Author's Note: Thank you for coming back, sorry this chapter ended up taking longer to write than I originally planned.

Warning: There's a lot of information that I needed to get in this chapter and some of it might not make as much sense as other bits, bear with me Nana has the Westorosi equivienlt of alzheimer's

Disclaimer: The only characters in this story that curently belong to me are Nana and the orphans. Everyone else is still the intellectual property of GRRM

A Sword with Wings

He did not dream so much as his mind kept drifting toward memories so far off that seemed more like dreams than a forgotten reality. After growing into such a large man, it was hard for Sandor to remember being so small, but there he was, a little boy still small enough to sit in his mother's lap.

And he knew his mother, not by her face, he didn't turn to see her face, he knew her by the way she hummed and combed his hair with her fingers as they sat by the warm hearth. He was too small to see his grandfather's face too, but he knew the old man by the stump leg he could see, and the cane by his chair.

Stubborn man his grandfather was, Sandor remembered that grandfather refused to have a wooden leg made for him, insisting that anywhere that he couldn't get with just his cane was not anywhere worth going.

How funny he must have looked at his son's knighting, hobbling around on one leg and a cane. Mother always said he was funny at the wedding, but Sandor remembered his grandfather as a good humored man, so he never knew if mother meant that he looked funny or just that he made jests.

He must have been two, three maybe. He didn't know if his little sister was sleeping in another room or not yet born, but father and Gregor were no where to be seen. Probably out in the yard training, perhaps out hunting. It didn't matter, all that mattered was the warm fire, his mother's gentle humming, and grandather's stories.

Sandor wiggled on his mother's lap and finally crawled away from her to tug at grandfather's tunic, wanting to be let up. His mother picked him up and handed him to his grandfather. "Tell me about the dogs again." He asked.

Sandor must have heard the story a thousand times already, but this was the first time he could remember actually asking for it. He never got tired of it. Their house sigil, the three dogs on the golden field perhaps wasn't as threatening as their lord Lannister's lion, or the Direwolves up north, the kraken at the sea, nor were they majestic like the Baratheon stag, but Sandor always felt pride when he saw their banner.

Did Kraken's really exist? Even at the age Sandor was skeptical. Baratheons did not ride stags into battle, only horses like everyone else. Direwolves were not even found south of the wall anymore, and there were some that did not even know the Stark sigil was anything more than a normal wolf. How many Lannisters slept with a lion cub at the foot of their bed? According to Grandfather's story a lion would rather tear a Lannister to pieces than obey their command.

But father always took a few good hounds with him on any trip, sometimes for hunting, but mostly because they were good dogs and he wanted them with him. One of the bitches in the kennel was expecting pups any day now, and father had promised he and Gregor could each have one to raise. Sandor was ridiculously excited about it and ran to the kennels every chance he got to see if the pups were here yet.

Grandfather chuckled at his enthusiasm, "It began when Lord Tytos went out for a ride, oh, I don't even remember why, so long ago, but he wound up between a lioness and her prey."

"And the lions don't care that they're the sigil of house Lannister," His mother added.

"Right," Grandfather continued, "I had the dogs with me when I saw them, poor old Tytos, I almost thought we wouldn't make it." He paused rubbed the stump of his leg, "Course, she didn't care much when I came between her and Lord Tytos either. She tore up m'leg with tooth and claw, I'd thought I'd be eaten for sure."

"But then the dogs got her!" Sandor said excitedly.

"That's right m'boy. I had, I think ten dogs with me that day. That sounds right. Ten dogs, all of the bark'n and bite'n. The Lioness gutted Rudy right there in front of me, seven blessing on that hound, dead before he hit the ground. The dogs chased her off and I never saw what happened after that."

"But the dogs came back, all of them bloody and bashed up, but they came back for me and Lord Tytos. Good ol' Black-Eye came and laid beside me while he was die'n. I patted his head and told him what a good boy he was, a very good boy. I still remember how he looked. If any dog ever died smiling, it was Black-Eye."

"Lord Tytos took one horse and sent for help, Black-Eye was dead before he got back, an' Yeller die'n too. He was a fighter, lasted almost the day, died soon as I left to get m'leg chopped."

"And then Lord Tytos gave you the keep?"

"No, not right away." Grandfather reminded him, "They took m'leg an' Tytos wanted to be sure I was alright before he came ta me an' said 'a Lannister always pays his debts'. The Towerhouse was grand, the lands were a blessing, but I almost didn't accept, not until he took your daddy as squire and promised a knighting some day, I could not refuse."

