Hello everyone!
Here's a new chapter, at last! Sorry if I kept you waiting. Anyway, it's longer than usual so in a way it's like a double chapter…
Special thanks to my beta wildsky_sheri, as always and a happy new year to all of my readers!
Sansa
Lying on her bedroll with her eyes wide open, Sansa stared at the wet rocky ceiling of the cavern in which she and the Hound had spent the night. She had just woken up and to her utter surprise, she felt more rested than she had since the day that her father had been beheaded and her life had been morphed into a living nightmare by that tragic event. Who would have thought that such a gloomy environment could turn out to be so cozy and warm? shereflected as she let her gaze wander over the craggy and sinister walls. Rising on her elbow, Sansa glanced out of the mouth of the cave; the weather was still as wet as the previous afternoon, however through the thick rain, sunbeams were shyly beginning to pierce the clouds, lighting up the once shadowy floor of the forest. With some luck, the rain would stop completely before they were both ready to go.
For the first time since their departure, Sandor Clegane was sleeping late. It wasn't like him to linger in bedafter the sunrise and Sansa was far from accustomed to being the first one to rise of the two of them but she nevertheless didn't have the heart to wake him up. After four days of either sleeping against a wooden door, a tree or on pine branches, not only did the Hound deserve to rest but he also badly needed to catch up on rest in order to stay in his prime. Who knew the dangers that were to come? I wonder how he's able to sleep clad in steel, she mused distractedly as she eyed the man's old, plain grey amour. Sandor Clegane's large body lay on its back only a few feet from her, snoring lightly and stirring in a crackle of steel from time to time. His long limbs were spread around him and one of his hands rested on the ground only a few inches from Sansa. Such big, strong hands, she reflected, the thought sending shivers through her as memory of their jealous touch assailed her and images of the previous night flashed in her mind. Sitting up, Sansa's gaze travelled over the Hound's arm and slowly reached his face. From where she lay, she could only see his burns and the twisted and leathery flesh was still as gruesome as it had been on their first encounter. Naught could ever conceal nor change that cruel reality. So why did I want to kiss him again? she wondered, puzzled by her own actions. He did deserve a kiss for all the help that he gave me - I would never deny it - but two? I should've slapped him instead after the liberties that he has taken with me! Maidens were expected to gift kisses to their saviors in order to express their gratitude, it was well known and so by that gesture Sansa had only meant to show the Hound her thankfulness, not to give him permission to touch her like he had while she was brushing her hair. Sandor Clegane had even gone as far as to impudently slide his hand under her collar. That was highly improper! she mused, heat flushing her cheeks as her tummy fluttered queerly. The kiss that had ensued had come out of nowhere and the Hound had not even seemed to appreciate it at first, rendering Sansa scared that he would be mad at her for it but then the man had gently caressed her cheek and led her near the fire to eat their dinner as if nothing had happened. Once she had eaten, Sansa - who was exhausted by their long day of travel - had fallen asleep almost instantly and so there had been no more contact between the two of them on that night.
What would the Hound have done if I had not fallen asleep? He probably would have tried to kiss me again, with his tongue and all, as he had two days ago, she decided as a deep and unexpectedly exhilarating flush crept over her whole body. Abashed by her own unladylike reaction to such a brutish man, Sansa had no other option than to admit to herself that she had indeed enjoyed the Hound's touch and attention, no matter how unseemly it had been. His interest in her was unmistakable and that in itself was quite thrilling; it brought her a whole new kind of gratification that she had never experienced before but that she enjoyed thoroughly. Sandor Clegane's ways were strange to her though. He was more beast than man when it came to intimacy, she realized as a small smile unconsciously formed on her lips. Despite his age, the Hound had most likely not been with many women judging by the clumsy and coarse fashion of his approaches, offering more licks, bites and sniffing than kisses and soft caresses as would be expected of a regular grown man. Mayhap that was the reason why she had kissed him again, she decided, to show him how ladies were meant to be courted. Would the Hound listen to her if she tried to teach him how those things were meant to be done? It was hard to say but it was worth trying. Worth trying? What am I thinking? I have nothing to gain from that!
