Sansa blinked in the bright sunlight, then blinked again at the sight before her. Though she had hidden for mere moments, the landscape had changed drastically. Where once brothers had stood, some now lay in heaps of dun and brown cloth, the frozen ground soft from hard use. The ground was tinged with sprays and puddles of red. Those still living held arms swinging swords and daggers at bay, only to be dropped by arrows. Around the side of the hill, she heard the clatter of steel meeting wood and Sansa inched around.

Following the sound, she recognized the back of the Elder Brother's shaved head as he swung a wooden pole at a young man built like an ox. Nearby, Sandor's sword clashed against that of a great man with a badly crooked nose and a faded yellow cloak. Though Sandor was the bigger, the other was not hindered by an old wound. As she watched, his footing became unsteady as he slipped on a slick patch of earth. The yellow cloaked man pressed his advantage and Sandor went down to one knee, his leg unable to support him in the thick mud. Just in time, his sword blocked a swing at his head.

Unnoticed, Sansa eased around the pair, looking for some way she could help. Seeing an opening, she adjusted her grip on the knife and started forward.

Only to be pulled back again. She was spun around to face her captor, the hand holding her knife kept immobile by the grip on her wrist. Despite pulling as hard as she could, Sansa was kept in place by a tall man in a faded yellow cloak. As she struggled, the man stared. Then he brought his free hand up and grasped her face, turning her head to look at him directly. After a moment, he gave a single nod.

"I found her," he bellowed to the other invaders. To her he added, "Someone's been looking for you." With a sharp pull to her arm, he began to drag her down the hill. Sansa struggled, but was ineffective against the large man.

In one of the beached boats, a hooded and cloaked figure sat, facing out to the distant shore. The noise of the large man dropping Sansa into the boat caused the figure to turn. The first thing she noticed was that the figure was a woman. Thin, white, brittle hair showed from under the hood, framing a scratched, yellowing face. But her eyes were a blue she remembered. It was a color she had seen every day of her childhood, every day she looked in the mirror at King's Landing. She felt her lips shape the word before she recognized the sound of her own voice.

"Mother?"

The face of the apparition did nothing, but a hand reached out, the tips of fingers brushing her cheek. The fingers were soft, much too soft to be real. Or perhaps she had grown hard. But it was impossible for Lady Catelyn Stark to sit before her. As the creature moved on the bench, adjusted to face Sansa completely, the opening of the cloak shifted. A wide, deep, red line ran from one side of her throat to another. A wheezing sound from the opening in the neck made Sansa shudder. The apparition raised the hand not touching her cheek to its throat and covered the hole.

"Sansa," it whispered, a barely audible sound.

"Let her go!" a great bellow came from behind them. Turning, Sansa saw Sandor held back by two of the invaders. His cowl had dropped away, revealing his scars and wide, frantic eyes. The yellow cloaked man waited for a nod from the creature before pulling his sword and making his way up the slope.

"No!" Sansa cried. She turned to the thing that looked like her mother. "Please. He protected me and helped me escape King's Landing with no thought for his own gain. Please, do not let him be hurt, please."

The corners of the pale mouth moved in a mockery of a smile. The overly soft touch did not stop, but rather felt more possessive.

"It is over," the wraith mouthed. "You are safe."

The thought that she was safe with a witch pretending to be her mother made her sick. She pulled from the monster and scrambled from the boat. "Leave him alone," she yelled as she struggled up the slick coast. "Let him go!"

She saw the man reach for her and dodged around him as he slipped on a patch of mud. As she reached one of the men holding Sandor, she remembered the knife in her hand. Before he could react, Sansa drew her hand back before plunging the knife in his belly. The man must have been wearing some sort of armor or her strike was too weak because the dull blade simply slid past. The man let go of Sandor's arm and reached to grab Sansa. Sandor reacted instantly to the lack of pressure to drive his elbow into the man before punching the one who held his other arm. Finally freed, he reached out to her.

Sansa grasped his hand and was pulled up the hill, not daring to look back at the frightening being in the boat. The shout of "Lady Sansa" caused her head to snap up. Near the vegetable gardens, presumably coming from the women's cottages, stood a tall blonde figure in old blue armor.

"Brienne," Sansa answered. "We're being attacked, help us!"

Rather than making for the attackers behind the pair, though, Brienne of Tarth made her way up the hill as well, as though to intercept the pair. Glancing back, Sansa saw the invaders held back, waiting for something.

"Release her, Hound!" Brienne shouted, sword drawn.

Sandor froze beside her. His hand shook in her own and, when she looked at him, his eyes wide and haunted. His lips moved, but Sansa had to move closer to hear his whispered words. "I failed. I couldn't protect you," he repeated over and over.

Panicking, she tried to pull him with her up the hill to safety again. "You can protect me now. Come with me now," she pleaded.

"Turn and fight me, dog," Brienne challenged from behind them.

"They are the invaders," Sansa gestured to the group that had formed down at the docks. "They are the danger, not him."

"He is meant to be dead, my lady. But your mother lives. I promised Lady Stark I would reunite her with her daughters."

"My mother is dead." Sansa let go of Sandor's hand to stand between them. "I was there. I stood outside the gates, and watched men loyal to the North be slaughtered. I am only alive because of Sandor protecting me."

Brienne shifted impatiently. "Lady Sansa, I know you trust this man. But you are not safe here. If the Brotherhood without Banners can find you, it is only a matter of time until someone who means to harm you does as well. An island of penitent brothers cannot protect you, even if one is the Hound returned from the dead."

"They know I am here because you brought them." She knew it wasn't ladylike, but Sansa found herself snarling the last.

The warrior maid shook her head. "You led them here with a note entrusted to a traveling septon."

Sansa felt her breath catch. "Septon Meribald?" Brienne gravely nodded. "What did you do to him?" Then she remembered something else. "What about Arya? I sent you to find her. Where is she?"

Brinne looked back to the gathered group. Sansa saw the man in the yellow cloak make a gesture. "Your mother found me instead. If you will not be parted from the Hound, then he will come as well, Lady Sansa, but I promised your mother you would be reunited with her. It is time I fulfilled that oath."

"That is not my mother," Sansa repeated. "She died at the Twins."

"The Red God has mysterious powers," Brienne stated. "He has brought her back."

The words were familiar to Sansa and she nodded hesitantly. "Very well." She took Sandor's hand. "We will go with you."