"Tytos insisted on a sigil. He wanted us to have a black lion, very excited about that idea he was, but I couldn't forget the dogs. My poor dogs, they were burred under the same tree your daddy used to climb, an' I told Lord Tytos I wanted them to be our sigil. Soon as he 'eard that he forgot about the black lion an' went around praising the three dogs that saved 'is life to ev'ry one who'd listen. Which was nobody, really, but he told 'em all the same."

Sandor laughed and his mother took him back, just as she did father and Gregor returned in doors. Father had a bloodied nose, mother still held him as she went over to her husband to check on him. Father insisted it was merely an accident. Sandor saw the look on his brother's face and knew it wasn't…

That was the most concrete dream Sandor had before waking.

The sun was peering in from a window the first time Sandor managed to get his eyes open. Sansa was there, wiping his face with a wet cloth. He tried to call her name, to let her know he was awake, but his tongue felt heavy as stone and words died as they left his mouth, making a horrendous groan.

A stranger's voice came across the room, "The maester's wife they said?" A laugh, "Well, he was a maester before he gave up his chain. I've been married countless times, dear one, but I was old and infertile when I finally was allowed to marry for love."

Sansa became unsettled upon hearing that. Sandor didn't know how he knew, he could some how sense that she was upset. He wanted to say something, but couldn't do much more than brush his fingers against her thigh.

Blackness.

He opened his eyes briefly again and saw Sansa, the room was dark and he thought for a moment she was glowing but it was probably just light from the fire. Her eyes were wide with confusion. "Skin changing?" She asked.

"It's a rare gift," The stranger from before told her, "But you also posses an even rarer one that binds you to your siblings, and is strongest when you are together."

Dark again.

He saw the old woman laying across from him next. She was very old, with a familiarity about her that sent a shiver down his spine. She smiled at him, and that was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes again.

He must be recovering. Before then he was always in a blissful oblivion with no pain and no desires. Now he was aware of how dizzy he was, how much his leg hurt. "His wounds are healing nicely, if he works at it he might still be able to use that leg. It's that fever I'm worried about, now."

He rested dreamlessly and heard Sansa gasping "That means they're alive! Bran and Rickon are alive!" He had heard what had happened at Winterfell and consciously knew that the youngest Stark boys were widely thought to be dead. How could they still be alive, and more importantly how could Sansa know they were with such absolute certainty?

After that he began to struggle in the blackness. Sandor fought to regain consciousness. It seemed a fruitless struggle, he'd be awake for a few seconds at most, enough to catch a snippet of conversation, or see someone walking around, and sometimes taste hot soup that somebody was force feeding him. But everything was black again, and the only assurance that his fighting was making any difference was that the periods of darkness seemed to be getting shorter.

Finally, he was drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, aware of words no louder than whispers when he felt lips against his own. Sansa's lips. He felt a surge of conflicting emotions, wanting to use all his strength to reach Sansa and kiss her back with all the passion a man could kiss a woman with.

But deep down he also felt shame.

Sansa's mouth left his and what seemed only a moment later Sandor opened his eyes again, and this time they stayed open. The sun was below the tree line, coming up or going down, Sandor had no idea. His eyes were on Sansa, sitting across the room from him. He blinked a few times, there was a dark haired toddler asleep in her lap. Seven Hells how long had he bee unconscious, what had he missed?

Sandor tried to sit up, the act of doing so sent a wave a nausea through him that dam near sent him back to oblivion. His movement drew more than one set of eyes to him. Sansa stood so suddenly she might have dropped the child if she weren't so careful. To his right, Arya gasped and sat up straighter in her chair. Wait, no that wasn't Arya… Sandor had to look back at the girl holding the child just to be sure that he was correct about thinking it was Sansa.

It was her, the child in her arms squirmed and woke, but did not cry. "W…where are we?" Sandor asked weakly. "Who are they?" He squinted at the boy Sansa was holding, he seemed familiar but Sandor couldn't immediately place why.

"Hush, it's alright." Sansa assured him, "They're our friends. Alyss, can you go find Arya and tell her Sandor's awake? Steph, get Nana."

The Arya look-alike nodded and left the room, followed by a boy Sandor hadn't seen. For the first time Sandor took a look at his surroundings. The room had seen better days, what Sandor had thought was a window was actually just a hole in the wall that had a cloth to cover it at night. Chairs were made out of broken crates and barrels, the door hung oddly and probably didn't shut fully.