As Sansa was trying to figure out her own silly thoughts, the Hound suddenly grunted and opened his eyes.
Turning his head around, he laid his already alert gaze on her. "You're awake, little bird?" he said, snorting. "I slept too long."
Blushing instantly, Sansa replied softly, "No, you needed rest. It's still raining anyhow."
His stare was on her for some time before he sat up and glanced outside. "True, the sun is about to show itself though. We might as well wait a bit." After a yawn, the Hound rose from the ground and stretched before heading outside. "I'll go check on Stanger for a moment."
Nodding, Sansa followed his lead and stood up. The Hound's wooden comb was still lying on the soil in the cave's entrance where she had dropped it the previous night and so she strolled toward it and picked it up. Carefully, she resumed the brushing of her hair, all the while watching Sandor Clegane as he fed his fierce dark stallion. Feeling that her attention was on him, the man abruptly twisted his head around and gazed at her. His eyes were narrowed and the hint of a smirk had appeared on his lips as he chucked Stranger's hay on the ground and re-entered the cavern. Very slowly, he approached Sansa, stopping only when he was inches from her, his stare boring into her as he loomed over her. He definitely made for a frightening sight but Sansa didn't flinch from him for there was something new and exciting about that fright. She stood motionless, anticipation overcoming her as she listened to her own frantic heartbeat, waiting for something to happen.
After an unknown number of almost unbearable seconds during which time halted completely, Sandor Clegane finally spoke. "I won't stop you this time around, or else you'll never be done with that hair of yours," he muttered as he moved away from her, his gaze never once leaving her as he sat against a boulder.
For an instant, Sansa remained petrified, a strange mix of relief and disappointment overwhelming her. Her hair was still a mess though and therefore she shortly shook herself and proceeded with her task.
When her locks were finally untangled and shone as brightly as copper, Sansa walked toward the boulder where Sandor Clegane was crouched and handed him his comb. "Here, my lord. Thank you so much," she told him softly, a shy smile on her lips.
"You know I'm no buggering lord, Sansa," he rasped while grasping her wrist instead of the comb. "Shouldn't you call me Sandor now that you're kissing me?"
Sansa gasped as the Hound yanked her down. She fell over him but quickly moved off and got on her knees beside him, her palms resting flatly over his breastplate to gain some balance. The man's strong fingers were still on her wrist and he hastily grabbed her waist with his free hand to prevent her from going any further. Warmth was suffusing Sansa's whole body as she stared at him, eyes glistening with surprise. There's no point in trying to recoil from him, he's too strong, she rationalized as she sat down, letting him drag her toward him and bury his face in her hair. His breath was warm against her neck and the sensation was quite pleasurable. Instinctively, she drew back her head and shut her eyes but it wasn't long before she realized that he was snuffling her like a dog again. She wasn't able to hold back a giggle at the thought.
"What's so funny, little bird?" the Hound asked as he leaned his head back against the boulder and looked at her, a smirk on his lips.
"Nothing, it's just that you…" she trailed off, grinning and blushing madly.
"I what?" he inquired, eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip on her. "Tell me."
She surely couldn't tell him that she found his animal ways to be quite amusing and so she decided to shut him up with the only weapon that she possessed which she knew would work on him. Softly, she pressed her lips against his, offering him a short and tender kiss, the gesture inducing a satisfied grunt from him as butterflies filled her belly. He was eyeing her hungrily, mouth slightly opened when she slowly moved her head back. How can kissing such a man feel so good? she wondered, biting her lip nervously. Not truly caring to learn the answer to that question but craving for more of that weirdly pleasant fluttering, Sansa leaned her body further into his and kissed him again, this time slower, her lips lingering against his, caressing them tentatively. Both she and the Hound kept their eyes opened through the kiss and as she grew bold enough to let the tip of her tongue shyly slide over his bottom lip, Sansa saw something change in his gaze. A fire had been lit in his eyes, or so it seemed. His breathing heavy, the Hound's body had tensed but he had curiously gone still, almost impassive. His hands, although still on her, had loosened their grip and that loss of strength was not only unexpected but almost frustrating to Sansa who could only stare back at him, slightly confused by that abrupt shift in him. What's the matter with him? she wondered perplexedly, a pout forming on her lips.
