Gravedigger I

The gravedigger rested his shovel against a tree, sat upon a rock nearby and drank from a waterskin. "I would prefer wine" he thought, but wine wasn't as abundant in that small island as it has been in King's Landing, so water would have to do, or ale. The brothers could be a pain in the arse sometimes with all their praying, but they made wonderful bitter ale. With sunset, his work as the gravedigger would end, and he would be able to drink a good pint of ale and go to bed with all his past regrets. And oh, how numerous they were… Most of them revolved around a red-haired little-bird, some of them around her dark-haired she-wolf sister, and the rest of them around the fact that he couldn't kill his monstrous brother. Since he arrived at the Quiet Isle, the king's dog turned craven, Sandor Clegane, felt like a changed man. The Hound, his ferocious persona, seemed to have been put to rest. Most of his anger was subdued, and although he didn't become a pious man and still didn't quite believed that the Gods were real, he did feel that maybe there was purpose to his life. After all, he should have been dead, and yet he was not. His life was spared somehow, so maybe he would still have time to correct some of his mistakes. But still, although he wasn't as angry at the whole world as he used to be, the fact that he didn't kill The Mountain in the end still bothered him. That was, after all, the subject of some of his talks with the Elder Brother. The rest of them revolved, as expected, around the little bird and the she-wolf sister of hers.

With a sigh he raised to his feet, with some trouble, ready to get back to work. His leg still bothered him, and although he was getting better day by day, he would probably limp for the rest of his life. "A small price to pay, after all" he thought "better a lame man than a dead man, that's for sure". Before he could resume his work, one of the brothers appeared and motioned for him to follow.

"I can't get used to the bloody silence" he thought. Not that he was a man of many words, but the silence in the Quiet Isle was disturbing. "Still, is better than the lies of Kings Landing". The silent brother guided him to the nursing house of the island. "This can't be good", Sandor thought as he entered.

A young and feverish girl was laying at the bed, with the Elder Brother tending to her. She was found the previous morning, delirious and weak. The Elder Brother helped her, the best way he could, but since then she didn't seem to get any better. It was clear that the little girl wasn't faring very well, but Sandor asked nonetheless:

"Will she live?"

"At this point, I honestly don't know." The Elder Brother answered "I did the best I could for her, but I think she might be beyond my skill. Saving her life now might be a work for the gods…"

"Then she is fucking doomed" Sandor answered readily. The Elder Brother left out a small laugh, before continuing:

"Sometimes I forget you are a convict non-believer… Anyway, this is a work for the Gods, or maybe for a great healer, someone with skill beyond mine. As it happens, there is a healer nearby that might be able to save the girl. A woods-witch, as the smallfolk call her. Her name is Lyara, I think. She lives in a small cabin in the woods, heading north."

"So… that's why you fetched me? I am to go to this… healer and bring her here?"

"Precisely. You see, all of our horses are old and weak. None of them could travel fast enough. And that beast of yours only answers to your command."

"I think it's way too much work. The girl won't last long, and you know it"

"Still, I will try to save her life as long as there is hope. I cannot force you to do this, of course, but I beg you to help me out this time. After all, you came to this island just like her: feverish and dying. And here you are."

"Here I am… Although I still don't know why"

"Maybe the Gods brought you back to do this one thing: to help save a child's life."

Sandor left out a bitter laugh before saying:

"I doubt the 'gods' even exist. But I have a debt to you. I will go to the healer."

"Good. You must part at once. With luck you will return by nightfall."

"Anything else?"

"Keep your hood on. Your… face is far too recognizable. And the Hound is supposed to be dead"

"Aye, I will do that. I will be back with the healer by nightfall"

"May the Gods be with you, Sandor Clegane"

He rode as fast as he could, never stopping. Stranger, or Driftwood, as the Brothers called him, was still a horse at its prime. Stranger has been able to keep a hard pace for a long time, and Sandor decided to take advantage of that. The house of the witch should be near by now, he thought. He doubted that the woman would be able to save the girl, but he owed to the Elder Brother at least to try. After all, if he was saved, against all odds, maybe the girl could have a chance.

A few hours later he arrived at the location. It was a small but sturdy stone cabin. The front was dominated by a great garden, with many herbs. A short old woman with long grey hair was tending to the plants. When Sandor approached, she stopped and looked upon him, with a suspicious expression:

"Greetings, brother" she said "what brings a man of the Faith to my humble house?"

"Are you Lyara?" Sandor asked

"Aye, that would be me"

"Then you must come with me at once. There is no time to lose"

She laughed, and asked:

"Just like that? You cannot demand me around, brother. You must know that"

"I do not demand, I request. There is a life at stake now: a little girl at the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother can't save her. He says only a healer of great skill can do that. You don't have to come, but if you don't, then the girl will die for sure"

"Valar morghulis, brother."

"Aye, all men must die. But she is no man, only a little girl…"

Lyara laughed and said:

"Alright then. I will see the child. Wait here for a moment. I will gather some supplies and fetch my daughter. I might need her assistance."

"Just make it quick. There is no time to lose"

The woman, Lyara, entered the house. A few moments later she returned, with a cloak over her shoulders and carrying a basket. She was followed by a girl, also cloaked and carrying a satchel. Sandor would have paid her no mind, but when she looked up and he saw her face, his heart stopped.

It was her. The Little Bird. Sansa Stark.

She was the same girl. Taller, for sure, and now showing the figure of a woman grown, not a small girl. Her long hair wasn't red as he remembered, but dark, yet she had the same big and bright Tully-blue eyes. She wore a simple blue dress and a grey cloak. The little bird obviously didn't recognize him. "And how could she?" he thought "I look like a bloody brother now. And she can't see my face…"

He tried to make sense of his feelings, but it was all a mess. That girl was the source of most of his regrets. Regrets for being unable to protect her, for leaving her at the Red Keep. He has always been a killer, and a terrible man, and that fact never bothered him before. But he felt… guilty for what happened to her. Sometimes he tried to tell himself that he wasn't to blame, that the misfortune that befallen her and her family was fault of her foolish father, and herself. It wasn't him who filled her pretty head with songs and fantasies; it wasn't him who brought her to that viper's nest that was Kings Landing and left her to fend for herself. No, he wasn't to blame for any of those things. Yet he felt responsible for not helping her. He always believed that the biggest and strongest prey over the smallest and weakest: that is the natural order of things. Cruel as it might be, it's just the way the world is. Still, when the little bird was a prey to the Lannisters he could have helped her. He should have. And because he wasn't able to do that, the girl was forced to marry the Imp, and share his bed. It made him sick to think about that. But despite all of that, the girl was there, alive and well. How did she end up there? No one knew what became of her after she escaped Kings Landing, in the chaos that followed King Joffrey's murder. What happened to her between that and now was surely quite a tale, one he was eager to hear. The Little Bird looked a bit different, for sure, with that dark hair, but he was sure it was her. It had to be. When she spoke, his doubts were subdued: it was the same voice he remembered, the same voice that once sang a song to him, amidst the fire and death while Blackwater Bay burned.

"Mother, should I fetch the mare? We cannot all mount the same horse… Even a big one like that"

"Aye, Alysanne. Go get Maiden. I will ride her; you and the brother can ride the black stallion"

"Yes, mother"

'Alysanne' left for a moment, and came back with a young and fine mare, with cream coat and white mane. The healer, Lyara, strapped the supplies to her saddle, and mounted. The Little Bird approached him, seemingly nervous. He dismounted and helped her to the saddle, mounting again right after. "This will be long ride" he thought, as they left. He felt the heat of her little body close to his, and smelled her hair, and sighed: "a long, long ride indeed".