"Where are we…?" Sandor asked again.

"This is an old mill a few miles outside of Fairmarket." Sansa explained, "Nana and the orphans have been hiding here since their village was burned down. It's safe, they're very careful."

Credit it to all the years he spent in King's Landing among liars and back stabbers who each had their own army of spies, but Sandor was immediately distrustful of their 'friends.' The child Sansa was holding was perhaps the only one they could trust as he was too young to probably even understand that different social classes existed.

Sansa noticed his gaze on the child and offered a sad smile, "This one's mother drowned only a week before they found us. Nana says she had red hair like mine so he thinks I'm his mama."

Sandor didn't know what to say, Sansa looked absolutely enamored with the boy. "Does he have a name?"

"Ah, well, his mamma wanted his father to help name him so she didn't give him one." Sansa replied, "But he's got to have a name right? So I've been calling him Aren. That's a hansom name, isn't it?"

"…Very hansom." Sandor replied, though he couldn't really muster the enthusiasm that Sansa had for him. He couldn't take his eyes off the boy, and the longer he looked the more he saw, until it became obvious why the boy looked familiar. "Little Bird-" He started but the door opened and Steph returned with another boy.

They stood between an almost unrealistically old woman draped in faded red robes, the one he'd seen during periods of unconsciousness. Even fully awake now, Sandor found himself unnerved in her presence. The boys guided her over to a set of cushioned crates and helped her lay on her side because she seemed to be having trouble sitting up.

"Bless you, boys." She said, and looked over at Sandor which sent another chill up his spine, "Could you leave us for a moment please? I should speak with him alone."

"Are you sure Nana?" The elder boy asked, he couldn't be more than ten years in age.

"I'll be fine Steph, you and Lynn check the traps." Nana replied and coughed a bit. "You too Sansa. I think in his condition your friend here better hear this from me on his own without your influence."

Sansa looked ready to argue, but Nana turned her eyes away from Sandor to her, and Sansa read something in them that made her nod and leave, taking the child with her and leading the boys down the stairs. The old woman turned her gaze back to Sandor but didn't say anything, even after their footsteps faded away, she seemed to be studying him.

He didn't like it at all, and broke the silence, "That boy, the little one." He started.

"Your brother's bastard." She confirmed, "You're much smarter than people like to say you are. People always like to think the big ones are soft in the head."

"Letting people think you're stupid has it's advantages." Sandor said.

"I know it," Nana smiled, a very creepy toothy smile that made him feel like a child for how nervous she was making him, "I survived my third marriage by pretending to be just an idiot girl."

"What's your name?" Sandor asked, "If you've got things you need to tell me, you should start there."

She laughed, "Ohh, dear boy, I am as old as I look and I've been called Nana for so long I couldn't remember my birth name if I tried."

Sandor wasn't entirely sure he believed that. Nana kept staring at him, and the he couldn't keep her gaze, Sandor hated that he had to look away, especially when she started quietly laughing. He turned back with a glower, "What?" He snarled.

"The burn makes it difficult to see from the front." Nana chuckled, "But you know, when you turn to the side I swear you look just like him."

Sandor's eyebrow raised, "Look like who?" He demanded.

"The first Clegane." Nana answered, her eyes were soft as if looking back at a fond memory, "Your grandfather. You look just like him, far more than your brother does at any rate."

My grandfather? How old is this sack of bones? Sandor hid his surprise as best he could and looked away again, not turning back when the crazy old bat started giggling again.

"But we are very off topic. So much you need to know," She coughed, louder and longer this time, "Age is catching up with me, my time is short and so much you and the girls need to know about what is happening to you. So much I must teach you…"

He was getting angry, "So start talking before the Stranger comes to get you." Sandor growled.

"Stranger?" Nana sounded confused, "Oh, yes, Stranger, your horse, this concerns him too I suppose."

"No, not my horse, the Stranger-oh never mind, what about my horse?"

"She's bonded with him too." Nana told him, "Probably because of your bond with him. Perhaps you were a skin changer yourself in another life. or will be in your next."

"Skin-changing? Who's bonded to- What in seven hells are you talking about?"

Nana squinted, as if trying to remember something, "Did I not explain skin changing?" She asked.