His expression unreadable, the Hound seemed to ponder something for a long moment before he broke the awkward silence that stood between them. "We'd better get going, the rain has stopped," he rasped as he gently pushed her away from him and rose. "Stay here, I'll go prepare Stranger."
For an instant, Sansa stayed in place, baffled by Sandor Clegane's reaction but then she sighed and stood up. I might as well do something while I wait, she decided as she headed to the bedroll, rolled it and folded the fur. When she was done, she braided her hair and tied her lone ribbon at its end before sitting on the pine branches on which the Hound had slept. Why did he have to go so abruptly? I thought he liked my kisses, she complained inwardly, slightly irritated by his brusque and unanticipated retreat. As she was starting to grow impatient and considering going to see for herself what was taking so long, Sandor Clegane re-entered the cavern.
"You're ready, girl?" he asked as he picked up the saddle.
Still on the ground, Sansa looked up to glare at the towering man. "Yes, my lord," she answered in a dry tone after some time.
Smirking, the Hound retorted, "No more 'my lord'. I told you. Sandor. That's my name." When she did not reply, the man added in low rasp, "Is something amiss, Sansa?"
"No, of course not," she murmured coldly, head held high.
"Then stop pouting and come," he growled as he grabbed her above the elbow and raised her from the ground. Pausing to study her for an instant, Sandor Clegane continued, a hint of mirth in his gravelly voice, "Unless you'd prefer that I drag you under my arm, like that saddle."
As he voiced his threat, the man's smirk evolved into a grin and the sight was so unusual and bizarre that Sansa felt her own mouth uncontrollably curl into a wide smile.
"See, that's much better," the Hound said while caressing her cheek with calloused fingers. "Come."
He led her outside and Sansa watched as he swung the saddle over Stranger's back before circling her waist and settling her over it. They were shortly on their way, riding though a thick wood of pine trees at first, but as the day went by and they kept descending steadily, Sansa noticed a slow but definitive change in the vegetation of the vale. Conifers were gradually giving way to broad-leaved trees and the young maiden was amazed by the beauty of their autumn finery. Their leaves of varying hues of yellow and red were shining in the sunlight as thousands of summer flowers cloaked the hills from top to bottom and she had never seen anything even slightly comparable. The scenery was astounding; she couldn't stop herself from commenting on every new sight that they came across, sharing all her impressions with her companion even though the man didn't seem to share her enthusiasm. The Hound stayed mostly silent but he didn't appear to mind her excitement either and thus Sansa, who was growing increasingly more at ease and comfortable with every passing minute, kept on talking and even rested a delicate hand over one of his arms at some point during the day, a contact that lasted throughout the rest of the ride.
As the sun slowly but irrevocably approached the mountains, Sansa and her escort entered a small clearing in the middle of which was an apparition from the heavens - a robust apple tree where plump, shiny fruit flourished by the dozen.
"Apples! Fresh apples! I could hardly bear to eat those wrinkled ones we still have!" Sansa exclaimed with immense delight, as Sandor Clegane halted their mount. She could almost taste their juicy and sweet pulp from afar.
"I'll agree it won't bloody hurt to eat something that's not stale or hard enough to break a fine set of teeth," he rasped as he helped Sansa down from the horse.
The apple tree was tall and only a few branches were low enough for Sansa to pluck the fruit by herself but a fat and appetizing apple was within her reach and so she grasped it immediately. Few things had ever tasted so good to Sansa and therefore she was all smiles as she engulfed its tender flesh, all the while watching Stranger lower his head to pick a few apples on the ground for himself.
"I got rid of those mockeries of apples that we were afflicted with," Sandor Clegane said after Sansa was done eating. "I'm sure you won't complain if we bring a few of these ones instead."
