They took their chances staying close to the main road that headed north. So far it had proven more helpful than trivial. A local farmer in the area was hulling a wagon with his horse and when stopped he had refused to give them a ride for he was not to go much farther. After giving them a pitiful look he hopped in the back of his wagon and ended up giving them some dried berries, edible mushrooms and turnips in a woolen sack. Myrna gave him thanks as she took the food and they watched him roll his way through the muddy road ahead as they continued their trek.

"Should've killed him and stolen the damn horse," Sandor muttered as he grabbed the sack from her hands and went to nab a mushroom from the bottom to eat it.

"Is that how you thank people? That you should've killed them?" Myrna deepened her voice to mock him.

After popping another mushroom in his mouth he shoved the sack back into her chest and she grabbed it while trying to balance herself from the impact. She scowled at him but stopped when he went farther off to the side towards a tree while unlacing himself. Myrna made herself stare off down the road while she waited impatiently for him. When she wiggled her toes she could feel caked mud in between them. If they walked too close to the main road their feet would sink into the muck. So far one of her feet had managed to slip out of her shoe from it being sucked into the mud. Sandor had a good laugh at her when that happened but that only made her mood fouler.

Too much rain during the past few days had made the road hard to travel on and Myrna feared that made their chances of running into more people slim. The thought made her refrain from grabbing something from the sack despite her stomach panging from hunger. It was important to conserve what they had until they made it to Maidenpool. Sandor was sure they were not too far away from the harbor town and there they could take a boat straight to Fairmarket. Though Myrna had no idea how they were going to be able to afford a boat ride. When she had tried to discuss that part of their measly plan Sandor ignored her. She hated being ignored by him more than hearing his wicked words.

When he made his way back she faced him once more. "Did you drink the whole bloody river?" she taunted.

"Is your red flower blooming? Why are you so fucking bitchy today?" he retorted as they started their walk along the road again.

Truth be told she was still upset over the previous night. Also his jab reminded her of a memory from Kings Landing. Sansa had spoken to her about how she had been caught by Sandor when she tried to hide her moonblood. "Is it a hobby of yours to bother women when they are flowering?"

The look he gave her told her he knew what she was talking about. "I was doing my job," he rasped.

"By barging into a young lady's chamber?"

He grinded his teeth before responding. "By barging into the king's betrothed's chamber. The one I was ordered to protect…"

"You knew what it meant when she began flowering. By the way you act around her one would think you would care more," Myrna stared blankly ahead as she pushed herself to keep walking. She found herself beginning to fumble around with her dagger she kept on her hip while her other hand held their food.

"Is this what it's about? The little bird again?" he laughed unpleasantly. "Aye, she is a pretty one. Any man would be glad to have her. But she wasn't for me," he spoke plainly.

Myrna kept her mouth shut tight as she looked down at her dirty feet. She did not want to give away how she felt but being quiet probably did not help much.

Sandor broke the silence. "I hate it when you're like this," he complained.

Her sorrows finally poured out. "I'm dirty, hungry, tired and still sore from the fall my supposed friend caused me. And I don't even know if our plan will work. And you won't tell me how we're going to get on a boat without coin. And all we have on us is our steel and some fucking turnips!" she threw the sack at him and he managed to catch it though he looked surprised. The shock turned to rage as he dropped the sack. One of his massive hands grabbed the front of her tunic and he pulled it so tight it slightly ripped and she was inches away from his face in a matter of seconds. Somehow he had managed to get dirt on his face but the redness from his scar still showed. Hot air hit her face when he yelled at her.

"You little fool! I swear sometimes you are so bloody-" he yelled until a faraway noise made him stop yelling. Both of them turned their attention behind them down the road they had covered so far. His grip on her softened but he did not let go. Instead he reached for her bicep and pulled her more off to the side where the woods grew thicker. Now it was the recognizable sound of hooves that was coming at them and they were coming at a great speed. They made it behind a dewy bush just in time before the pair of riders made themselves visible. That was when Myrna noticed the sack they had dropped in the road and she felt the hair on her arms stand on end.

Myrna whispered to him harshly, "You dropped the food you idiot!"

