After half a day of hard riding and pushing Stranger as fast as he liked, Viola reins him in and circles back to ride in the center of the group, between Father and Tom, allowing Lem, Thoros, and Harwin to lead the pack. The group, made up of Thoros of Myr, Lem Lemoncloak, Harwin, Jack-Be-Lucky, Likely Luke, Beardless Dick, Dennet, Notch, Tom of Sevenstrings, Chisel, and Viola travel almost silently straight through the Riverland's; a straight shot to the Quiet Isle, that would likely take a week to get to, even with them pushing their horses to near breaking point along the way.

The raiders, as Tom explained, would likely still be on the isle, and if not, they would run into them along the way. A group would break off before crossing over the isle and travel up the coast to Maidenpool, the nearest marina after Saltpans was raided, and ask what they had heard, then report back to the group on the isle, who would, with any hope, be offering aid to any Brother or Silent Sister left living. It had yet to be decided who would be among the group breaking off, but Viola had a sneaking suspicion that she would be on it, just based on the snide comments and side-eyed glares from some of the men around her not happy about a woman, The Hound's woman no less, joining them.

Father had said little to her, and what he did was laced with pity and sadness. He looked at her as though she were made of glass, ready to crack and break in a moment's notice. His eyes often glazed over with unshed tears when he thought she wasn't looking, forcing him to turn his head abruptly and blow his nose, blaming it on the cold weather and coming snow.

The Brotherhood had once been larger, as Tom explained to her on the fourth day when they stopped and made camp. Several members, including Greenbeard, who had caught up with them on the third day and now drove a covered wagon laden with items for trade in the back of the heard, were still supporters of the Brotherhood, but not of Lady Stoneheart; Mother Merciless as Greenbeard referred to her.

Viola tethers Stranger away from the other horses and makes her way to the frozen stream along camp with a bucket and a spade to break up the ice. Her nose runs into her mouth as she works, and she wipes if on the furs draped across her shoulders as she finally punches through the ice and fills the bucket. When she makes it back to where she had left Stranger, she finds Harwin leaning against a tree brandishing a whip at a furious Stranger.

She sits her bucket down roughly on the ground and storms towards the large man, ripping the whip from his hands with a snarl and tossing it into the brush. Stranger stamps his front hoof, digging it into the frozen ground and baring his teeth, his nose wrinkled and huffing, his eyes huge.

"If you'd whip this hellhorse of yours every once in a while, he wouldn't be such a mean bastard!" Harwin cries over the sound of Stranger's displeasure.

"Don't touch my fucking horse."

Stranger follows Viola with his eyes as she retrieves her bucket from the ground and brings it towards him to drink. He doesn't however, instead he leans against her and draws her nearer to him with his neck so that she stands against his shoulder where he strains his long, strong neck around her to glare at Harwin until he stalks off with a huff. Only then does Stranger dare to lower his head and drink from the bucket before him. Viola rubs his nose and offers him a second bucket filled with feed while she fetches his brush and farrier tools left in the saddlebag and sets to grooming him the way Podrick had taught her.

"Beautiful beast." Her father's voice catches her attention as she works.

"Yes. He is." Viola agrees as she pulls a chuck of packed dirt from Stranger's hoof.

"Percheron, is he? Gotta be at least seventeen hands I'd say."

"I don't know much about him."

"You would pester me relentlessly for a horse when you were a girl. Never dreamed you'd someday own such a horse." Viola looks over her shoulder to see Father grinning at her as he strikes a match and lights a pipe, sending a flume of smoke over his head as he puffs on it.

"He belonged to my husband."

"Lem and Tom told me they'd force you to marry that—that beast of a man."

"He was a good man, Father."

"If I had known that it was you they'd given him to, why I would have hunted him down myself."

"I'd let you do no such thing." Viola stands and turns to glare at him, her hands on her hips and a fire in her heart.

"I've heard tale of the thing's he'd done."

"Most of which is false. Sandor never harmed me, never harmed that Stark girl, either. He was good to me, treated me fairly, never raised a hand to me."

"Don't tell me you loved the monster."

"I do. I love him very much. He loved me as well."

"In that case, I'm glad the beast is dead."

"Don't you ever say that to me again." Viola whimpers as she storms away from him in the direction of camp.

"Viola." Father says sternly, but she keeps walking, ignoring his repeated calls for her to return.