Her enthusiasm was evident as she vigorously nodded and so the Hound slid his hands around her waist and lifted her from the ground, settling her on the lowest branch of the tree.
"Here, help me with that," the Hound demanded, as he pointed upward to the fruit that now surrounded her.
With plenty of apples now easy to access, Sansa began her careful plucking, handing them one by one to her companion, who was filling the saddlebag with their precious finds. As their provisions expanded and the saddlebag became fuller than it had been in weeks, the fruits within reach were getting scarcer and thus Sansa peered upward one last time to make sure that she had taken all she could. Just as she was about to reach for an apple, she felt strong hands travel from her sides to her lower back as a warm mouth pressed hungrily against her neck just below the ear. A gasp on her lips, Sansa's eyes grew wide but rapidly thinned in pleasure as she instinctively snaked her arms over her hulking assailant's shoulders. She was perched on a branch like the little bird he had so often claimed she was and from that roost she could for once look down at him - although only barely - as he tilted his head to gaze at her, eyes narrowed and burning intently again. This time, their kiss was mutual and passionate, all her previous chastity melting like snow in the summer sun. Without restraint, Sansa let the Hound's demanding tongue guide hers in a queer and almost obscene dance that made her blush madly as heat spread over her whole body in an unsettling but delicious way.
The passion of the moment overtaking her judgment, she didn't even flinch when Sandor Clegane's hands slid alarmingly high on her ribs but a creaking sound that came from the edge of the woods nonetheless caught her attention.
As Sansa was opening dreamy eyes, a voice that resounded through the forest suddenly made her jump in place. "Ooh!" she heard the voice exclaim.
In one swift movement, the Hound turned around, his left hand still possessively clasped around her waist. "What in the seven hells is that?" he hissed hoarsely, barely containing his confusion and annoyance.
"Uh… n… nothing m'lord," the voice replied in a scared whisper.
Leaving Sansa, Sandor Clegane quickly strode toward the intruder. It was a skinny woman of an age with Sansa's mother. Her hair was a shade between brown and grey, she was of average height and she looked extremely poor judging by the tattered state of her gown and worn-out cloak. At the sight of the Hound's scars, the woman's already taut face distorted with fright as she instinctively moved back from him.
"M'lord Hound! I'm s… sorry if I interrupted you, I'll leave you alone now," she cried out as she was about to turn around and flee.
"No one ever told you that you weren't supposed to spy on people?" the man rasped as he caught the woman's upper arm with his hand just in time.
"I was not spying! I was only going to pick some apples for me and the others," she retorted as she lowered panicked eyes to the ground.
"The others?" the Hound sneered. "Didn't think these damned mountains were inhabited apart from stinking goats and a few lost pilgrims. How many poxy peasants are there, hiding in these woods like bloody rats?"
"N… not many, but times are harsh, m'lord! We had to flee from the Riverlands. It was that or die burning or - who knows - even worse!"
Snorting, Sandor Clegane pulled on the woman's arm to make her look at him. "Of course," he scoffed. "Show us to that little settlement of yours, will you? I'm dying to see the jape of a village you live in." Releasing the woman's arm, he added lowly in a threatening tone while nodding toward Sansa, "And no fucking word to anyone about that thing you interrupted between the lady and I, understood?"
"Oh yes," she acquiesced with vigor.
"Fine. Go on then, we'll follow you."
The woman stared at her feet for a moment, her breathing frantic, before she abruptly headed into the woods.
Sansa was still settled on the branch and as the Hound grabbed her by the waist to place her on Stanger's saddle instead, she whispered to him in a reproachful tone, "You were very harsh with that poor woman."
"I'm harsh with everyone," he replied, looking more serious than ever.
The Hound didn't bother to straddle his horse and only led the beast by its reins as he followed in the unknown woman's path. It wasn't long before they arrived at another bigger clearing in which bleak huts had been built up. A few dirty children, seven maybe, were running and playing with one another while four women were grouped around a fire, two of them with toddlers in their laps while the others were busy mending faded clothes. As they heard the dull sound of Stranger's hooves on the ground, they all turned worried eyes on their friend and gaped when they saw her escort.
