He roared in pain as she pulled. Next to him his tunic and what was left of his armor were piled sloppily as he rested on his back. Within his leather brigandine were berries Myrna hastily gathered and some had spilled on the dirt from Sandor rushing her to aid him. She was the one that had to carry everything they had, little as it was, because of his injury. Myrna's right hand now grabbed a hold of his forearm tightly as her left hand grabbed his wrist and she pulled. They had found themselves under a bridge which was the closest shelter they could find from the incoming storm. It now poured around them.

He told her what she had to do to help him and that this procedure could not be rushed. He gave her a threat if she ended up damaging his shoulder. Sandor was beginning to sweat, as was she but from nerves. Hearing the sound of his pain and the possibility of doing him more harm if this was done wrong weighed on her mind. In order to prevent her hands from slipping off of him she had to squeeze as tight as she could.

Myrna couldn't help but notice how purple and puffy his shoulder had become. Everything surrounding that bruise was so fair. His skin looked as if it had never been kissed by the sun. Old battle scars and sores from where his armor might have pinched him were scattered all over his torso and shoulders. Her eyes being drawn to observe him made her loosen her grip and he noticed.

"Don't fucking stop, stupid girl…" he barked through the pain.

She glared as she strengthened her pull. "If you call me that again I'll stop helping," Myrna warned.

Finally they heard a pop. Myrna was repulsed at the noise and dropped Sandor's arm as he sighed in relief. "Seven bloody buggering hells! That feels so much better!" he grabbed his shoulder with his opposite hand and rubbed it.

"That quick?" Myrna, still disgusted by what she just heard, kept her distance while still making sure she remained under the bridge.

He looked at her and noticed her behavior. "Quit wrinkling your little nose like that at me. I didn't bat an eye when I saw your burned hand… and back," he added.

"That's different," was all she can say to defend herself. Crossing her arms she looked away and towards the wall of rain next to them. The scratches on her side bothered her, but before they were forced to find shelter she had washed the dirt off of her from a nearby stream. She hoped it would not become infected and that a rinse was enough. Then she went to grab her belly as it began to ache. They had no proper tools to hunt with. That was when Myrna remembered the berries.

Myrna circled around where Sandor was lying and went to organize the mess she had dropped. Since now his tunic was off she flattened that out and picked up the brigandine to pour the berries on the tunic. Putting that aside she picked up the berries that had fallen on the dirt and put them with the rest. Muddy berries wasn't exactly her favorite thing to eat but her stomach demanded something. When she popped one in her mouth she must have made a face because Sandor cackled at her. She ignored him and continued to eat despite her mouth tasting of dirt. As long as her stomach was satisfied she would be alright.

Myrna's mind was now no longer occupied by Sandor's injury and now it went back to the previous day. The Stark girls were still with her brother. That worried her. On top of that Brenda had snapped and she hadn't a clue what her fate was.

"Stop worrying about them," Sandor broke her thought process. It was as if he could read her mind now. "They didn't give a rat's arse about us anyway. Only good they were was that they had coin," he sounded rather mournful about that last part.

A chill made her cross her arms and Sandor finally made his way over to finish what was left of their tiny meal and threw on his tunic to shield himself from the brisk temperature. He tightened the lace in front as she began to feel broody. "What are we to do without coin?" she asked almost in a rhetorical manner. "No horse, no goods… just the clothes on our backs," Myrna went on and hugged her knees to her chest.

"I still have my sword, and your dagger…" he remarked.

"You always have your sword," Myrna retorted. He refused to let her set it down no farther than a foot away from him when they arrived at their spot. "And give me back my dagger before someone else tries to kill me," she reached out with an open palm. He had no witty reply to that and grabbed her dagger from his belt to hand it to her. Myrna placed it on herself and felt better.

