Thank you so much for checking out my Fic. I have plans for this to be a full story, but I want to get a feel for if this is something you lovely readers will enjoy. This will be rated M for language and... other things. I will make sure to let you know here at the beginning of each chapter if anything crazy will be happening. So please leave a comment if this is something you want more of and if so I will try to update as often as possible!

"Why the fuck are we going to Winterfell?"

The small group of men made their way across the green hills, though snow had begun to collect on the dewy grass. Sandor Clegane looked down at the castle of Winterfell with distaste.

"Because winter is here and we need supplies. Now that Jon Snow has taken it back from that crazy bastard Ramsey there's a good chance he'll trade with us. I've heard he's a good man." Thoros explained.

"There are no good men." Sandor sneered. "Besides, I thought you lot were ghosts. What do ghosts need to trade?"

"Aye, we are. But we are also men and trading goods is necessary. We'll be staying here for a couple weeks to gather resources before heading back out." Beric said as he urged his horse forward.

"How did that Snow bastard take Winterfell anyways? I didn't think the Northerners would follow a bastard."

"I heard he led a great army against Ramsey and his forces. Mostly wildlings and smaller houses, though the Vale joined in near the end." Thoros mused.

"Wildlings huh? I guess he is different than his father. But still, his place as Lord here can't be secure."

"From what I heard they're calling him the King in the North."

Sandor laughed humorlessly. "I've heard that before."

"True. But things are different this time. There is no one to truly challenge him now. The Lannister's have been reduced to only Cersei and she won't last long."

"I wouldn't be so sure. She's a cunt, but she's resilient and hateful. Those are dangerous qualities." Sandor grumbled.

Just the thought of Cersei's face made him want to kill someone. God's he hated that bitch. An image of Arya flashed into his mind and he couldn't help but smile. He hoped she would get the chance to take her off her list.

"Besides, Jon has a stronger standing now that his sister has joined him in ruling Winterfell."

"Arya?" he frowned. He couldn't imagine her sitting in that castle ruling over anybody.

"No, though it would be good to see that girl again. She was a ferocious little thing. I meant Sansa."

Sandor pulled his horse to a stop. "Sansa Stark?"

"Unless you know of any other sisters Jon Snow has named Sansa." Thoros smirked.

The image of Sansa Stark came to his mind as clearly as if she were standing in front of him. He pictured her on the last night he saw her, with her wide frightened eyes and lovely red hair. He remembered the thoughts he used to have of her. The thoughts he had fought against with everything in his being, because he knew he could never act on them. She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, but she had also been little more than a child. Normally that wouldn't bother him, but she had been so gentle and delicate. She had been the first person he had ever actively wanted to protect. His little bird. Come to think of it, the only other person he had actively protected by his own will had been Arya Stark. What was it with the Stark girls?

They made their way closer until they were less than half a mile from the gates. Sandor didn't understand why he had a twisting feeling in his gut. Was it the idea of seeing Sansa again that made him feel this way? He shook his head in disgust. Sure, he had thought she was beautiful, and had wanted to protect her, but those feelings had long since faded. It been three years since he had seen the girl. Now she would just be another woman.

He couldn't help but feel a little disgusted at himself for the thoughts he used to have for her. He knew why he had wanted her. She had been a delicate little thing, and he was a beast. Beast's love destroying delicate things. The idea of holding something so fragile in his hands and seeing how far she could bend before she broke. He closed his eyes. Even now the thought turned him on and he hated himself for that. He had long ago accepted the man he was, and he was not deserving of someone like Sansa Stark. The only women he had even fucked had been whores, and Sansa wasn't that.

They finally reached the gates, which opened to allow them entry. They dismounted and led their horses to the stables. Beric approached a man who looked like a steward.

"I request an audience with Jon Snow and Sansa Stark."

"Who may I tell them is requesting it?"

"Beric Dondarrion."

The name seemed to ring a bell for the steward, for he bowed and rushed off. After a few minutes, he came back and nodded.

"They will see you now."

Beric, Thoros, and Sandor followed him into a spacious hall with a long table at the end. Jon Snow sat in the middle with a thick fur coat around his shoulders. He was young, with black curls and dark eyes. Sandor smirked. Women must love fucking him, the pretty lad. He was so concentrated on the bastard that he almost didn't notice the other person sitting at the table. Though once he saw her, he could see nothing else.

She was staring at him as well with a look of mixed shock and fear, with a little something else. Something that for a second had looked like she was pleased. He quickly dismissed that thought. She had never liked him.

"Beric Dondarrion." Jon greeted. "I recall my father talking of you. Though last I heard you were an outlaw."

