their few belongings. She peeked at him as he removed his tunic to wash. Though he was tall and muscled, he was scarred by countless injuries all over his body. That meant he had been through so much pain… He occasionally also rubbed his forehead – probably he had a headache after all he'd drunk last night. When they were ready, they left the room and went downstairs. It was all quiet and nobody seemed to be awake yet.

"I'm going to look for the innkeeper's wife," he said "Last night I paid her for a package of food and I'm not leaving without it. You go to the stables and have the horses prepared; I'll be over there as soon as I find that old hag"

Sansa nodded and picked up their rucksack, and then made her way to the stables. She walked slowly, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun. She had rested well last night—much better than she had in the last two weeks, and she felt strong enough to continue the journey. The stable was a wooden construction just a few steps back from the main house. Everything seemed to be quiet, but as she turned the corner of the inn, she saw there were four men tying up their horses. The youngest one seemed to be a squire, but the others wore a falcon and a half moon embroidered on their clothes. They were men of the Vale, men of her "father". A cold shiver ran through her spine and fear paralyzed her body. She tried to run away but it was too late, they had already noticed her.

"Ey, you girl! Where are you going? Don't leave us so soon…" one them said. "If I'd known there were such pretty girls here I would have come earlier!" All of them laughed with the man while Sansa stepped back, trying to make her way back to where Clegane was.

One of them remained silent and staring at her. "Wait a moment…" he said cautiously, "I think I know you…" He walked towards her with quick steps and grabbed her wrist. "Oh, yes, I know you! you are Littlefinger's bastard daughter! I saw you once a few months ago at an assembly organized by your father. Don't you know he's been very worried about you?" He smiled in a nasty way but the other knights were surprised.

"Really? We have to make sure we brought him back the right girl or there will be no reward for any of us!"

"I'm sorry Ser…" she faltered "but you - you must have mistaken me for someone else…" her mouth was dry and the man was hurting her wrist "I'm – I'm here with my husband…"

"Your husband? Come on, girl! I bet you haven't married during the last month, have you?" She struggled to free herself from his grip but he was already dragging her where the other men were.

"No, please Ser… I'm not his daughter!"

"I tell you what we are going to do: if you are a good girl and keep silent, we'll take you back to your daddy, but if you don't…"

"NO" an unmistakable voice rasped out behind them. Sandor was walking towards the stable; his steps were like a predator's. He left the food package on the ground and stood in front of them, with clenched fists and tense muscles; ready to fight. His gaze was cold and hollow and every part of his body was poised for a fight. "I'll tell you what you're going to do. You free the girl and I may let you live a little longer."

Sansa shivered; He's going to kill them all…

"So you are the husband? You're too ugly to have such a pretty wife! Hahahaha!" one of the men mocked him and all the rest laughed with him.

"Jealous? Yeah, you should be. Now, get your pretty little asses on your horses and ride back to the shitty hole from where you came!"

"I know you too, you were Joffrey's dog," said another knight. "Don't you know you should be dead?"

He stared at them and remained silent; waiting for them to make a mistake. The air became increasingly tense; she could even hear her own heartbeat, in her ears. Everybody was alert; their hands close to their sword hilts.

"Come on Ser. You may have found her first, but you don't even know how to deal with a lady—you even punched her!" said the third one pointing at Sansa's face. "Look, I bet you want the reward too but there are more of us, and we are younger, old dog. You've lost this opportunity. But I promise we'll take good care of her—we know how bastard girls like to be treated, don't we friends? Ha ha ha!"

Sandor twitched the burnt side of his mouth into a wolfish smile and shrugged: "Yeah, I may be older, but you'll be soon in hell, summer boys. And don't call me Ser." He drew his sword from its scabbard with a quick movement and hammered at the man, who could barely withstand the blow. He was too slow, and when Clegane threw another strong cut to his side, his sword cut clothing, flesh and bones all at once and the man fell to the ground in front his comrades.

Everything happened very fast after that. The two other men attacked Sandor at once, and the swords clashed, with sickening sound of metal on metal. The one who held her gripped her wrists tighter, keeping them behind her back with one hand and holding his sword with the other. "Stay quiet girl. The Hound will be dead soon" he whispered in her ear. She looked at the men who were fighting. Sandor was more skilled, and much stronger, and the men could barely stop his blows, which were well timed, and well-aimed. The others, however, were younger and faster and they had already managed to cut his right arm. His limp was giving him problems when fighting, as well. He took a step back and tripped over the food package, falling back to the ground. One of the men took advantage of that and hit him hard with his sword, but Sandor whirled on the ground and avoided the blow, although it gave him a deep cut in his left side. Howling in pain, he still succeeded in throwing a hard kick to the leg of the other, causing him to land on his butt. Sandor managed to get up quickly; he lifted his sword over his head and slashed his it down on the man's shoulder, almost ripping the arm from the body. The man screamed while blood spread on the ground.

Sansa looked at the man at his back. He hesitated for a moment as he looked at the two dead men, but then he let her go and ran to help the other one. "You'd better yield or when we are finished with you, we'll kill her too!" he yelled.