He hushed her and stared sternly down the road and she did the same. The first one to pass them was cloaked heavily in black that matched his mare. He did not even seem to notice the sack his horse nearly trampled. However the second rider slowed his pace and although he wore a cloak the hood was down. The man leaned over as his dark horse that matched his friend's and trotted along to examine the goods he found. His hair was short and gray but his beard was thick and black. To Myrna he was rather homely with his large round nose and squinty eyes that were under thick black eyebrows that matched his beard. The man had decided it was not worth it to get off his horse to pick up the sack so he gave his mare a kick and off he went after his friend. When the men disappeared over the sloppy hills they crawled out from behind the bush and Myrna went to grab their food that somehow survived.

"Fucking Shitmouth," Sandor growled.

Myrna picked up their food and gave him a puzzled look. "Pardon?"

He walked closer to her. "One of Gregor's pets," he informed her sullenly.

That made her belly drop. "So he… hasn't given up on me yet…" she stammered as she held the sack close to her chest. "He must be nearby. What if he…?"

"He won't have you," Sandor reassured her.

His words had an effect on her and she found a piece of comfort in them. "Let's carry on, then?" she proposed.

They brushed off their argument and stayed rather quiet the rest of the day. Myrna was grateful the food was not destroyed and decided to eat. She ate most of the dried berries by the time the sun was setting. It was clear they were not going to make it to Maidenpool that day so they kept an eye out for any kind of shelter for the night. That ended up failing, for by the time the color in the west was drowned out by the black of night they were still hiking along the road. Myrna's knees ached and she was certain she was blistering in places on her feet. Sandor stopped them and they decided to camp as best they could amongst the shadows of the woods beside them. Myrna walked behind him and watched him plop down against the trunk of a pine that had its bottom branches sawed off and removed his sword from him to set it aside. It served as a good enough shelter for them. Before Myrna took a seat she approached him and squatted as she set the sack down next to him.

"I want a look at your shoulder," she ordered.

He sighed as he loosened the collar of his dirty, beige tunic and pulled it to the side to make his injured shoulder bare. Myrna went to feel it as he looked off to the other side. "Does it hurt when it's touched?" she asked as she continued to push down in areas and noticed herself the swelling had gone down well but the area was still rather bruised.

Then her hand was pushed away and he tightened the lace again so his shoulder was covered. "I'm fine," he stated. It seemed today was not a good day for the two of them so Myrna decided to retire without another word. About a yard from where he sat against the trunk Myrna laid down on her side with her arm stretched out to act as a pillow for her head.

Their mood the next day reflected the change in weather. Breaks in the clouds made the sun able to brighten the normally dark and shadowy forest they cannot seem to get out of. Everything looked greener and more alive when it was sunny. What Myrna enjoyed was that the road was slowly beginning to dry up and walking became easier. Sandor and her were covering ground faster than the day before and their small conversations were not as heavy or angry.

"So your sigil is three dogs…" Myrna started a conversation.

He scratched his beard. "What of it?"

"Did you ever have your own pet dog at Kings Landing?" she asked.

He took the question more seriously than she anticipated. "It's not a place for dogs, took me many years to realize that. Though that was one of the few things I missed from home…"

"Home?" Myrna pushed.

He looked at her hard. "Sometimes I forget you're a Northerner and you probably don't know shit about the houses down here. I wasn't born in Kings Landing. I come from a line of honorable knights, or so they say, and my grandfather saved a Lannister with three of his dogs. From what you say? A buggering lion," he cackled. "But the dogs lost their lives so when my grandfather was honored with his own land those three dogs became my family's sigil. That's the gist of it," he concluded.

"Huh. Did not know that," Myrna dwelled in thought. "Why did you leave home?"

He grew a little quiet and Myrna worried she was being too nosey but instead of telling her to bug off he answered again. "As Gregor grew older more people began going missing or dying unexpectedly. Including my parents and a sister. Didn't want to be next," he rasped softly.

How awful, Myrna thought as she stared at him. It made her angry knowing Gregor had gotten away with so much. Also she was surprised that Sandor once had a sister but she guessed he probably did not know her too well by the way he spoke of it. She wondered what she would have been like. Was she tall and rash like the male Clegane's she knew of? Now she felt it was a good time to back off slightly on his past.

"Perhaps we will both finally find a real home in Fairmarket," Myrna hoped.