On a stump before a blazing fire sits Lem, Tom, and Greenbeard. The other's off gathering wood or tending to their needs and horses. Viola sits quietly next to Greenbeard as Tom strums his wood harp softly. Lem passes her two stockfish and a hunk of cheese, and Tom nudges his flagon of rum towards her with his foot. She felt comfortable with Tom and Greenbeard, though Lem made her feel slightly uneasy, and she did her best not to be alone with him. She doubt he would hurt her at all but decided not to take the risk. The other men, though weary of her, respect her father far too much to attempt anything when it came to her.

Father emerges from the tree line and sits across from her, leaning his back against a fallen log and staring into the fire, still puffing slowly on his pipe with a splinter of wood used as a match, which he had pried for the log as he sat down.

"You were a long time gone, my girl." Father offers quietly, his eyes shining sadly over the crackling fire.

"I looked for you."

"Aye. And I, you." Father clears his throat and accepts a piece of stockfish from Lem. "I apologize for my harsh words. It seems I do not know the woman you have become and remember too fondly the girl I left back at home."

"I am not that little girl, anymore."

"Aye, I see that. Though you have always been a fiery one." Father smirks and kicks a log on the fire, sending a sparkling of embers floating into the sky to mingle with the gently falling snow.

The others begin to emerge from the tree line carrying waterskins, flagons, furs, and provisions. They take their seats around the fire, some much closer that Viola herself would have dared to warm their feet. Thoros becomes transfixed on something it the crackling embers, and his mouth lulls open a bit, his tongue flickering behind his teeth as though whispering something to the flame.

"On the morrow, we shall part." Lem begins, looking around at them all gathered before him. "Greenbeard and Clegane, you will head to Maidenpool. I want you to trade the cured pork for salt and sugar, and some wine for more stockfish. Greenbeard, you know what we tend to need, use your own judgment and make decent trades. Clegane, take note on how he trades, who he trades with. If you chose to stay with us, I may use you for trading when Greenbeard is indisposed. The rest of us will split into two groups. Notch, Harwin, Beardless Dick, Dennet, and Likely Luke, you will come with me to the Quiet Isle. Tom, Chisel, and Jack-Be-Lucky, you will follow Thoros to Saltpans and see what you can find. Thoros' group will meet with us on the isle after two nights, and I want Greenbeard and Clegane to meet us along the road on the opposite side of the river in seven nights. There's plenty of abandoned cottages along the way, we'll leave the horses out front for you to spot. We won't journey far, just out of the marshland to keep the horses from sinking. We will stop at the inn and take the children some food and then take the River Road back to Hollow Hill."

—

The pink gates of Maidenpool loom before them, giving them the worst of the frigid gusts of wind coming from the harbor. Viola follows closely behind Greenbeard and the wagon, getting several stares from street vendors for the sheer size of Stranger. She had refused to leave him beyond the gates as Greenbeard had suggested, fearing he would be stolen or break free. She was even a bit scared of leaving him in the stables outside of the inn they were staying in. After their first day there, Viola had learned to keep the hood of her cloak pulled securely over her head to keep her scared face from view.

Apparently, the vendors had heard of her, and many still associated Sandor with the raid on Saltpans and were fearful of her as well. This hurt the trade they were meant to be doing and had barred her from entering Janquil's Pool by the Silent Sister's stationed outside of the doors.

Ultimately, she was forced to stay in her room at the inn for the duration of the week, allowing Greenbeard to do all of the trading alone, having nothing to pass the time but look out of the upper window while sipping rum, and watch the street below. Greenbeard had managed well enough on his own, but they knew Lem would likely be sour at the complete failure of her part. Though part of her believed he had done this on purpose to get her out of the way, and had likely known what would happen by sending her with Greenbeard. At any rate, she had seven nights in a warm room, and plenty of warm soup and rum in her belly. She had learned on during the first day, after leaving her flagon a bit too close to the hearth, that warming the rum just a bit was enough to warm you to the core for hours on end.

A maid, named Lily, who had come up to bring her a bowl of soup mid-way through her stay there had treated her to an eggmilk, and Viola split some of the rum with her. Lily, had shown her how to mix the rum with the eggmilk to keep it from curdling, and the two of them sat up most of the night laughing and drinking until their stomachs ached from the rich concoction. She had the worst headache of her life the following morning.