Sandor was almost ready to stand up and throw her from the hole in the wall, if he didn't make himself sick sitting up he might have. "If you did I wasn't part of the conversation." He said clenching his teeth.

The fluttering of wings drew his attention to the window, a very large owl flew in, "To me, Kuval." Nana whispered and the feathered beast came to rest o a crate beside her head. "Skin changing is a rare gift, one in one thousand are born with the ability to enter the mind of animals. I was fortunate that a wise man lived in a nearby village who could explain to me why I dreamed so vividly of 's how it begins, in dreams… The first owl I entered was the one that lived in the barn, 'stone eyes' we called him."

As fascinating as that sounded Sandor didn't see what that had to do with him, and his head pounded with the beginnings of a head ache until Nana coughed again ad took a moment to catch her breath before she continued, "Sansa and Arya are both Skinchangers, their brother Bran too, probably Rickon as well. All the Stark children bonded to their direwolves, I think, there's something very special about their family."

Sandor raised a brow, "But Sansa and Arya both lost their wolves."

"Early, yes, they've told me. And Nymeria is not lost, Arya has been reunited with her, their bond is strong as ever." Nana replied, "But Skinchaning- or in the case of wolves and dogs, warging-, is a power that doesn't end with the loss of a partner. I have entered the minds of many owls and other beasts of the air. New bonds can be formed, though I don't believe Sansa will ever fully recover from losing Lady."

"You think she's bonded with my horse?" Sandor asked.

"I know she has, already she's entered his mind. I've been teaching the girls to control their power, Sansa goes running with him almost every morning now." Nana sighed and almost seemed to fall asleep. It was a moment before she spoke up again "Both of them had their power lay dormant for a time. The murder of their mother and brother have triggered it into accelerating again. They need much teaching to learn to control it."

She paused again, "But that is not all about Sansa. She has another power too."

"What sort of power?" Sandor tried to sit up again, slower this time, more successfully, but nausea swept over him and he dared not move any further.

"She is connected to her siblings, and can talk to them across some distances, it grows as she gets closer to them, I don't know if she could use it now if Arya were not with her." Nana said "Their youngest brother Rickon is safe, and the bastard Jon, he's returned from beyond the Wall. Her power can't reach over it to where Brandon has gone."

"I believe he is to become a greenseer, another sort of power I do not know enough about to begin explaining as any more than future sight. But through her own abilities, Sansa has leaked some of that power into her own. Pay attention to her dreams, she may be able to prepare you for things that will come."

Nana paused again for a moment, with that same puzzled look from before, "I have explained to you what skinchanging is, yes?"

Sandor nodded and took a few seconds to let this all in. He stopped believing in magic years ago. If he hadn't seen the skulls in the dungeons himself he probably wouldn't believe that Aegon the Conqueror had arrived to Westeros with his sisters on the backs of dragons. As far as he'd ever know magic was gone from this world. Even Beric Dondarrion's flaming sword he could convince himself as some kind of cheap trip. Perhaps the sword had been dipped in oil, and lit while he was turned away…

Sandor shook his head, and his headache flared, that was different from Sansa. This connection Nana claimed she had to her siblings made sense enough, he supposed. Sansa had dreamed of her family's death, only a nightmare he'd assumed, but perhaps she was tapping into this other power her brother supposedly had?

Also Sansa's skin changing power, if it was true, meant that she was bonded to Stranger, but Nana had mentioned before that this involved him somehow. Given that the old woman had already accidentally left out information, Sandor was certain that she'd forgotten to mention something else. And he had a very bad feeling he already knew what it was.

"Since we left King's Landing, I've been having dreams…" He said, "About Sansa. Of…kissing her, and having her…"

"Yes, and she has had the same dreams, she told me of them." Nana replied. "You've been sharing dreams because she's bonded to you as well. But unlike animals, you too were dreaming as she was, so what the both of you saw was a fusion of both your minds and your desires. So, no, your dreams are not just the typical lust of a man for a pretty young woman."

The fact that Sandor didn't understand must have been plain on his face, Nana licked her lips and tried to explain again, "She must have bonded to either you or your horse not long after her the death of her wolf. You may have been a skinchanger in-"

"-In another life or maybe I will be in my next, you already said that." Sandor growled irritably, "So, what does this it mean that we're bonded then?"

"It means that you are influencing each other, for better and for worse. Your shared dreams are a product of that bond. Either you or Sansa began to have deeper feelings for one another, and through your connection those feelings are influencing the other." Nana watched him, accessing whether or not he understood before she finished, seeming to read his mind. "There is no way to know which of you dreamed it first."