"Bugger you, boy!" Clegane snarled, and the steel crashed again between the three men. Sandor's shirt was completely stained with blood and his face was twisted with pain. He was losing too much blood from the wound. They are killing him, Sansa realized. She looked around desperately. I wish there was something I could do... she looked at the ground, grabbed up a stone and threw it at the men of the Vale. The stone passed away from them without being noticed. She threw a second one that moved closer, until the third stone hit one of them right between his shoulder blades. It wasn't a heavy blow, but it was enough for him to lose concentration and look sideways. Clegane didn't lose the opportunity and hit him hard on the neck. He fell heavily. The last one was scared and began to step back. Sandor had a frightening appearance, all covered in blood. He followed him until his back was against a wall. "No, please… you can take her, I don't want the reward anymore…please…"

"I don't want it either, boy. Go say hello to your friends". The man tried to fight back but his movements were sloppy, and Sandor's sword impaled his chest, easily.

Sansa looked at the place; there were four dead men and blood everywhere. She felt sick and did all she could to not vomit. He had knelt, breathing heavily, and there were already some people watching through the windows of the inn. Sansa ran towards him, "Are you ok? You're hurt!"

"I'll survive, but we need to leave now. Everybody in this house should be awake by now and if anyone has heard about the reward…" Sansa opened her eyes very scared. "Go grab the rucksack and the food and let's get the hell out of here as soon as possible!"

She nodded, picked up the things, and put them on the horses. He howled of pain when he mounted on Stranger and she thought he couldn't ride, but the horse knew what was required of him and broke into a fast gallop. She followed them on her male horse and they left the inn leaving a trail of death behind them.

They rode swiftly down the main road and after a while, they went into the woods. She lost track of the time they were riding and they didn't stop until her horse got too exhausted to keep going. Sandor looked sick, and he almost rolled to the ground from Stranger. Sansa rush to help him to lie on a tree. He was sweating and his face was a pale mask of pain.

"There is a wineskin in my saddle, bring it!" he ordered hoarsely.

As she hurried for it, he took off his cloak and tore the stained shirt. He touched the wound of his left side; it wasn't very long but it was deep enough to make him loose too much blood. It looked very bad. He took the wine and poured it over the wound. Wine and blood ran down his side and he clenched his jaw trying not to scream.

"This won't heal easily…. Do you know how to sew?" he asked.

She blinked, surprised. "I do. My septa always said I was her best student, but…"

"Then go and get a needle. There should be one between my things, on Stranger. I need you to sew this cut."

"B-but… I don't… I'm not sure I could…" she hesitated.

"Go take it now. GO!"

She ran again to the horse. Her fingers trembled as she searched for it in his bag. Finally, it pricked her fingertip, and she went back to the tree and knelt in front of him holding it carefully. "Good, now get a thread from anywhere a sew it." She took a long one off his shirt and threaded it. Sandor drank a long gulp of wine and turned his body. She was scared—how could she just simply sew somebody? She wasn't a maester; the wound could even become worse! "Come on girl!" he snarled, "I don't want to bleed to death in this fucking wood!" Sansa pulled the needle to his side. Her hands were shaking. She held the two sides of the cut, closed her eyes and pinched the flesh. Sandor snorted and stamped his fist to the ground. The thread passed through the cut and she gave another stitch. And another and another … She continued until twenty stitches covered the wound. When it was finished, she dried the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and it got covered in blood and dirt. Sandor moved very slowly and laid his back on the tree again. His sight was blurred from the pain, and he could barely talk. "Well done, little bird…" he managed to say; his voice was thick with pain. Sansa got closer and touched his forehead as she had seen maester Luwin do. It was very hot.

"Did I hurt you? How-how do you feel?"

"Oh yeah…it hurts… but I've survived much worse injuries, I guess I can survive to your hands…" He tried to laugh but he groaned instead. She tore a clean piece of cloth from his own dress and gently wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks. He let her do it without complain. She was so worried… he could have died that morning and then she'd be on the road back to Littlefinger with four strangers and his death would have been for nothing. He had risked his life for her and now he was severely hurt. Everything that had happed was because of her—it was her fault.

Sandor was staring at her. He raised his hand slowly to wipe the blood from her forehead with his thumb but he was so weak he could barely hold his arm up. Sansa took his hand and pressed her cheek in his palm; it was so warm... She could hardly hold back the tears. "I don't want you to die…I couldn't bear it…" she said softly.

His thumb stroked her cheek very lightly. "All men must die little bird."

"But not for me… I don't want you to die for me…" She didn't dare to imagine her life alone anymore. Somehow, she needed him around her, watching her back, advising her. A single tear slid down her cheek to his hand. She sniffled.

"I can't die today. I promised to keep you safe, remember?" he muttered. She nodded. "I just need to rest. Tomorrow we'll keep riding to Moat Cailin. You should rest, too."

Sansa pecked his hand and put it back in on his lap. Despite the pain, it seemed he was smiling when he closed the eyes.