"So." Greenbeard breaks the silence as they ride. "You know how to use that sword, or you just keep it on you for decoration?"

"I can't wield it. It's too heavy."

"Aye. It's a battle sword made for a men three times your size. Surprised you can even manage it strapped to your side like that without toppling off of that beast you call a horse."

Viola chuckles along with Greenbeard as the wet marshes and sandpits give way to dense ferns and rolling hills. The snow they had been battling for a week now, but had refused to stick to the wet sand in Maidenpool now covered their horses' feet and was still rising. Viola wraps the furs tighter around her body, wishing she had a way to heat more rum.

"When you get back to the hill, ask Harwin to find you a more suitable sword. He ain't bad, as far as men go. He'll teach ya to wield it. Get ya a proper swordbelt, too. You look a real fool with that thing slung over your shoulder like that."

"I like this sword."

"Aye, you may well like it, but you can't swing the damn thing for shite. Can barely lift it above your head. You want to ride with us, you'll need suitable weapon. You've got nice, long fingers. Could be you'll be good at a bow. I'll find ya a good one for the next time I see ya, and Notch can train you to aim. Don't tell Dennet I say so, but he's better at aiming than he is."

"I'll be sure to tell him you said he's a shite shot when we get back."

"Aye." Greenbeard clutches his stomach and gives her a deep laugh. "I'm sure you will, you little shite."

They continue following the river up, passing the place where they had split from their group seven days before, and it isn't long before they reach a place shallow enough to cross safely. After that, the snow begins to fall harder, freezing them to the bone and causing even the horses to shiver, despite the blankets on their backs. Between the dark and the snow, it was hard to tell where they were, or if they were even still on the road.

"We go another mile." Greenbeard calls, his teeth rattling. "If we see no sign of them, we stop for the night and make fire. Gotta get some food in the horses' bellies to get em warmed up."

They travel for two more miles without speaking. The sound of the horse's hooves in the deep snow, and the roll of the wagon's wheels as they struggle to turn is only slightly louder than their shivering. They hadn't dressed for this weather; there had been a chill in the air when they departed from the hill, but nothing like this. They needed warmth, and fast. As they reach the top of a hill, they spot smoke rising from a chimney below the next hill, less than a mile away.

After what felt like hours pulling the cart up the next hill, then carefully back down again to keep from sliding, they spot Lem's horse beneath a tree and breathe a sigh of relief. As they dismount and she begins to lead Stranger to a small stable on the left side of the house, she recognizes the place she stood. This had ben Finbar and Sally's home. The cottage Gregor had found her in and left her for dead.

She freezes before it, staring up at the blackened thatch roof, burned door, and busted out front window that someone had stuffed with cloth. Greenbeard clasps her on the shoulder and urges her onward, his mules already untethered and huffing in the frigid cold. She swallows hard and pushes forward, the snow coming up to her chins.

She puts Stranger in the first stall, away from Greenbeard's mules, and makes her way around the back of the house where she knew a well to be. With any luck someone had already broken through the ice, so she wouldn't have to struggle to get some water for the horses. Perhaps she could even talk Father into sleeping in the top loft of the hay barn under the guise of the cottage being overcrowded. Had someone removed Finbar and Sally's bodies from inside? She didn't want to have to see them, nor their blood no doubt still on the wall.

Viola fetches the water, thankful that only a thin layer of ice covered the water in the well, someone had apparently broken it free not long ago, but it was like to be frozen again come morning. She makes her way back to the stable to find Greenbeard gone. Fine, she'll water his mules too, the lazy bastard.

Limping towards the stable is a large man, covered in furs, using a stick to walk. He opens the stable door and disappears inside. Harwin, no doubt. He had been the stable boy at Winterfell in his youth and had taken an unusual fascination towards Stranger. A fascination that Stranger himself was doing his best to squash.

"What have I told you about touching my fucking horse, Harwin?" Viola calls as she slings the door open.

The man in the furs jumps as the door flies open but doesn't turn to meet her. She doesn't care as she puts her back to him, filling a second bucket by the door with grain.

"He's going to bite the piss out of you one of these days, and I'm going to laugh. Last man who messed with him lost an ear. You'll be lucky if that's all he takes from you at this point. You've pestered the hell out of him."