That made Sandor's head spin and his stomach turn. If he wanted Sansa first than that meant that she only desired him back because this bond was making her believe this was her own choice when it wasn't. The same was true if Sansa was the first to desire him. Either way, one of them was being influenced by magic, and they would never know if their desires were truly mutual or just the result of the bond.

Sandor wasn't sure if he really believed any of this. It sounded like nonsense, but at the same time everything about it fit perfectly together, like pieces of puzzle blocks. The uncertainty sickened him.

It didn't take Sandor long to decide he hated magic almost as much as he hated knights.

"I've never known a skinchanger to bond with another person before." Nana told him, "I've already discussed this with Sansa, she says she accidentally entered your mind a few weeks ago and became violently sick afterwords."

"I don't remember anything like that happening." Sandor said, in fact, now that he was actually thinking about it, he realized he didn't remember much from after they had escaped the wedding.

"Your fever would probably be to blame for that." Nana said, "You'd best lay back down, you need your rest. We can't stay here for long, someone is bound to find us."

"We should leave," Sandor muttered, he had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but he certainly wasn't tired now and didn't want to rest "I might not be able to walk, but I can still ride."

"Don't be absurd, you still have a fever." Nana started coughing again, this time loud enough that it got the attention of one of the children. Was it only children here, where were their parents? Nana waved the girl off and continued speaking, "Rest, boy, rest…You'll need all your strength if we're going to make it to the Quiet Isle."

Sandor had heard of the Quiet Isle, it was, as far as he'd heard, still untouched by the War of Five Kings. It was also in the general direction of the Eyrie, where Sansa and Arya's aunt lived, a little ways south of it. He didn't remember making the girls swear they'd go to the Eyrie when he died, but Sandor knew that would be the safest place for them to go.

Nana had fallen asleep herself so Sandor could not ask her, so he finally relented and laid back, closing his eyes. He was not tired, but sleep took him again anyway. A day or two might have passed, he woke easily and frequently, if someone wasn't waking him to make him eat watery stew, someone was putting a wet cloth on his head,more often than not, this 'someone' was Sansa.

Most of the time, he was awoken simply because the children spoke too loudly. In particular he recognized Arya's voice once and opened his eyes a slit to see her talking to the girl he'd mistaken for her when he'd first woke. "But I heard women aren't allowed on the Quiet Isle?" Arya asked.

The mention of the Quiet Isle kept Sandor's attention, perhaps now was the time to learn about what Nana was planning. "Oh, they're not allowed to live there, but they can visit." the look alike said, "Nana's old, she told us she'd like to spend the last of her life there if they'll allow it, and she hopes the brothers of the Seven will take the others and let them stay until the war is over."

"But not you, Alyss?" Arya asked

"No, I'm lucky, I still have family I can live with." Alyss replied, "My cousin, Cristabel, is going to go work as a maid for the Mootons, her parents will need someone to come help on the farm when she leaves"

They continued to talk, but said no more of the Quiet Isle. Nana woke later and asked for help getting to her feet, the children flocked to her like they though she was the Crone herself, and guided her out of the room. Sandor opened his eyes again saw that he was alone now, and shut them again.

He didn't want to be alone, not with the thoughts that were occupying his head.

Unfortunately, the next person to enter the room was the last person he wanted to be alone in a room with. Though his eyes were shut, Sandor knew Sansa was there, he recognized the sound of her footsteps, and the feel of her cold hand against his face. He pretended to be asleep, but knew somehow that it wasn't fooling her.

Sandor's feelings about Sansa were all mixed up. Not that they'd ever been straightforward and easy to understand to begin with, but this skin changing business and the bond between them made it even more difficult. Did he ever like her at all, or was his fondness for her simply because she was unknowingly coercing him into liking her?

He found her annoying once, young and naive, and once he would have turned her over to Joffery without a second thought simply because that was his duty. That had changed so gradually he thought it could only have been natural. But magic changed everything. He couldn't sort out what his real feelings were, or what Sansa's real feelings were.

What did Sansa feel about this, was she as conflicted about it as he was? They needed to talk about this, but now was not the time, this was not the place. And Sandor dreaded the thought, on one hand wanting just forget about the whole thing, drop Sansa and Arya off with their aunt and never deal with it, but on the other wanting to forget the magic and just be with Sansa because they wanted to be together.

