Sansa barely slept, her dreams haunted by murderous, raping soldiers. Every little noise bothered her as she listened to the Hound snoring softly, wondering if he was sober enough to know if someone was sneaking up on them.
She rose quietly, moving closer to the horse. He was familiar with her scent now and continued grazing in the early light. She felt a presence beside her and looked up, his face barely visiblei in the dim morning light.
"Sneaking away, little bird?" His voice grated across the quiet of the morning. "That isn't very nice."
He stepped to the stream, kneeling down to drink. Sansa watched him, wondering why he was kind to her and yet treated her as if she was a burden to him. He glanced up at her, dragging his sleeve across his mouth.
Her eyes settled on the blood that was splattered on his face and with a grunt, he splashed water across his face. "Satisfied?"
She nodded as he stood. Soon they were back on the road, heading for the north. They settled into a familiar routine for the next few days - riding, resting and barely speaking.
By the third day, Sansa was growing concerned. Nothing looked familiar but then again, she had been preoccupied when they had first made the trip from Winterfell.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the Hound found a river to water the horse. Stretching her legs, Sansa gazed across the countryside.
"None of this looks familiar." She commented.
"Why should it?" He replied, refilling the skin. "I don't think you've ever been to the Twins."
"The Twins? Why are we going there?" She whipped her head towards him, her red hair a blaze.
"That's where your mother is. Your uncle is to wed one of the Frey girls." He stood up, grabbing the reins. "Since your brother went back on his bargain and married some foreign wench."
"He must have had a reason." She said defensively. The Hound simply looked at her before mounting the horse. He held out his hand and she reluctantly took it. They set off, disappearing among the rocks.
It was only a few hours before they spotted a cart on the side of the road. A man crouched next to it, fiddling with the wheel. He looked up at them as they stopped. His wheel had come off and the cart was loaded down with butchered hog meat.
"Can you give me a hand? Blasted wheel came off and I've got to get this meat delivered." He offered a friendly smile.
The Hound slipped from his horse and proceeded to pick up the full cart, holding it while the farmer slipped the wheel back on before placing it back down.
"Thank you, ser." The farmer said, turning. Quickly the Hound hit him in the head. As the man fell to the ground, the Hound pulled a dagger from his belt an bent over the unconscious farmer.
"No!" Sansa cried, sliding off the horse. "You can't just kill him!"
"Oh, I can't? And what happens when he wakes up? He'll remember my face!" He snarled.
"It isn't right." She whispered, feeling useless.
The butcher groaned and started to sit up. The Hound hit him again before yanking some rope off the cart. He angrily tied him up and left him beside the road.
Climbing onto the cart, he motioned for Sansa to get on. She looked at the horse, happily grazing beside the road.
"What about the horse?" She asked.
"We should have changed horses sooner." He stated, shifting in his seat. "Besides, I would have thought you'd want to leave him payment of some kind."
Glancing back, she reluctantly crawled up next to him. The cart wobbled back onto the road, jostling them with every bump. After a few minutes, they could see the outline of the Twins.
They slowed as they approached the Twins, the sky darkening around them. A large encampment surrounded the castle, the Stark banner waving high above the tents. Sansa leaned forward, eagerly scanning the men, searching for a familiar face.
The Hound reached forward, pushing her back in the seat. "They'll be in the castle." He growled, heading for the gate.
"Who goes there?" Demanded one of the guards as they approached. The Hound reined in the horse, stopping.
"Just a poor butcher, ser. I've got this meat for the wedding, ser." He drawled. "Got me daughter to helps me."
The guard peeked into the cart, barely glancing at their faces. "Weddings over, get out of here." The Hound brows wrinkled as he looked around.
"Something doesn't feel right." He murmured, eyes glancing around.
Sansa ignored him, climbing from the cart. She started forward, the Hound cursing as she ran. As she rounded the gateway leading to the kitchen, she heard a low howl. Her blood froze as she saw a locked stall across from her. Scratching came from inside it. Grey Wolf! Robb would never lock him up like that!
Noise from the doorway sent her scuttling back around the corner, fear coursing through her veins. Peeking around , she saw soldiers wearing the Frey sigil and armed with crossbows coming out.
They surrounded the stall, aiming their weapons. She turned away, tears streaming down her face as they shot the direwolf, his painful yelp filling the air. Sansa felt a hand on her arm, the Hound pulling her away.
"It isn't safe here." He hissed, pulling her back towards the cart. She followed, unable to speak.
A host of soldiers poured out from the stables, leading a horse bearing a prone figure. "All hail Robb Stark, King of the North!" Sansa's stomach lurched as she caught sight of the figure they were leading around - a man's body with a direwolf head.
"Robb!" She screamed, horror filling her as she fought against the Hound's grasp. He crushed her against his chest as she sobbed, dragging her as he ran.
Men had flooded the courtyard and were filing outside. Screams pierced the air, sounds of death surrounding them. The Hound grabbed the nearest horse, stabbing the man clinging to it. He mounted, dragging her up with him. The horse spun, spooked by the pungent smell of blood.
They lunged forward, racing through the throng of men. Someone struck out at them with his spear, grazing the Hound's arm before being stabbed in the back. Blood flowed from the open wound but he never flinched, only urged the horse faster.
After trampling through the slaughter, they finally broke through, racing for freedom. Onward they rode through the darkness, until she could cry no more, her eyes puffy and throat sore from sobbing.
The horse slowed to a walk as the Hound scanned the area for a safe place to camp.
"You were right." She whispered, her voice hoarse.
"About what?" He asked, looking down at her.
"All men are killers." She said bitterly.