The silence between them allowed her to brainstorm ideas for the first time since they fell. As she sorted out what they could do in her mind one idea stuck out but it was risky. Myrna travelled a lot before she was captured and brought to Kings Landing, but there was one village she lived in for the majority of the time. It was a small village outside of Fairmarket. Back then she believed only about 50 people inhabited it. Myrna was close with the Elder and his wife as they were the ones that found her half starving not too far from their village. That was after I lost my friend from home, she remembered and mourned. The worst thing that could happen to a person was to end up traveling alone with nowhere to go. That village saved her. After putting more thought into it the more she believed this was their best chance for survival. Perhaps they would save her again and hopefully Sandor, too.

"Do you know how far away Fairmarket is?" Myrna questioned.

Sandor paused before answering. "If we had a horse, mayhaps three days with good weather. Without a horse, I say who fucking cares," he rasped.

"I may be able to give us an actual place to live for a while if you would start caring," she scolded.

"It doesn't matter if I care. What matters is if we have a horse. I lost Stranger and I don't see any horses for the taking around here, do you?" he spat back. "What business do you have in fucking Fairmarket anyway?"

She was not sure where to begin. "I lived in a small village on the outskirts of Fairmarket for some years. It actually was the last place I lived before I went to Kings Landing," she began.

"If it were a pleasant stay you would have remained there. What made you leave?"

"Was against my will. The elder's wife had me fetch some sourleaf. Had an ache in her tooth. So I went to find some outside the village when a man who I did not recognize but seemed friendly enough chatted me up. But before I knew it I was…" Myrna drifted off.

Sandor gave her a hard look. "What did he do?"

"To be quite honest I don't remember. I think I passed out somehow. Then when I awoke I was on a wagon headed towards the capital…" Myrna reminisced. And then I met you, she thought and her heart fluttered suddenly.

"Alright. We make for Fairmarket," he concluded.

Myrna sat up. "Well, wait… there is more you need to know," she said hesitantly.

"Well, bloody speak up!" he barked.

"They did not know me as Myrna Beaumont…"

"Huh?"

"I was not me. They knew me as Ina Rivers. Bastard from a small fisherman village near Riverrun. That was the story I thought would be best, and they believed me and took me in," she elaborated.

He roared a great laugh. It made her jump. "And what will my buggering name be, woman? Surely not something that makes me sound like a whore!" he smiled viciously.

"Pardon! Ina was my mother's name! She was a great lady, head of one of the best Northern houses after the Starks!" Myrna hollered at him nearly ready to get on her feet.

Sandor's jaw tightened. "Calm down. That was a bloody jape, no need to give me a history lesson…" he softened his tone. He could see Myrna was still offended by the way she would not relax. "Your dead mother had a pretty name," he tried to further remedy what he did but anything nice that came out of his mouth just sounded sour even if he meant it.

"Thank you," she replied flatly as she gazed once again to the rain. Her eyes traced the hills yonder as she heard rustling next to her. Then a sharp tap was felt on her shoulder and when she turned her head Sandor was squatting next to her. His gaze was hard, and the sweat from earlier made his scar glisten.

He pointed at it. "No one is going to fucking believe me if I tell them I am anyone but Joffrey's dog once they lay their eyes on me. Don't you understand?" he talked down to her.

"It was a small village, it's possible they wouldn't be able to notice…" she replied softly.

"Everyone will notice this. Don't be stupid, now!"

The softness in her tone left. "You know what? I think you are the one who is most bothered by your own face! Right now I don't even notice when I look at you! You might even pass as comely with my eyes, but you're so stubborn you wouldn't even notice a compliment if it smacked you across the face!" she huffed after that and looked away. Then he surprised her as he plopped down on his bottom and wrapped his arm tightly around her and pulled her in. His movement made him groan slightly, as that arm was the one she had been pulling on for so long. It must have been sore yet. "You shouldn't…" she tried to muster out words but it proved too difficult.