"As you can see, m'lord, we're just a bunch of poor smallfolk. We're doing no harm here-"
"Bert? Who's those people?" another woman cried out, although her expression revealed that she had already guessed the Hound's identity.
"Nice people, of course. They only want accommodation for the night, that's all," the woman named Bert answered nervously as two of her friends stood up and approached.
One of them, an old woman with long grayish-white hair lifted her hand to her mouth, her eyes suddenly widened. "You look just like her!" she said, staring at Sansa. "You're her daughter, of course. Winterfell's daughter!"
For a moment, Sansa was too dumbstruck to react, all she could do was lower her gaze on the Hound who was as silent as she, his mouth twitching. The woman named Bert gazed incredulously at her older friend for an instant but then she brusquely turned her stare on Sansa, shock filling her eyes. Oh, right, the kiss…
"I saw your mother more than once when she was your age," the old woman continued. "You're her very image; you have my word on it! My late husband - the gods bless him – used to work for one of your grandfather's bannermen. I was blessed enough to meet the Lord of Riverrun and his family on a few occasions."
"Meet them? Did you share bread and salt with them, hag?" the Hound rasped between gritted teeth. "More like you saw them from afar, hidden inside that dilapidated cabin you called your house."
"The lord of the Riverlands took the time to salute and bless us," the crone dauntlessly retorted.
"And did that blessing help you?' Sandor Clegane inquired, snorting as he approached the woman. "Seems like it didn't, looking at you now."
Why is he so mean? That was unnecessary and rude, Sansa reflected as she laid outraged eyes on the Hound, disappointed by the total lack of tact that he was showing. Apparently not noticing the change in her demeanor, the man grasped her by the waist and brought her to the ground. After recoiling from him and rapidly smoothing her skirts, Sansa headed toward the old woman to introduce herself. Two children of about six or seven years old had gotten closer to the action and were staring apprehensively in their direction while the others had all rejoined their mothers, some of them crying pitifully. The scene was so miserable that Sansa felt overwhelmed by shame; she was nonetheless able to compose herself, determined to repair the damage as much as possible.
"I am very honored to hear that you've met my lady mother and lord grandfather," she began with a bright smile as she approached the crone. "As you deduced, I am Sansa of House Stark. Who do I have the pleasure of-"
"We're back! We caught plenty of hares, a goat even!" distant joyful voices interrupted her.
As they heard the remote noises that their returning husbands made as they neared the camp, the women all appeared to grow even more distraught, exchanging wordless glances with one another as Sandor Clegane turned his prying gaze in the newcomers' direction. Three men were strolling toward the clearing, their arms filled with dead animals. They seemingly had not noticed their impromptu visitors for they were laughing and talking loudly. As they were strolling only paces from the camp, they suddenly halted in their path, finally realizing that something was wrong. The Hound had already begun walking toward them and was glaring at them with open disdain.
"You bloody smallfolk have been stealing from the noblemen's reserve, I see. Your lords never told you that their game wasn't meant for you?" Sandor Clegane spat while poking the goat that hung from one of the men's shoulders.
"We…" one of the men trailed off before frowning. "Who are you and what are you here for?"
"It's the Hound, can't you see, Aldous?" one of the women with a toddler in her lap exclaimed.
The man's skin suddenly turned white and he dropped his game on the ground. "We're only trying to survive here, ser. Please, don't tell."
The Hound snorted. "And why should I spare you? You're not in the bloody Riverlands. We're still in Westerlands territory here and I'm certain that my lord Tywin Lannister would like to hear about you buggers poaching on his lands."
"Please, ser! We're no thieves-"
"And I'm no ser," Sandor Clegane snarled menacingly.
What game is the Hound playing? Sansa wondered, frowning all the more. She knew very well that he had repudiated his ancient masters and that he was now no more attached to Tywin Lannister than these people were. Couldn't he see that they were only trying to feed their children? He was being cruel, she realized. "We won't denounce you," she heard herself say. "Give us shelter and you can count on our silence."