Sansa's hand left his face and her footsteps retreated without ever saying a word to him. A terrible feeling came over him. Coward. He scolded himself.

Morning came and he could sit up on his own, and eat by himself instead of having to be spoon fed. Nana announced that he was strong enough to ride, but that they would be wise to take it easy and not go far today. Sandor limped as he walked, and couldn't get far on his own without someone having to help him keep his balance, but once Stranger was saddled he could get up and ride on his own.

Unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Nana was too old and frail to go far on her own either. The orphans that found them had been looking for a horse to carry the old woman. It took some convincing but Sandor agreed to let the old crone ride with him, assuring Stranger that it was alright. His horse seemed to sense his unease regarding his other rider though, and was difficult to control. The day's journey was accompanied by Stranger's angry snorts.

The company was led by Arya's wolf, Nymeria. As Sandor remembered, the beast was always a little wild, much like Arya herself, but their time apart had made Nymeria perhaps a little more so. He hoped she wasn't too wild now.

The children were silent on the road, it reminded him of the first war he'd fought it as a foot soldier only a few years older than any of them. He pitied them, Quiet Isle or not, the only one of them that had a chance at having a normal life was the toddler. His bother's bastard.

Sansa was carrying the boy again. Did she know that child was his nephew? He had a nephew, that thought seemed strange to Sandor, though it wasn't surprising. What was it they said? Fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents. He probably had several nephews and nieces out in the world somewhere.

Sandor was curious about the boy's mother. He didn't think it was an accident that Gregor had been in the area within the same week the mother of one of his bastards drowned. The fact she had red hair like Sansa's made him nervous.

Magic aside, it was too easy to imagine their places swapped; Sansa and this other girl, himself and his brother, like looking into a mirror that showed the dark side of things. No doubt Gregor had raped her, and what was in his blood was also in Sandor's. The parallel was too obvious to be a coincidence, as if the gods were warning him.

Fire was not the only fear that haunted him his whole life, the shadow of his brother and what he was followed Sandor. Deep down, the possibility that he was just like his brother was perhaps more frightening than any flame.

Sandor vomited over the side of his horse twice, almost hitting the child he heard called Steph. The sun was barely at it's peek when they came across a ruined cabin that the orphans scouted out as declared was abandoned. "We'll stop here." Nana said, "Rest some more boy, or you'll make yourself sick again."

Each child set to work at some assigned task they were used to doing. Steph and Lynn unpacked battered sleeping rolls that were barely any better than sleeping on the ground. A third boy Sandor did not know the name of went out to collect wood and Alyss took a poorly crafted bow to try to hunt, Arya and the wolf went with her into the forest.

Once all the usual chores were finished Nana also sent Sansa and the remaining children out to look for water. She, Sandor and Aren were the only ones left by the fire. Sandor still didn't ever look at her, but she seemed to be constantly be studying him. She had a bit of parchment in her lap and seemed to be writing a letter. To who? Sandor was suspicious.

"There are more than a few figures of power that want you dead. If I were spying for one of the dangerous ones, I would have let you die." Nana chuckled, when she put her quill down.

"Are you admitting you are a spy then?" Sandor growled.

"Yes, and I have been for many years." Nana said, "The High Lords of Westeros play their game of thrones, I know their rules and how to play, but they never stop to think about what games their pawns are playing, do they?"

"What?"

"Being a spy means I know what my master knows, what he needs to know and what he doesn't know." Nana replied, "Word of you and the girls is extremely valuable to them, but thee of you are worth much more free. More than you know. "

Nana started to cough again, the slip of paper she was writing fell out of her lap and at just an angle that Sandor could make out the words.: Found runaway dog raising two orphaned wolf pups. It was vague and did not give their location, but Sandor was glad when the fire popped and an ember began to burn the paper to ash.

When she spoke again the topic of conversation shifted abruptly, and she spoke to him as if he were child again, waiting for his grandfather to tell him stories. "Have you ever hear the story of Azor Ahai and Nissa Nissa, boy?"

Sandor watched the letter burn, not particularly caring but as long as information about himself and the girls did not go back to King's Landing he could pretend to be interested long enough to keep the old lady distracted. "No, but do tell."

Nana closed her eyes and laid on her side, for a moment Sandor thought she'd forgotten what she was talking about. "I don't remember where or who from or how old I was when I first heard this tale. Must have been my first marriage when my husband took me to Asshai But I will remember it until I die."

