For once in his fucking life, Littlefinger keeps his word. Save for a few curious glances from the guards, Sandor experiences no difficulty passing the last bastion of protection for the Eyrie inside the Mountains of the Moon. Cautiously cantering his way through the Blood Gate, Sandor eases up on Stranger's reigns, then decides to lead him on foot up the craggy narrow trail.

The warhorse carefully navigates the pass, and Sandor keeps his eyes keened on the granite slopes jutting outward from trail, remaining alert for the fierce mountain clans. Icy winds swirl through the heavy canopy of trees surrounding the Sky way-castle, making Sandor grateful he spent his extra coin on furs, new leather jerkins and pants instead of gambling away the hours he spent waiting out the storm.

By midday Sandor has made it through the worst of the trail and rounds a narrow bend. In the distance he spies an elderly clansmen approaching, hunched over a beleaguered packhorse. "What's the word Silent Brother?" he laughs, recognizing Sandor's robes as coming from the Quiet Isle. "Heading to the Eyrie. What are you doing on this gods-be-damned trail this time of year old timer?" Sandor replies, amused the shriveled man would tease him in spite of his holy robes.

"Got a homestead next to the crick two bends past. My wife died last night and the ground's too frozen, came this way looking for a warmer spot to bury her," The man answers, glancing behind him at the bundle strapped to a wooden pallet. "Digging is my specialty," Sandor jumps off Stranger, offering his hand. "I noticed hot springs off the trail a ways west; the ground around it should be warm enough to dig a grave, even at this time of year."

Gesturing to his face, the man says,"I'm Carrig of the Stone Crows. I know you Clegane. Your experience with fire makes you a legend of sorts around here." Frowning, Sandor recalls hearing of the Burnt Men clan of the Vale. "That so?" Grinning, Carrig continues his jest,"When did you go from cutting men down to giving 'em a proper burial?"

"Well I'm a changed man now, can't you tell? Just keep your mouth shut or I might end up the Hound yet again." Carrig laughs, "Makes me no matter boy, I'm too old to fear you. Help me with her now."

Sandor carefully lifts the pallet while the Carrig dismounts, leading his horse by the reigns toward the rising steam of the hot springs. Silently Carrig points out his spot; in an hour's time the work is done. Carrig wearily pats Sandor and offers a few coins. Shaking his head Sandor watches the man for a moment, "You go on back to your cabin now, I won't take no money from you for this."

"I won't be going back there Clegane. I built that place for my wife after I stole her some forty years hence. She was a highborn girl of twelve and scared to live amongst my Clan," he chuckles. "The gods did me a good turn with her. No, I'll go back to my people to live out my days. Littlefinger don't know the cabin, you're welcome to stay there should the need arise."

Smart old sod, Sandor smiles to himself. "Many thanks. What makes you think I'll need it?"

"You ain't here as no silent brother Clegane, that much I know." Leaning forward, he hands Sandor the claw of a shadow cat mounted on a leather string. "Hang this on the door, my people will know I gave it to you. Gods go with you now, for helping me with her." Clicking his tongue at the horse, Carrig disappears into the thick snow-covered evergreen brush.

Less than an hour later Sandor rounds the second bend; he notices two small river rock markers off the main trail. Knowing such a sign would go undetected by anyone unfamiliar with the Hill tribes, Sandor recognizes them as clan directions to Carrig's cabin. By late afternoon Sandor approaches the granite gates of the Eyrie. Moving off the main trail, Sandor struggles to still his mind while hiding Stranger among the pine boughs. Raw emotions churn within him as he nears Sansa.

Despite his eagerness to reach her, he needs a plan to handle Littlefinger. Noticing the godswood, Sandor decides to contemplate his options among the weirwoods. It won't do to show up at the castle without Elder Brother. If he breaks his silence Littlefinger will recognize his rasping voice in an instant. If the sellsword's account of the Little Bird's mourning is true, in her current mental state his sudden appearance undoubtedly will cause Sansa great distress and likely cause great difficulty for them.

Deep in his soul he feels Sansa's presence long before he lays eyes on her. Snow crunching underfoot fills the silent godswood, breaking Sandor's reverie. Could it be....his heart violently pounds with anticipation, the sound echoes in his ears as the footsteps draw closer. A small blue form suddenly comes into view. She is frail and thinner than he can ever remember seeing her, exaggerating her cheekbones and giving her face an angular, haunting beauty. Her hair is no longer its natural fiery auburn but a dull reddish brown, confirming Sandor's idea about Littlefinger's trick to disguise her identity.

Sansa's eyes still remind him of the stunning blue swells of Blackwater rush, yet they lack the vibrancy he remembers in King's Landing. The drastic change in her appearance makes no difference to Sandor however; her beauty renders him breathless, sending a familiar throbbing pain straight to his heart as she draws close to the Heart tree.