"Thank you, m'lady," the man exclaimed, bowing clumsily but sincerely.
"And share that meat with us," the Hound added while nodding at the dead goat that lay on the ground.
"Of course, m'lord."
The goat was long skinned and had been roasting over the fire for more than an hour. Sansa had used that spare time to become acquainted with the smallfolk that were receiving them, learning each of their names and even cradling one of the toddlers in her arms at one point to give his mother a break. As they had briefly mentioned earlier, their hosts were all honest people escaping the horrors of the war that thrived in the Riverlands and they were all thrilled to shelter the daughter of Catelyn Tully in their modest camp. Sansa was glad to lighten their day with her presence and happy to listen to their stories but she couldn't quite completely give her attention to them for she was continually distracted by Sandor Clegane's heavy and invasive stare. She tried all she could to ignore him; the man deserved it after all, and so her eyes methodically avoided the Hound's dark shape as he kept himself apart from the group and scowled at anyone who dared approach him.
When the goat was cooked at last and ready to be eaten, Sandor Clegane, who had left them a moment ago, called Sansa out from the wooden structure in which the smallfolk kept their few provisions and old mules and that would serve as a stable for Stranger for the night.
Standing up, she left the women who all gave her looks as worried as if she had just received an invitation from the Stranger himself. She couldn't help but feel slightly nervous herself as she neared the relatively remote structure and saw the Hound's tall shadow in the foreground before her, long enough that it had already reached her.
"Here you are," she heard him say as he caught her by the waist and yanked her to him. "Not too bloody disconcerted about the prospect of sleeping in one of those sloppy huts?" he hoarsely muttered in her ear.
Recoiling from him, Sansa answered dryly, "No, I'm perfectly fine with it."
Quickly, she tried to move back from him but the Hound grasped her by the wrist. "What's the matter with you, little bird?" he rasped, a scowl instantly appearing on his face.
For a moment, she was overwhelmed by a nervousness not far from fear - Sandor Clegane could be extremely intimidating when he wanted – but then she regained her courage and raised her stare to him. "Why did you have to be so mean to those poor people? They would never have done us any harm and would have shared their meat with us even without your threats!"
"How do you know?" The Hound uttered a short mirthless laugh. "The world is not as pretty as you believe, little bird. It's everyone for themselves and don't count on anyone for helping you for free. You've got to take your place, or else, you'll be eaten by the others."
"You're wrong! Kindness brings kindness!" she exclaimed as she freed her wrist from his grip.
"Where do you think you're going like this?" he growled as he unsuccessfully reached for her arm.
"Elsewhere!" she answered as she swiftly strode toward the fire.
"Sansa!" he yelled, his voice filled with anger and incomprehension as he followed her for some length but then stopped, watching her as she fled from him.
When she got to the fire, all the smallfolk followed her with their eyes as she sat among them. Did they hear anything? she wondered with concern but the answer was obvious in the compassionate looks that the women all gave her, especially Bert. Again, Sansa remembered with a deep blush, the kiss that the woman had interrupted between her and the Hound earlier that afternoon. Oh, what must she be thinking?
One of the men was busy slicing the goat when Sandor Clegane arrived a few minutes later and all eyes were on the tall man as he sat at the opposite side of the fire from Sansa. Looking tense, he glared at her for an instant but then grabbed a piece of meat and gazed elsewhere.
"M'lady Sansa," Bert suddenly whispered. "You could sleep in my hut if you'd like, with me and my two children."
Biting her lips nervously, Sansa had to fight against the urge that took her to glance interrogatingly at the Hound as she had always done throughout their travel when the time to make a choice had come. I'll decide for myself tonight, she decided. "Why not, Bert? It's nice of you to offer, I'll gladly spend the night in your hut," she replied loudly enough for her escort to understand.
"We'll find a place for you as well in one of our other huts, m'lord, don't you worry," one of the man hastily affirmed.
His stare boring deep into the fire, Sandor Clegane snorted derisively. "No need for that." Raising his stare on Sansa, he added in a low grunt, "I'll sleep outside the lady's hut. I'm not leaving her unguarded."