Viola lifts her buckets with a groan and turns to make her way to Stranger's stall, only to stop in her tracks. The man in the furs had turned while she was bent over filling the buckets with grain and now stands before her. His dark hair plastered to one side of his face, and his beard grown out and scraggly. Sad, grey eyes look her up and down before settling on her face. He leans heavily on a large walking stick, and takes a small, limping step towards her, his face set in a grimace as she does.

"Sandor." Viola whispers, and the man only nods.

The buckets fall from her hands as she flies towards him, and his hands are on her in an instance, his stick falling to the ground with a soft thump. Her heart pounds in her chest and she can do nothing to stop the tears leaking from her eyes and she cups his face in her hands and stares into his eyes.

"I must be dreaming." Viola whispers as he lowers his head and presses it to hers. "I'll wake up and you'll be dead, again."

"I told you I'd come back for you."

"You're dead." Viola sobs as she clings to him for dear life, terrified that if she lets go, the dream will end and she'll be alone and cold in her saddle, or in some makeshift camp her and Greenbeard had made on the roadside. "I don't want to wake up. I just want this to last a while longer. Just a few more moments, please. I'd forgotten what you smell like. I only remember when I'm sleeping, and then I forget again when I wake."

"You aren't dreaming." He whispers to her, his head still pressed against hers, his beard still tickling her nose with each breath they take.

"You say that every night. And every morning I wake alone." Viola reminds him once more. They have had this very conversation no less than four times in the last fortnight. "You always tell me I'm not dreaming, but I am. On the morrow I'll wake and my bed will be cold, and I'll have to wait all day to see you again."

"Do I ever do this in your dreams?" Sandor asks, cupping her cheeks with his ice cold hands and pressing his lips gently to hers, causing her breathing to stop completely.

"No." She mumbles as he pulls away. "I always wake right before you kiss me."

"As do I." He says as he pulls her away from him and grips her shoulders, shaking her slightly as he does. "You aren't dreaming."

"Elder Brother told me you'd died in his arms. He told me he buried you. I searched four days for your grave."

"And did you find it?"

"No. But—"

"He told you to stay. More than once, he told you to stay."

"How—"

"The Hound died. That's what he told you. He told you that The Hound was dead."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I was there. I was on the isle. He found me, tended to my wounds, and kept me on as a gravedigger until I was well enough to leave."

"You—The gravedigger. I was right behind you, I could have reached out and touched you, had I known. Did you know that I was there?"

"Not the first day. It wasn't until the second morning when Elder Brother told me. Said that he had asked you to stay, and you said no. Told me that it was better this way, said you could seek out your father, and I knew that's what you'd wanted all along. Then that big bitch was there; that lady knight. She was looking for me, he didn't want her to know I was there. Watched you ride off on Stranger."

Anger bubbles within her, and she steps away from him, out of his reach. He had known that she believed him dead, had known that she was there searching for him. He's let her go on three months believing him dead and buried beneath stone in some forgotten cairn.

"How could you?" She snaps at him.

"I can barely fucking walk, Viola. Damn near lost my leg from infection. I couldn't have come to you if I tried. If I'd left with you, I couldn't have protected you. Hurt like hell watching you ride off, knowing I couldn't follow."

"You could have let me know that you were there. He could have told me and I would have stayed!"

"He told you as plainly as he could with that lady knight of yours hovering over your shoulder."

"There were plenty of times she wasn't around that he could have told me."

"Aye. There were. I can't excuse what he did or didn't do." Sandor runs his hands through his hair, then reaches out to cup her cheek once more, his thumb dipping down to trail across the scar on her neck. "I know what my brother done to you."

"Don't." Viola whispers, closing her eyes to block the tears from escaping. "Please, don't."

"I never wanted to kill that bastard more than I did then." Sandor wraps her in his arms again, and she relaxes against his chest, breathing in his scent of horse, wood fire, wet furs, and sweat. "I wanted to come back for you every damn day, Viola."

"Where's Arya?" Viola sobs against his chest, wiping her tears on his furs.

"Little wolf bitch robbed me and left me for dead. Don't know where she run off to." Sandor smooths the hair on the back of her head and chuckles. "Met your blessed father. Man wants me back dead."

"Aye." Viola chuckles herself. "Told you before, it doesn't matter what he says about you and I. You're my husband."

"Get inside and get warm." Sandor says as he swipes his hands down his face and pulls away before bending to fetch the buckets she had been carrying. "There's hot soup in there, and more furs."