It felt like they were climbing the millionth hill since they had to begin their walk and it was a very steep one. So steep it made Myrna almost need to crawl and she heard Sandor curse as one of his feet slipped. Once they made it to the top they both stopped. Down in the distance they finally saw the sight they had been hoping to view. A little town was nestled along the Bay of Crabs, and the sunlight made the water glitter beyond the shapes of the buildings.

"I never thought we'd see it," Myrna said with a sigh.

Sandor began walking again and even quicker this time and she shortly followed. "It's within our sights but we still have a ways to walk. Let's not waste time," he barked at her.

"I know, I know…" she picked up her pace in order to keep up with his long strides.

Now the dirt road they followed turning winding, and downhill. Gravity pulled them which made it easier but both were clearly exhausted. Myrna could feel her thighs and calves burning from pushing herself and once in a while she had to wipe sweat off her hairline. Neither wanted to take a rest. They just wanted to reach their destination. From there it should be easy traveling, or so she hoped.

The dirt road took a sharp hook to the right after the land had flattened considerably. An unguarded gate was left open that was made of pink stone known in the area. Within the walls they saw men carrying timber and just as quickly as they came into view they were out of it. Their pace turned slow and cautious, and Myrna allowed Sandor to lead. After they entered the gate Myrna noticed half of the buildings were blackened by fire and were falling apart.

"Who goes there?" a voice came from their back right and Sandor put his hand on the hilt of his sword when they turned to look. It was an older, balding man wearing worn armor and a rusty sword. A scar crossed over his left eye. "We're not taking refugees. Best be on your way," he warned.

Sandor took a step in front of Myrna as if shielding her. "We don't plan on living in this shithole. Are boats still active along the harbor?"

"Aye, if you've the coin…" he eyed them suspiciously.

"That's all we're here for. Let's go," he ordered her and she obeyed.

They were not done with him. "Wait," the man called after them. Sandor returned an annoyed look. Myrna felt her heart beating faster. "I think I know youse…" he squinted his eyes at them and took a few steps closer.

"Never seen you my whole life, old man…" Sandor rasped.

The old man furrowed his brows. "Not youse. Bugger off. I'm talking to the lass," he focused in on Myrna.

Myrna blinked. "Me? You must be mistaking me for someone else, good ser…" she waved her hands and shook her head.

"She doesn't want to talk to you anyway. Leave us," Sandor grabbed her shoulder tight but the man kept speaking to them.

"Youse were the one that ran away from Fairmarket. Idina? Fiona?" he recited names and scratched his head.

Suddenly she realized they were in no real danger. "You mean Ina?" she asked him.

He clapped his hands. "Aye! You're Ina! The elders were worried sick about youse last time I took a trip out west. They think youse dead in a ditch, ha ha! Aye, I remember seeing youse once when I had to make a stop there to drop off a shipment. With all that black hair on your 'ead it'd be hard to not remember. I like a dark-headed woman," he smiled for the first time and did not seem as menacing as he had thus far despite his lusty comment. "There will be a boat heading towards Fairmarket this evenin' if that is where youse plan on heading, actually the one I have been waiting on. Folks there might have supplies to help us rebuild Maidenpool. She's seen better days…" he glanced around.

"In fact it is. I am glad we ran into you, ser…" Myrna bowed her head as Sandor kept quiet with his hand remaining on her shoulder.

He pointed behind them. "Youse best relax and wait at the inn until the boat is ready to sail. I have errands to do before then. Good day," he smiled one more time and walked deeper into town.

They waited until he was out of hearing distance before commenting. "Do I have to fucking call you Ina from now on?" he sounded displeased and removed his hand from her now that the man had left them alone.

"Only in front of others. That reminds me that we still need to come up with a name and story for you," she faced him and crossed her arms.

"That rubbish can wait 'til later. Let's get to the inn," he turned his heel and went the direction the old man pointed. Myrna followed closely but something caught her eye next to the inn. Two black mares were posted at the stables. The sudden realization made her yank Sandor's arm.

"OW!" he yowled. It was the injured side she had pulled on accident.

"Oh," Myrna let go and took a step back.

He glared viciously as he rubbed his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?"