"That's inspirational." Sandor muttered under his breath but Nana didn't hear him.

"They said that Darkness laid over the world in those days and a hero, Azor Ahai, chose to fight against it. To that end Azor Ahai had to forge a hero's sword. For thirty days and thirty nights he worked until it was the sword was forged. However, when it broke in the water when he went to temper it. He dared not give up so easily, and so he began again."

"This time he worked fifty days and fifty nights to make the sword, and it even better than the first! He captured a lion and drove the sword into its heart to temper it this time, but again the steel shattered in his hand."

"At last, his heart grew heavy and Azor Ahai labored for a hundred days and nights until he completed the sword. This time, he called for his wife, Nissa Nissa, and asked her to bare her breast to him. He drove his sword into her living heart, her soul combining with the steel of the sword, creating Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes."

"So some dumb cunt wasted one hundred and eighty days forging a sword and murdered his wife and claimed he did it to save the world." Sandor snorted. "Lovely tale."

"Survival often means sacrifice." Nana said, "What about you, boy? What would you be willing to sacrifice to save the world?"

"I wouldn't sacrifice a damn thing. I'm no savior, I'm not even a knight if you recall."

"The story never says Azor Ahai was either." Nana replied, with a chuckle "The legend varies from mouth to mouth, many scholars cite that Azor Ahai was a hero chosen by greater forces, the Lord of Light perhaps, but I prefer the version where he was the one to choose his path."

"Who cares if he was chosen by some gods, One or if he fucking did it on his own accord." Sandor said, "Apparently, he saved the world, or else we wouldn't be talking about him today."

"Yes, he did save the world." Nana agreed, "When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake the dragons out of stone." She spoke as if she were quoting some ancient verse.

"Fuck, you're about to tell me history's gonna repeat itself aren't you?" Sandor took back his earlier thought, he'd rather be listening to her talking about being a spy than this nonsense. '

Already his head was still buzzing with the skin-changing and warging business, he didn't need to be caught up in some weird legends and prophecies too.

"Why not?" Nana asked with a smile. "Darkness is gathering. The red star has bled, and the dragons are waking."

"Winter is coming, nothing more."

"Surely you don't believe that, do you?" The fire crackled and the shadows dancing on Nana's face seemed to grow darker, making her seem even older than ever. "You've lived through several winters, I've lived through many. This one feels different. It will be long, very long."

"And just what poor cunt do you think will be born again amidst smoke and salt to save us? Oh, don't tell me. My little nephew. Gregor's bastard, if he lives long enough, born between some burning battle field and the sea, right?" Sandor nodded to Aren, the little savior. Ha, what an irony that would be. Nana stared at him. "What?"

"The same can be said of yourself can it not?" Nana said, "Maybe not the first time you were born, but your rebirth now. Between the fires of war and the Saltpans we are headed."

"I'm not being reborn."

"Yes you are."

The popping of the fire was the only sound for several long minutes "Wait are you seriously saying that you think this Azer Ahoy guy reborn is me?" He snorted disbelievingly. Him, Sandor of HouseClegane a hero chosen by the fucking fire god? He'd sooner return to the Red Keep and take those damn vows to become a knight.

Nana only chuckled and shook her head, "I'm saying if you claimed to be, more than a few people would believe you. A big strong warrior who's been touched by fire all his life is exactly what they want from their savior." She said with a mischievous smile, "They'd follow without question. Can you imagine that, Hound? An entire army between your Little Bird and those who wish to hurt her-"

She might have continued if not for the coughing fit that struck the old woman, taking her words from her lips and her mind. Once Sandor got her some water, Nana no longer seemed to remember what Azor Ahai even meant. Instead she looked to the fire and the ash pile that had been her letter, "Oh dear. I'm going to need more parchment."

Sandor still balked at the idea of even pretending he was some legendary hero reborn. Sure, to protect Sansa he'd be willing to do a lot of things he never dreamed of while he was in service to the Lannisters. And an army between them and their enemies would certainly make things a whole hell of a lot easier, but Sandor could not imagine himself in such a role. Not even as just an act.

The group that had gone to get water returned. A wolf howled in the distance, probably Nymeria. Sansa sat beside Sandor and touched his arm, as if she sensed his unease, seven hells, with this bond she probably could. Sandor hated to think it, but he wished they were back at the capital.

At least there he knew what he was up against…