He makes it sound almost like a threat, the young girl reflected, a shudder going through her as she quickly lowered her troubled gaze to her meal.
When the goat had been consumed and dusk was truly upon them, Sansa followed Bert to her hut. Once inside, she was pleasantly surprised by the relative cleanliness and spaciousness of the apparently smaller habitation. There was plenty of space for her to settle her bedroll and fur on the dirt ground floor although there was obviously no intimacy to speak of in such a rustic lodging. Both of Bert's children with her late husband – a victim of the current war - were fairly young and so they went straight to bed, falling asleep on the old straw almost instantly.
"Is there anything I could do to help you further, m'lady?" Bert asked as she was leaving her children's side.
Sansa knew very well what she needed but by fearing that she would be too demanding, she hesitated for a short instant.
With a grin, Bert insisted, "Ask anything you'd like, m' lady. If I can, I'll provide."
Smiling in response, Sansa finally answered, "Asked so nicely, it would be a crime to refuse." Timidly, she added. "I feel like it's been ages since I last had the chance to clean myself. Could you… heat some water for me?"
"Why, of course, m'lady. If you'd like, I could also clean your clothes."
"Oh, thank you Bert," Sansa exclaimed with immense gratitude.
"It's my pleasure to help you, m'lady," Bert said with a slight bow. "Stay here while I take care of this. It shouldn't be too long."
"Thank you, Bert," Sansa repeated as she watched the woman duck and push aside the old pieces of leather that served as a door for the hut.
I can't believe that I'll finally be rid of all that dirt that covers me, body and clothes! It was almost like a filthy second skin even though I am accustomed to it by now, she mused with relief as she let herself fall lazily over her bedroll.
As she was shutting her eyes and letting her body relax, Sansa suddenly heard a low grunt from outside the hut. "Sansa," the Hound called.
"What is it, my lord?" she asked coldly.
The man sighed loudly but surprisingly didn't complain at being called a lord. "I'd like to talk to you."
Biting her lip for an instant, Sansa didn't move from her place for about a minute before she decided she might as well go. She couldn't hide forever after all. Sandor Clegane was waiting for her near the hut and as she approached him, he moved back and led her further into the shadow of a tall tree.
"What is it, my lord?" Sansa asked once they were far enough, looking anywhere but in his direction.
Sighing again, he muttered roughly, "Seven hells, Sansa, I already told you: don't call me my lord." Pausing to stare her down resentfully, the man added, "Anyhow, you've won. All you have left to do is to tell me what you want from me." When he saw that she would not reply, the Hound continued. "You want an apology, is that it? Fine then. I'm sorry." His tone was anything but apologetic, in fact it was almost threatening but Sansa nevertheless felt her lips curl into a small smile.
"You're not sorry for your terrible behavior towards those poor people! The only thing that you regret is that I won't talk to you anymore!" she exclaimed, amusement overcoming her against her will.
The Hound snorted at her remark. "You got that right. I don't give a rat's arse about those stinking smallfolk, but I'll try not to mistreat them too much if it makes you happy."
Well, that was certainly as close as she could ever hope to get to a proper apology from the Hound, she conceded. To be truthful, it was already a miracle that she had gotten that close with such a coarse beast. Are my kisses really that good that they can drive a man such as Sandor Clegane to act so far against his nature? Sansa wondered with amazement as a satisfied smile parted her lips.
"So, by that smile I reckon we're good now. Am I right?" the Hound asked as he caressed her cheek.
Sansa nodded, her smile now a broad grin. "I'd better go back to my hut before Bert comes back," she said softly as she abruptly fled from him again.
"As you wish, little bird," the man rasped flatly as he watched her move away from him.
His muscles were taut as if he was resisting an urge to follow her but he stayed in place and when Sansa got to the hut's door and twisted around to gaze at him one last time, he was still deep in the shadows.
"Good night… Sandor," she said shyly, before swiftly ducking and disappearing into the hut, leaving him alone in the cold of the night.