He leaned back and took her with him. Myrna stared up at the bottom of the bridge as she was nestled within his arm. "We're alright. Don't act like this isn't what you want," he reassured her but couldn't without some sort of jest. "It'll be a cold night and every night to come from now on until we get a roof over our head. And I'm not lighting a bloody fire…"

Before Myrna had doubled with him on horses and leaned against him, but then it was different. He wore armor always and his touch was hard and cold. Now she could feel flesh through the cloth he wore. Soft, yet firm. There was a stench to him but she did not mind. After everything they had been through she probably didn't smell of lavender and lilacs either. Her heartbeat began to slow as she adjusted and rested her head against him willingly. What would she tell folk when they make it to the village she called home for a few years? Especially with him at her side? What is he to her? Myrna felt this was an important thing she should settle before they arrived.

"Are you alright with our plan? Do you have a name in mind that you can use?" she eased into the topic.

For a moment she thought he did not hear her but he answered after thinking it over. "I don't lie. Always hated bloody liars. But for our sake…" he grumbled. "The village should be remote enough for us hide. If not, we can fight our way free again. Should be used to it by now. And a new name? Bugger I know. Anything will do as long as they don't know who I am by just looking at me," he explained.

As Myrna took her time to ponder on what to say next she began to hear his snoring. He must be exhausted, she thought. She was tired, too, and was not as beaten up as he was. Her eyelids grew heavy and she drifted off.

A familiar feeling overcame her as she found herself in another environment. The wood beneath her feet was made from Ironwood, and mounted trophies hung on the high walls. Her nose picked up the earthy scent that reminded her of home. This was where her nightmares usually took place, but the burning corpses of her parents were not there. Her brother who wept over the corpses was also missing. The worst memory she could possibly hold and that haunted her had left. Myrna turned to look behind her, and still nothing. It was painfully quiet. This place was frozen in time.

There was a doorway that lead to another part of her manor but it was black. A thick shadow was casted beyond the frame and the room was pitch black. Myrna remembered that used to be the dining area with windows that reached the ceiling so you could feel as if you were a part of the forest as you enjoyed your meal. That room should be gleaming even if it were just the moon's rays shining down if you happened to be down here at night. Not only was that odd, but she felt like she was being watched.

"Who's there?" Myrna choked out.

The two figures came out from the shadow and Myrna held back a sob as she put her hand over her mouth. It was the Stark girls. The girls looked so sickly. Their skin almost gray, and their eyesockets a deep purple that made their eyeballs stand out. "You abandoned us," Arya moaned.

"And you took my husband," Sansa added. Slowly they walked closer to her but Myrna wanted them nowhere near her. As she backed up she suddenly felt nothing under her feet just as she had experienced when Brenda forced her off an edge of a cliff.

The feeling of falling made her leap out of her sleep and she sat up breathing heavily. A bead of sweat rolled down her face. "We need to help them!" she cried out. When she faced Sandor he was still asleep. Myrna put her hands on his torso and shook him awake. He scowled and cursed as he blinked his eyes open. It did not take him long to notice the shaken state Myrna was in.

"What happened?" he murmured as he sat up with her. When she shakily described the dream she had he rubbed his hand down his face and made an annoyed sound. "I told you not to worry about those girls. He's taking them home, nothing more," he tried to lay back down but Myrna grabbed his shirt. He scowled harder.

Myrna shook her head. "You should know my brother by now! He's insane! He's probably torturing them right now!" she exclaimed.

"My brother is probably torturing someone right now, too. What of it? What are we to do? Sure, that pretty Stark girl deserves better. I would have given her what she needed. But she refused my help! Whatever that happens to her is what she decided for herself," he now made it clear that he was done talking for the night and turned over on his side away from her.

Something made Myrna stop herself from defending the girl. The way Sandor had put it, it really made it sound like there was a part of him that wanted Sansa. On top of that he was no longer wrapping his arm around her as they slept. She should not allow something as trivial as this to hurt her feelings but it did. Myrna laid back down, with her back facing him and the night feeling a little colder.