Winterfell and the winter town seemed to be constantly bustling with activity. Since few people had any coin after the wars, most business was conducted by barter or, at the castle, for shelter and protection. There were carpenters in Winterfell repairing the chambers and making new furnishings to replace those lost and burned. More chairs and benches were added to the great hall and the solar; and new shelves were built next to the hearth near Sansa's desk and in the maester's study. Big, sturdy cupboards stood in alcoves where once great, dark, carved armoires held linens and furs for the chambers of the Stark family. Though the new furnishings were more rustic and still sparse compared to those she remembered as a child, Sansa still felt pride that Winterfell was rising from the ashes of near-ruin and taking on the semblance of a real castle again.

She and Sandor now had a sturdy table and chairs for their chambers as well as a pair of wooden chests crudely carved with the Clegane dog sigil to hold their clothing and belongings. Catya sometimes liked to climb in and hide and had begged for one of her very own. Sandor raspingly replied that if she were good, she might have a surprise for her name day. The little chest with a puppy carved on it was hidden in an empty room.

Sansa had also been surprised and grateful that Arya had sent gifts ahead of her visit: mostly lengths of cloth from the capitol but other necessities such as tin pitchers and cups, candles and candleticks and oil lamps, and a leather-covered box of embroidery threads, needles, scissors and thimble. Sansa set immediately to sewing new clothes for her growing children and even to stitching Sandor a cushion for his great armchair, for there had been a length of gold velvet among the bolts, and she finished it complete with his embroidered House sigil of three black dogs. His mouth twitched when he saw it, a ghost of a smile, and he nodded his acknowledgement and thanked her curtly but he always righted it in his seat before he lowered himself into his chair. Deeds, not words, Sansa reminded herself.

Still, their prized new possession was their bathtub, built by a young cooper who had settled in the winter town. He had fashioned it large and deep so that Sandor could sit, even though his knees poked out of the water and his elbows hung over the sides. Sansa was so pleased that she commissioned several more for Winterfell so that servants and soldiers could also bathe without using just buckets and rags. Many soldiers still preferred the hot springs in the godswood though, heedless of the stink of sulphur that followed in their wake after they emerged.

Fortunately the children had a smaller tin tub and Sansa often helped the nurse when the children were bathed, laughing at their yelps of protest and delighting in their fresh-scrubbed faces and sweet smelling skin as they were thoroughly dried with linen towels and bundled into woolen sleeping gowns and nestled under furs for sleep. My sweet, sweet babes, she mused as she walked to her own chamber, soon I will have more…

Suddenly, a pair of strong arms grasped from behind and held her tightly. She gasped in surprise.

"What did I tell you about walking away from me, little bird," Sandor rasped close to her ear as he pushed his face into her loose hair and neck.

"Mm, I've forgotten" she murmured as she pressed he body back into his.

"Then you need reminding; come lift your skirts for me, girl, and I'll plow you so that you'll not be forgetting again."

Sansa giggled and broke free of his embrace and ran lightly towards their chamber where Sandor caught her easily. He slammed the door and lowered the bar and they did not join the others for supper in the great hall. Sansa later found a plate of bread and a covered bowl of stew left on a tray outside their chamber, and so they sat together at their table and ate wrapped in their robes and furs from the bed.

In the middle of the night, there was a knock at their door.

Sandor grumbled. "What is it?"

"It's time, m'lord," the voice of the old mountain man came through the wooden door.

Sandor sat up immediately. "We'll be right behind you," he called to him.

Sansa sat up sleepily. "Sandor? Where-"

"Get dressed warm, little bird. We're going to the stables," he told her as he pulled his breeches on and stepped into his boots.

"But why?" She pulled the furs up around her instead.

"You'll see. Get up, I'll help you dress. Hurry now."

Once they arrived at the stables, Sansa saw Osha and her husband in front of a large stall. Osha held aloft an oil lamp and nodded to her.

"Jes'in time, m'lady. It be startin'."

Sansa looked into the stall to see a heavily pregnant mare turning in circles, with water pouring from her hindquarters. She turned to Sandor questioningly.

"Aye, little bird: she having Stranger's foal, his first. We've been breeding him with the best mares since the first signs of Spring."

I know, Sansa almost replied but she feigned delighted surprise instead, realizing that had been his intention all along.

Sandor kept his usual grim expression but Sansa saw that he was watching avidly, nervous and excited about the fruition of his pet project. She took his hand and smiled encouragingly.

After a time, they could see a clear white sac begin to emerge from under the mare's tail. Sansa peered hard, unsure of what she was seeing.

"Those be hooves ye'see, m'lady," the mountain man told her knowledgeably. "They comes out feet first, then the head. She'll go down soon, you'll see."

But the mare did not go down, and Sansa began to worry.

"It'll happen when it happens, m'lady," he drawled easily, "though I s'pect ye knows as much yerself; beggin' yer pardon if that be too forward, m'lady."

Sansa's mouth tucked into a small smile. "Yes, I do know as much," she replied. She felt Sandor squeeze her hand now, and was comforted.

In time, the mare did lie down in the fresh straw and the sac emerging seemed to show dark hooves and long dark legs until finally a head emerged.

"Oh, Sandor," Sansa gasped excitedly. "There it is!"

Spring is truly here and new life is beginning, she thought hopefully.

"We'll be helpin' er frum heres on," the man said as he hobbled into the stall. He kneeled on one knee and leaned to grasp the front hooves and pulled the foal from its mother and tore open the birthing sac, exposing the small but long dark face of the newborn animal.

"A filly, m'lord," the man called over his shoulder to Sandor a moment later.

Sandor nodded but Sansa exclaimed happily: "A girl: just like we had first, Sandor!"