"Aye, that we are, but we are honorable outlaws. We need a place to stay for a short while and we have brought goods to trade. We were hoping this would be the place."

Jon nodded. "Of course. Any friend of my fathers is welcome here."

His eyes moved to Thoros and then stopped on Sandor. A small frown creased his forehead.

"Are you the Hound?"

Sandor's lip twitched in anger at the name. "I used to be. I've joined up with this lot for now."

"So you are no longer aligned with the Lannister'?" Sansa spoke for the first time.

Her voice was not how he remembered it. No longer did she stammer over her words or shake when she spoke. Her voice was strong and demanding. Her eyes pierced him, refusing to look away. He

felt something like adrenaline pump through him. She was every bit as stunning as he remembered. Only now he wasn't looking at a girl, this was a woman.

Sandor realized he has been staring at her for too long and now everyone's eyes were on him.

"No, I hope the Lannister's all burn in hell like the demon fuckers they are." He spat.

Sansa's sharp eyes seemed to soften, which confused him. The old Sansa would have looked aghast at such a remark. This Sansa almost smiled.

"Good. Then we are of a like mind." She practically purred.

The sound stirred something in him, but he smashed it back down. He couldn't very well get a hard on while standing in front of everyone. They would know the reason and he would have to see the disgust on Sansa's face.

"What do I care what the wolf bitch thinks of me?" he thought furiously. He didn't need to be judged by the likes of her. He looked up and saw that she was still staring at him with those piercing blue eyes. She did not back down when caught staring. Instead she lifted her chin, almost in defiance. He couldn't help the smirk that appeared on his lips. His little bird had grown talons.

"We were hoping to pay for a few rooms as well. If not, we are fine camping in the woods."

"I'm not." Sandor snorted.

"That's fine, I will have a room made up for each of you. In the meantime, you can enjoy a meal from the kitchens."

"Thank you Lord Snow, you're most kind." Beric nodded.

Sandor made to leave but his eyes caught on Sansa again. She wasn't looking at him this time. Her face was turned and her eyes looked out the windows, lost in thought. In that light she almost looked like a Goddess.

"Put her out of your mind Clegane, the like's of her will never look twice at you."

Sansa sat at the head of the table beside Jon. The steward had told them Beric Dondarrion was here. She remembered that he had been a friend of her fathers. Any ally in this dangerous time was welcome. The doors opened and three men entered behind the steward. Sansa didn't even need to look at all of them before she saw him. He was the tallest of the three and his face was unmistakable. He looked a little worse for wear but overall the same. A mix of emotions rushed through her. First came shock, and then fear. For a split second, she thought he had come to drag her back to the Lannister's. Then she remembered he had left them even before she did. Then, the most surprising feeling of all, she felt pleased.

Her time in Kings Landing had been horrible, but in all her time there she could remember only two men who had been kind to her with no ulterior motive. He had been one. She never would have told anyone, but she had felt safe around him. Jon spoke to Beric, though she barely listened. The Hound was staring at her with a strange look on his face. It made her feel uneasy, though she wouldn't show it. She stared back without fear. She had faced worse than he Hound.

"Are you the Hound?" Jon asked.

Sandor looked angry by the question. Then again, he always looked angry. "I used to be. I've joined up with this lot for now."

"So you are no longer aligned with the Lannister's?" Sansa hadn't meant to speak, but the words had spilled out. She didn't know why she needed to know, she just felt it was important.

"No, I hope the Lannister's all burn in hell like the demon fuckers they are."

A twisted joy moved inside her chest. She once would have found the statement shocking. Now it only pleased her. So few men spoke what was on their mind with complete honesty. Now that she thought of it, Sandor Clegane was one of the most honest men she had ever met.

"Good. Then we are of a like mind."

Again, he looked at her with that strange expression. He looked away for a moment before bringing his eyes back to her. Suddenly he smirked. It was just a small smirk, but it held a hint of wickedness in it. Not like the wickedness of Joffrey or Ramsey. There was no cruelty in his face. It was the kind of wickedness that would make a normal Lady weak in the knees. But she was no normal Lady. She was a wolf, and she would not blush for a Hound.

The conversation ended and the men began to walk away. Sansa looked out the window. Why, of all the men, had Sandor Clegane been brought back into her life? She shook her head. It didn't matter. He would be gone soon. She had too much to worry about, she didn't need him lurking around. Yet she couldn't help but turn back to watch his back as he walked out the doors. The last time she had seen him she had been a little bird trapped in a cage full of cats. But now was different. Now she was a wolf in her own territory. She was not afraid anymore, and she would surely show that to the Hound.