"Look over there," Myrna pointed at the stables and the frown remained on his face but now he knew what the problem was. "They know you, right? It might be best to avoid the inn if it is truly Gregor's men who rode past us," she stated.

For awhile Sandor was deep in thought until he made a disgruntled sound that sounded like it was stuck in his throat. He was irritated. "Fuck it. We're going on," he once again made his way towards the door.

"Wait! What are you doing!? They know you and are probably on the hunt for both of us!" Myrna yelled louder than she wanted since they were right outside the inn door. She sprinted around the large man and tried to stare him down but he had none of it. Sandor easily pushed her aside and pushed open the wooden door while ducking to avoid bumping his head on the top of the frame. This man is insane, Myrna thought to herself while she meekly followed him in.

Inside it was rather dark. Some wax candles were burning on window sills where some natural light also poured in but that was it. In all honesty Myrna was happy it was dark meaning it would be harder for people to see their faces. The people she saw inside were mostly accumulating on one side where there was a tiny stage but right now no one was performing any music. She assumed everyone was too busy rebuilding this town to do anything fun. That did not stop the current residents from being rowdy however. One man had an obnoxious laugh that was constant. Even if no one was speaking he would find something to say and it would be followed with a deep laugh.

They had found a spot on the other side of the inn where no one would bother them. Both of them sat at a table on the same side with their backs facing the crowd. "It's them," he nearly growled when he tried to whisper.

"Just the two of them or are they all Gregor's men?" she asked softly.

He took a quick peek over his shoulder and stared back at her. "Just the two. No idea who the others are. Probably just men who live in this filth," he replied.

Soon the jolly mood turned sour. Apparently one joke had gone too far and one of Gregor's men was insulted. When Myrna took her turn to look over she saw Shitmouth sitting with his hooded friend. His face was beginning to turn red, but she did not know if it was from the alcohol or from anger.

Shitmouth stood up at once, nearly knocking over the table. His friend also found his feet and they both ended up glaring at each other inches away from the others face. Everything went quiet. When the innkeep hollered at them from a room deeper within the building Shitmouth spat on the floor and slowly walked around his friend and towards the door. "Fuck all you buggers. I need to take a fucking piss," he muttered as he slammed the wooden door open and walked out.

As soon as they had entered they now looked to be leaving. Right as Shitmouth made his exit Sandor stood up again and chased him. Myrna was baffled but felt she had no choice but to follow. Her mouth had opened to protest but she did not make a sound when she caught a glimpse of the remaining man that was most likely hunting them. He was still dark and hooded, but seemed to be broody now that he was seated again and taking a swig from a wooden mug. Most importantly he did not seem to be looking in their direction. Myrna swiftly escaped the building and when she scanned for Sandor she saw him with his sword in hand making his way around the right corner of the inn. He was going to kill Shitmouth.

Myrna ran as quickly as she could manage, and when she turned the same corner she saw Sandor approaching Shitmouth who was facing a tree with his back towards them. Just as she thought Sandor was about to kill a man in cold blood he threw an insult at the man to grab his attention. When Shitmouth turned around the color left his face.

"What the fuckin' 'ell!?" he hollered as he pulled out his own sword to block the first swing Sandor took. Shitmouth managed to push off Sandor's sword and tried to run. When he saw Myrna he called out for help but stopped running when she had pulled out her dagger to throw it at him. It went deep into his belly and he began to wobble. Sandor and Myrna made eye contact for a second before he went to punch Shitmouth in the back of his head sending him over and face planting into the grass. With his boot Sandor flipped Shitmouth over who was now bleeding from the mouth and looking up at them glassy eyed. He took his sword by both hands with the blade pointing down at Shitmouth's chest and pierced his heart. Only after a few seconds it was clear Shitmouth was dead.

Myrna walked over and knelt down, looking over the man before reaching for her dagger. Dead bodies did not bother her. She had seen so many over her life. "You could have told me what you were up to," she wiped her dagger on Shitmouth's tunic until the etched oak tree was visible again.

He knelt down ignoring Myrna's comment and patted down the corpse until he found what he was looking for. Sandor swung a small brown leather pouch spotted with blood in her face. "Our ticket to your precious Fairmarket," he grinned as gracious as his ruined face could manage.