Stabbing guilt courses through him, realizing her grief for him has wrought this dramatic change in her. His Little Bird appears a beaten, broken shell of her former self-and there is not a single part of Sandor that does not painfully ache for her. Rage boils within him, What the fuck has Littlefinger done to her? Remaining motionless strains his self-control, but in her weakened state he fears her response to his suddenly appearing out from behind the Heart tree.

Humming Florian and Jonquil, she tries catching the large snowflakes beginning to fall, her sweet laughter filling the godswood when she captures one on her perfect pink tongue. Laying out a white cloak over the snow she sits down, seemingly comforted by what Sandor cannot tell. No, it can't be...recognition floods his senses-it is the same cloak he wore in King's Landing. Smiling sadly, tears silently begin to fall from her eyes as she traces her finger through the snow, "I love you Sandor...I have always loved you."

Her sweet declaration shatters him, sending his words pouring forth without warning, "I know Little Bird, I know." Gasping, she jumps to her feet with a start; then she falls backward, her small form sinking into the soft deep snow covering the forest floor. "Sansa!" he shouts, forgetting himself along with the need to be quiet. Fuck, he scared the poor Little Bird out of her wits-just what he was trying to avoid. He is not far from her but she has already plunged deep into the powdery snow, soaking her clothes and hair through in moments. Quickly he scoops her into his arms; shaking her several times, he calls to her with no response.

Unable to fathom he may lose her so suddenly, desperation fills his words, "Come back to me now, damn it!" he growls, ripping off his brown robe and wrapping her securely next to his body. Moaning, Sansa whispers his name, smiling slightly as she touches his face. Hoisting her onto Stranger in an instant, he races back to Carrig's cabin with his Little Bird tucked close to him. "Are you real?" she whispers weakly. "Aye, Little Bird, I'm here-you're safe now."

Racing Stranger along the icy trail, Sandor arrives at the trail markers. Dismounting, he carefully leads Stranger through the thick underbrush toward a heavy crag outcropping; on the other side lies Carrig's discretely hidden cabin. Modest yet comfortable, with firewood stacked under the porch, after scanning the area Sandor feels the hideaway is relatively safe for their needs. Carrying her inside, he gently removes her wet clothes and shift, leaving her in only her bottom small clothes. Seeing her so thin becomes frightening as he undresses her: her ribs stick out below her breasts, and sharp hip bones alarmingly jut out from her sides. What the fuck has Littlefinger done to her? Why did I wait so long to come to here?

Sandor bars the door and bundles her securely in the furs covering the bed situated next to the hearth. Working quickly, he hopes the fire will provide her with sufficient heat even as her pale pallor takes on a bluish tinge around her lips. Sansa shivers uncontrollably, her tears remain frozen to her cheeks in spite of her many layers. Stripping down to his smallclothes Sandor climbs under the covers beside her. Gently he cradles her back next to his chest while wrapping his body around her own, and soon he feels her chilled skin beginning to heat up under his touch, their bodies creating a pleasant warmth under the furs.

"You're alright Little Bird, you're alright" he whispers into her ear, unable to resist nuzzling into the nape of her neck. Sighing softly she presses back against him,"I don't want to open my eyes Sandor. If this is a dream, I wish to stay here with you."

"I'm real Little Bird. Look at me now," he says, turning her over towards him and pressing her tightly against his chest. Reveling in feeling her soft skin next to his own he tenderly caresses her back, trying not enjoy the feeling of her soft breasts pressing enticingly against his chest in her dire state. Turning her face up to his, he holds her chin a moment and finally Sansa allows herself to look him in the face, "She said you were dead," she sobs, tears of happiness flooding her beautiful eyes as she meets his gaze. "My love, I have missed you...I prayed for you to come back to me."

"Aye, I know Sansa..I can't explain how but I felt you, all the way from the Quiet Isle. My dreams of you..." he trails off, at a loss for words, suddenly too embarrassed to give further voice to his feelings. "I know, I had dreams of you too. Vivid and they felt so real...I cannot find the words to express it myself. I feel connected to you, somehow...is that crazy?"

Holding his face in her hands she caresses his cheeks, all the while seemingly finding it difficult to believe he is with her. "No Little Bird, it's not crazy. I might have thought so if I hadn't felt the same thing..." Suddenly he is very aware of their bare skin radiating their shared warmth, his body strongly responding to the feel of her pressing against him.

Though initially he believed she would feel shy finding herself in his arms undressed, she throws her arms around his neck and laughs happily, pulling even closer to him while covering his face with kisses as though she was accustomed to doing so. "How did you find me?"