"I can't—I don't want to have to see them. Finbar and Sally. It's my fault they're dead."

"I buried em before you got here." Sandor drops the buckets down for Stranger and rubs his nose affectionately before limping back towards her and fetching his walking stick from the ground with a groan. "My damn horse, woman."

The cottage quiets instantly as Viola steps inside, and all eyes turn towards Sandor as he lowers his head in order to enter the small door. Inside is exactly how she had left it the day she had fled. Either the fire had extinguished itself in that day's mist, or neighbors had rushed to put out the flames, either way, the only damage is the window which she herself had kicked out, and scorch marks beneath the blackened door. Someone had pulled the table she climbed on to reach the window away from the wall, but it still held her blood stains where Sandor had laid her that day. He takes his seat on that side of the table, using his arms to fold over the large, dark blood stain. Viola takes her seat opposite him as someone places a steaming bowl of soup and a hunk of bread before her. She doesn't make a move to touch it as her and Sandor lock eyes with one another from across the table. Her hand resting on the table next to the bowl begins to tremble, and Sandor reaches out and covers it with his.

"Eat, girl." Father snarls at her from the opposite end of the table and Viola prier her eyes from her husband's to find Father's eyes narrowed at Sandor. "You're frozen solid and damn near starved."

"Ice." Thoros voice sends a chill down her spine, and all head turn towards him gazing into the fire. "I see a wall of ice. A huge wall of ice. The Wall. Just as I did as we made camp the night before we split up."

"What else?" Lem asks from where he leans against the hearth.

"It's where the wall meets the sea. There's a castle there." The fire crackles, sending embers shooting out at Thoros, everyone flinches backwards, Sandor's hand tightens on hers. "There's a mountain. Looks like an arrowhead. Dead are marching past." Jack-Be-Lucky, Tom, and Dennet stand and move towards the flames to look for themselves. "Thousands of them. Do you believe me now, men?"

Thoros turns from the fire finally, his brow sweating and his face etched in fear. He scans he room, taking care to look into each and every one of their eyes.

"The flames have been showing me The Wall for months. Tonight is the first night I have seen more than this. The Lord of Light is trying to tell me something."

"Just my luck I end up with a band of bloody fire worshipers." Sandor mutters under her breath and rolls his eyes.

"You mock, Clegane! You mock now, but when it was you I saw in the flames, you barreling out of those woods towards us in the dark of night clutching an ax, I had my men stand down when you came crashing through that thicket!"

"It was bloody morning when I found you, and I walked up the road holding a stick, not a fucking ax."

"We are here for a reason!" Thoros shouts. "The Lord of Light sent us this blizzard as a warning. Winter is coming, as the Stark's say. We must ride north. North to the wall, north to defend the kingdom from the dead!"

"How in seven hells do we kill what's already dead?" Tom asks with a smirk.

"You don't." Sandor says.

"I heard tale of the dead walking." Greenbeard says. "I was in Barrowtown a year back, and some squire said he'd heard from a lad in Mole's Town that two Black Brother's had been attacked by a corpse with blue eyes. Said they killed it with fire."

"Fucking hell." Sandor groans and releases Viola's hand before gesturing to her to eat her soup.

"If this is real, Thoro's—"

"I am telling you; this is real."

"Fine. On the morrow, I want Greenbeard to take the wagon and food to the inn. Thoros and whatever men don't wish to travel north will return to Hollow Hill. I will take whichever men who decide north with me. I will not demand any of you to come along, you are free to decide amongst yourselves."

"I'll come." Cries Tom, Jack-Be-Lucky, Dennet, and Harwin in unison.

"Bloody hell." Sandor says with a sigh. "I'll fucking come, too."

"Then so am I." Viola says, sitting her bowl back down on the table and wiping her face on her sleeve.

"No, you are not." Father and Sandor say at once.

"I go where you go." Viola reminds him.

"Then I go as well." Father calls.

In the end, Thoros, Likely Luke, and Greenbeard are the only ones to agree to stay behind. Greenbeard, however, will be joining them after dropping the wagon off food off at the inn and stopping by Fairmarket on business. Thoros and Likely Luke are to relay to Lady Stoneheart their findings in the Quiet Isle, which Viola herself had not yet been told, and begin spreading the word for others to start making their way north.