A quiet click woke her as she rolled over on the uncomfortable bed and she noticed the Hound was gone. the gentle lapping of the waves upon the ship's hull calmed Sansa as she slipped from beneath the covers, her bare feet cool against the rough wood.
She headed for the window, opening it slightly. Salty air rushed in as she gaze at the foreign coastline on the horizon. It had been a hard voyage, just like the captain had warned, and most of it she had spent locked up in the cabin with the Hound standing watch outside. He only spent nights in the cabin, asleep on the floor so the crew didn't ask questions.
The Hound had told her last night that they should be able to dock sometime today. A small smile crept across her lips as anticipation filled her veins. Freedom was so close!
Shutting the window firmly, she crossed back to the bed, picking up her dress from the chair. She dressed quickly, before pulling on her slippers.
A knock sounded at the door and the Hound walked in, holding a plate of bread and cheese.
"Jameslin said it won't be long now." He set the plate on the desk, watching as she began to braid her hair, her fingers shaking.
"What will we do once we dock?" She forced herself to breathe slow, calming herself with every breath as she turned her back to him.
"Find a place to spend the night." The Hound replied, pulling out the chair and sitting down. He helped himself to a hunk of cheese. "You should eat something, keep up your strength."
"I can't eat a thing." She shook her head as she finished her braid, sitting down on the bed.
"Suit yourself." He shrugged, grabbing a piece of bread. He leaned back, settling his feet on the desk. Sansa nervously fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, pulling at a wayward thread. Just when she thought she wouldn't be able to bear it any longer, a loud knock came.
"Come in." The Hound boomed, sitting up. The door creaked open, revealing Jameslin's curly head. He stepped in, bowing to her before turning back to the Hound.
"We're ready to go ashore now, ser." He quickly cast a glance her way before focusing again on the Hound. "That is, if you and your lady are ready now, ser."
The Hound swung his legs down, standing in one swift motion. "I told you, I'm no ser." He snarled, snatching up the last bit of cheese before turning to Sansa. "Are you ready to go ashore, my love?"
"Yes, I am." She replied as calmly as she could, slowly rising from the bed and reaching for her cloak. The Hound stepped to her side, carefully draping the cloak across her shoulders. She smiled up at him, her stomach fluttering with the excitement of finally going ashore.
The Hound followed the captain from the cabin, Sansa sticking closely behind. The men crawled down a rope ladder into the dingy before lowering her overboard. The Hound grasped her firmly about the waist, setting her down softly. The captain's men pushed off the ship, rowing towards the shore.
Sansa tilted back her head, basking her face in the warm sunlight. She could feel the water spraying on her face and tasted the salty air on her lips. A smile played about her face and suddenly, she felt eyes upon her face.
Opening her eyes, her gaze locked with the Hound's, his face expressionless and his eyes completely unreadable. Her smile vanished and for the first time in awhile, she felt uneasy. Suddenly freedom didn't seem so near after all.
She dropped her gaze and turned slightly away, focusing instead on the gulls that dove around their heads. Luckily, it didn't take them long to reach the shore and they rowed to the docks. The Hound reach down, easily lifting her out of the dinghy and onto the dock.
Her knees buckled slightly, the land beneath her feet felt like it was rolling still. He kept his arm loosely draped around her waist to keep her steady while he tossed a bag to the captain, who bowed once again to them.
"A pleasure to do business with you, ser." Jameslin called as they turned away. It was crowded, the smell of sweat heavily mixing with the salty sea air. The Hound stalked up the dock, Sansa hurrying beside to keep his pace. He turned towards the nearest dirt road, his eyes straight ahead on the dirt beneath their feet.
They passed a large group of people, all who turned to stare at them. Sansa felt the heat rising in her cheeks frand she adverted her eyes, focusing instead on the Hound's black armor that strode in front of her.
"They're not staring at you, girl. At least, not in the way you think." His gravelly voice low as he dropped his arm from her waist.
"What do you mean?" She asked, surprised that he knew what she was thinking.
"They're staring at me, the same way everyone in all of Westros stared." He stopped to look down at her, his dark eyes burning. "One thing that is always the same about people, where ever you go - they always noticed the scarred ones."
Sansa watched him walk away, astonished at his words. She was tempted to glance back at the people but instead she gathered her skirts and hurried to catch up with him.
"Where are we going now?" She asked, trotting to match his pace.
"Somewhere where we'll be less noticeable." He responded. "And with preferably less people."