"A big female knight came looking for me; Elder Brother told her the Hound was dead, which is true Little Bird-I want no more of being a Lannister dog, or anyone else's for that matter. She suspected you weren't Baelish's daughter and her squire thought he recognized you. I had to see for myself. Baelish sent his man to the Quiet Isle looking for a septon willing to marry you off despite being wedded the Imp, he's behind me a day or so with Elder Brother."

"So you came all this way? Thank the gods-I was afraid they would not hear me!" she cries, pulling him close once more. Sandor cannot help but wonder if she notices his arousal pressed against her stomach.

"Would you like to cover up, Sansa?" he asks, knowing he should broach the subject even as he is loathe to turn loose of her. Blushing suddenly, she looks away shyly for a moment before meeting his eyes once more, "No-please, not yet. Feeling you like this...it just soothes my heart Sandor, even though I know it is...well, difficult for you and...not proper for a lady."

So she has noticed, he thinks, thrilled she is unwilling to end their embrace, just as desperate as he to prolong their intimacy for a few precious moments longer. "Forgive me Sandor, please. I should have told you how much you meant to me in King's Landing. I couldn't live with myself, thinking you had passed on without knowing I loved you."

"Shh none of that, Little Bird. It is behind us now. I would not have believed you even if you told me then. I thought such a lovely highborn girl as yourself would never have any use for an ugly scarred son of a kennel master."

"No, no...I,"

"Sansa, I wanted you more than anything back there but I was too brutal and rough, not fit for you. I didn't know any other way to get what I wanted but through force. Why do you think I took a song from you at knife point? I'm a bastard and make no mistake; it sickens me knowing I left you in the fucking lion's den to the Imp-that perverted bastard," bitterly he turns away, unable to bear the look of disgust he feels she is bound to give him.

"I needed time to change, Sansa-believe that lass; being on the Quiet Isle gave me a measure of peace, though I don't believe I was meant for such a life. I learned a quite a bit from my time there, and I have changed, not entirely but somewhat at least."

Caressing his back, she replies,"You came to me needing comfort that night; you didn't know it was yours for the asking so you took it the only way you knew how. I was too much of a child to know what to do."

"I came to you drunk off my ass, to fuck you and steal you away. You don't have to pretty it up woman," he growls, too ashamed to face her. "Well, what other way did you know to receive comfort? It was all you knew then...but you realized you needed more than that, even in such a state-that says something good about you, doesn't it?"

Burying his face in her shoulder, he doesn't answer. Maybe it does after all, he considers, maybe that is why the gods spared me. Why didn't they spare you? "I forgave you long ago my love; I hope you can forgive me for not being more helpful. Let us put it behind us. We are both so very different now." Reaching for his face, she slowly presses her mouth to his in a soft, tentative kiss, the feel of her mouth on his own sending Sandor to the Seven heavens.

"You have nothing to be sorry for Sansa-you have given me more than you know," he answers huskily, his emotions threatening to overtake him. Hot tears wet Sansa's shoulder, running down her bare back. "I am yours, as you are mine Sandor," she whispers, kissing him once more. "Aren't you wed to the Imp?"

"Not in truth, if you understand me. He never touched me, and I was forced into my vows-I doubt the Seven even acknowledges such an atrocity. Petyr stole me away from him; I think he eventually hopes I will be his." Barely able to contain his rage, Sandor hisses,"So that's what he's about?"

"Petyr is determined my marriage to Tyrion will be annulled, once my maidenhead is proven...then he plans to wed me to Harrold Hardyng," she shivers involuntarily at her own words.

Fury rises up in him the instant her words reach his ears."I'll fucking well kill all those bastards and put an end to this shit once and for all," he snarls. Staring directly into his eyes, she declares with sudden firmness,"It matters not to me what anyone believes but us, my love."

Sandor's heart swims with emotion, his heart and body overwhelmed with love for her. "Be my wife, Sansa," he chokes out, desperately clinging to her. "Yes, my love, as soon as you wish," she answers, deepening their kiss, sending passion surging through Sandor. Unable to maintain his control he gently he moves away, "Under the Heart tree, then."

Smiling, she nods while gathering the furs around her as he pulls on his pants. "Why isn't that fucking bastard Littlefinger looking for you out in this freezing weather?"

"The engagement party is going on as we speak, they are all very intoxicated and very charmed by the entertainment by now, I am sure."

Scoffing, Sandor sits next to her, "Littlefinger brought whores to your engagement party?! Why that little worthless piece of..." Placing her finger over his lips, she smiles, "Don't be too angry-how else would you have met me in the godswood?"

Laughing, he kisses her, "Aye, you've grown into a smart Little Bird at that, love. We need to make some plans to get you away from the whole lot of them, once and for all." Pulling her close, Sandor presses his mouth to hers in a long kiss, reveling in the feeling of being loved and needed for the first time in his life.