Chapter 17:
Arya had argued at first, saying that she wouldn't be able to take care of Theon on her own.
"You've been taking care of yourself since we last left home," Sansa had replied, "A Greyjoy will be no problem for you."
Arya had still refused, saying this was something they needed to do together. But Sansa had stood firm. "No. Sandor and Brienne could be in trouble. It's the least I owe them, after everything they have done for us."
"If it's fighting they're struggling with, I'd be better going to look for them."
"Arya… we haven't got time to stand here arguing, will you please just do as I ask. Just once."
There had been a frightening silence between them then, with Theon blankly staring at the two of them as if they were speaking another language. Arya had given Sansa a scornful look, and then threw her arms around her.
"Be careful."
"Winterfell will be ours again come morning."
And just like that, Sansa was alone. Arya was gone, with Theon following her like a dog follows his master. With her sister gone the darkness seemed larger and more real, somehow. Not even placing her hand on Wolfsong's scabbard could calm Sansa. She thought of Sandor, and that maybe he needed her. This time it could be her saving him for once, not the other way round. She went in the opposite direction that Arya had gone. There was more than one way to get in and out of the dungeons, some more secretive than others. Once she was outside, she decided to make her way back to where they had separated into pairs. Creeping through the darkness she could once more hear crashing noises from the Great Hall. This time they were singing.
I wonder, were they singing at the Red Wedding? The sudden thought of Mother and Robb caught her off guard. Everything of her old life came back to her then, and she couldn't help but sink to her knees in a corner of complete blackness. It had been Roose Bolton who had put the knife to Robb's throat, she had heard. But then again all sorts of awful whispers were said about what had really happened at the Twins. Either way Roose Bolton is going to die.
As she crouched in her small nook thinking thoughts of vengeance and wolves howling, she could have sworn she heard the sound of pounding hooves.
Surely Arya could not have made it back to the Wolfswood so soon?
A man on a horse suddenly came into her view. Crouching forward slightly, she tried to guess if he was a Bolton, Stark or Greyjoy man. As he turned the horse, which gave a disagreeing whine, Sansa could swear she saw a cross emblazoned on his armour. She put her hand on the edge of a crate, which began to wobble. It could take her weight for a few more seconds; she just had to be sure…
It gave way with a crash. Splintered wood went flying and the horse reared in fright.
"Hey you!" He had seen her, and her stomach lurched in fear.
Sansa scrambled out from her hiding place and tried to run, but he was off his horse in an instant and suddenly had her by the hair.
"What have we here?" His voice was grainy and his breath was foul. The feel of it on her neck made her squirm, which made him tighten his grip. As he began to drag her away she ran through everything in her head in a panic.
He'll take you to Bolton.
He'll rape you first.
Not if you kill him.
She began to struggle. He slammed a hand across her mouth.
"You'll come with me without a fuss." He sneered.
If I get free and scream, it will alert more Boltons.
If I kill him, he'll scream and alert more Boltons.
She tried to reach around for Wolfsong, which she now cursed herself for putting away. As she felt her fingers close around the welcoming hilt the man suddenly gave a choking gasp and she felt blood spurt onto her back. She whirled around, yanking her sword out as she did. There was anger and terror in his eyes as he tried to lunge for her. She clutched her sword and Wolfsong howled. She could almost feel his insides twitching and bursting as she slowly withdrew the blade and he fell, to show Sandor standing behind him with his own sword covered in blood. The very sight of him made her heart sing. Without even thinking she stepped over the body between them and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. It simply made sense that it should be Sandor who had come for her. It had always been Sandor saving her, and when this was all over, she knew she would never let him go again. He took her by the hand and they fled.
"How did you find me?" She asked, as shouts and the sound of drums filled the air, "Where's Brienne?"
"With your sister," Sandor replied as he pulled her along, "She and the Greyjoy ran into us and Brienne said she would take them back and raise the alarm whilst I found you."
As they moved in and out of pillars and past the statues of the direwolves Sansa realised it was the first time Sandor had called Brienne anything other than the Bitch of Tarth. Which was when she realised they had just ran past the crypts. However, as it dawned on her that they were heading for the Godswood of Winterfell, the fact did not trouble her. She was with Sandor, who would kill for her and who had time and time again.