He turned to look as her oddly, then his mouth twitched into a smile to see her excitement. "I see I was right you'd want to see this, little bird."

"Oh yes, Sandor," she smiled up at him, "thank you for this…this gift. It was wonderful to see. Oh, look! She's beautiful."

The foal was standing now and taking its first wobbly steps. Though the mare was a chestnut; the filly was as dark as Stranger. She has her father's hair,Sansa could not help thinking, remembering now her pleased reaction to baby Catya's dark hair.

Sandor was thinking of Catya as well. "Might be our filly will want to see her too. Do you think she'll like her name-day gift, little bird?"

Sansa turned to Sandor and felt her eyes fill with tears of love and happiness.

"The pony is for Catya? Oh Sandor, she will be so happy." Sansa suspected the wooden chest with the carved puppy would be all but forgotten; still she threw her arms around him impulsively. "You are so good to the children, Sandor. They love you so much; and I know you love them."

"Aye," he rasped, almost defensive, "of course I do: they're our pups, yours and mine."

Sansa smiled and put her hand on his arm tenderly. She knew he was gruff when he felt emotions because he had once been so unfamiliar with them. Words are wind; his actions speak of his love.

"Yes," she agreed simply, "and you are their father…and you are a wonderful father, Sandor."

He stared at her momentarily and took her hand again. "Let's get some sleep, little bird," he rasped.

….

After Sandor had trained with the garrison in the morning, Sansa brought Catya into the yard and across to the stables. Her daughter smiled excitedly to see her father and ran to him.

"Papa Dog! Wide wit' Papa Dog?"

Sandor crouched down before her and answered her solemnly. "Not today, my Catya. Today…don't pout, girl; today I have something to show you. Come with me now."

He took her small hand in his and walked her slowly to the stall with the mare and her new foal. There he kneeled by her side and pointed to the pony behind its mother's legs.

"There, do you see it?"

Catya gasped in excitement.

"Horsy! Baby horsy! Look, Papa!"

"Aye, she's a baby horse, girl: a filly…and she's yours," Sandor rasped tenderly.

Catya turned great big saucer eyes to her father and her little mouth fell open in incredulous surprise.

"Horsy for me? Mama, Papa: horsy for me!" She threw her little arms around her father's neck and laughed happily. "Love you, Papa Dog!"

Sansa could see Sandor shut his eyes tightly as he held his daughter to him. Words may be wind but words of love from his very own daughter were more precious than any gold. Sansa knew that his love was fiercer than any rage Sandor had ever felt, and she was overwhelmed with happiness to think she had given him such a gift.

He pulled back now and looked at her. "When you are both bigger, I will teach you to ride her. Would you like that, girl? Good. Thank your mother too now."

"T'ank you, Mama."

"Happy name day, my sweetling," Sansa replied. "What will you name your pony?"

Catya looked to the foal and back to Sansa. "Lay-dee."

Sandor cleared his throat now. "Well now, Lady-"

"Lady is a fine name for a pony," Sansa interrupted gently. "She will be a beautiful dark mare someday, and you will be a beautiful and skillful rider because your Papa will teach you."

"Mama wolf name Lady," Catya piped.

Sansa smiled tremulously. "Yes. Did your Uncle Rickon tell you that?"

Catya nodded.

"Would the lit'l lady like to feed her pony then?" Osha's mountain man asked as he joined them in the stables. He had a pail of oats in one hand as he hobbled along on his crutch.

Sandor stood now as Catya turned back to the stall to watch her pony eat.

"I'll talk to her, little bird," he began, "We'll choose another name-"

Sansa shook her head. "No, please, Sandor: let her have the- the name for her pony. She means well by it; and I would not want to have to tell her the terrible truth at such a young age. It could give her nightmares. And she is so happy now, Sandor. I would not take away her happiness and make her fearful."

Sandor brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "You're generous and gentle-hearted, little bird. The pups are lucky to have you for their mother."

Sansa looked down briefly. "Thank you, Sandor," she whispered. "I know now some part of me will always be fearful: for our family, for you, for the North…but I will not let that fear ruin what happiness we have, especially for our children."

He put his hand under her chin and raised her face to look at her.

"Our time will come, little bird: there'll be more pups," he told her haltingly, and Sansa knew he still had his fears as well. Eventually the master would deem her strong enough to stop taking the moon tea and she could once again be with child; and Sandor would have to worry that she have another difficult birth or that he could lose her.

She nodded obediently and made herself smile. Our time, she thought, in three moon and five days.

"Come girl," he called to Catya. "Your pony will be here again tomorrow; soon they will have finished the fences and you can watch her run in the pasture."

Catya ran on little legs to catch up with them.

"Ned an' Wobb have horsy?"

"Not yet, girl; the next one's your mother's," Sandor told her.

Sansa looked surprised, "Me? But Sandor, my gelding-"

"-will not live forever, little bird. The trip North and winter and all the battles were rough on our mounts. Even Stranger's not what he was," he rasped harshly and Sansa knew he was covering his hurt to know that his prize warhorse would not always be his; but these were the losses they needs learn to accept. "I'll keep putting him to stud though, to breed more horses. He's good stock…and he don't mind," he laughed now, his harsh laugh that reminded Sansa of steel on stone.

Sansa took his arm and leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. Catya ran past them and into the castle, telling everyone she saw that her Papa had given her a horse.

Three moons and five days, she thought again as she felt Sandor's strength and warmth so close to her. She turned to gaze lovingly up at him but he was watching Catya and smiling his twisted, half-smile. She put her head back against him and ran her hand down his arm. Three moon, five days…and tonight.

FINIS