Chapter 2:
There was a steady fire crackling which had just been building since the four of them had made a combined camp. Sansa could feel Brienne's anger next to her as she moved a piece of cloth up and down her sword again and again. Arya was on her other side, her head resting on her shoulder. Sandor was sat opposite the trio, staring into the flames. She continued to look at him, and when his eyes found her she didn't look away, to her own amazement. Are you remembering? She wanted to ask. Do you remember that kiss? What made you want to kiss me? There was an unreadable emotion in his face, and his mouth twitched. She wanted to go to him.
She still wanted to the next morning, as the group made its way north. There was no concealing Brienne's displeasure at Sandor's joining them. The line of four horses went Arya, Sansa, and then Brienne as a wall between her and him. Every so often Sansa would look across to him, and one time she thought she had caught him looking at her. When they all stopped to make a small camp, after several arguments between Sandor and Brienne about location, Sansa wanted nothing more than to help him make a fire, but Brienne came roughly between them and did it herself. There was a poisonous tension between Brienne and Sandor that was constantly seething beneath the surface- well, it was certainly that way for Brienne, Sansa noticed. Sandor would insult her at given opportunity but when difficult manual tasks fell before the group he would take them up silently until she pushed him aside. He didn't question it; he simply walked away with a mumble.
When she was certain that both Arya and Brienne were asleep Sansa got up and made her way over to where Sandor lay as quietly as she could. He was lying on his back, hands on his chest moving up and down gently with his breathing. She stood over him, gazing at his arms. If she thought back far enough she could still remember when those arms had come around her to protect her from the mob that had tried to pull her from her horse, the tight grip that promised she was safe.
"You were the last person I expected to find in the woods with that bitch from Tarth," His voice made her tense. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "The last time I found a Stark standing over me she was about to smash my skull in with a rock, the stupid little cunt." He gave a malicious look over to where Arya was curled up.
"I'm sorry," Was all Sansa could say in an awkward, hushed voice. With a glance over to the other two she then said, "Have you really been looking after Arya this whole time? Since you left King's Landing?"
"I ran into her at that buggering brotherhood," Sandor replied, sitting up with his arms resting on his knees, "And I thought I could sell her to your mother at the Twins before it got a bit bloody. Been stuck with her ever since."
"Thank you." Sansa's words hung in the air creating the most awkward silence. He was so hateful towards everything and everyone yet he had done so much for her, far too much. Another debt I owe him, she thought, remembering the mob, the beating in court, the cloak, the dabbing at her bleeding lip, another favour I can never repay.
"You married the imp," Said Sandor, his voice a raw snarl. His eyes were full of contempt.
"They made me," She replied quickly, wanting to forget that day. At the very mention of it she could feel him tugging at the bottom of her gown. She was just thankful Sandor hadn't been there to see it. It had to be the one time she was glad he had left King's Landing. Every other day she would walk the halls and courtyards expecting to turn a corner and find him lurking on the other side, his face close to hers, his long arm extended to the wall blocking her path-
"She's alive because of you," She said quickly before anything unexpected came tumbling out, with another look at Arya. She had heard of the carnage that had torn through the Twins. Arya would have wanted to go in there and find Mother, cutting down anyone who got in her way. He had saved her life by pulling her out. "As I owe you my life."
Sandor gave her that look where she could feel him looking right into her mind.
"No," That was his final word. With that he turned away from her, she imagined to get some sleep. With a tiny sigh, the frustration of not being able to say something that she couldn't even fathom, she walked away.
As she lay down and closed her eyes, it was either her imagination or yearning, but something made her hear:
"I owe you mine."