Sandor I

Sandor Clegane continued digging the grave. Mud and dirt coated his habit as sweat poured down his obscured face. His entire body was on fire, but not from the exertion that he was required to do multiple times a day. It occurred from a conversation that still echoed in his ears. There were two knights talking about the Hound, him. Sandor wondered how the knights would have reacted if they realized that the outlaw they were searching for was right in front of them. He knew they were searching for a scarred warrior possessed by rage and hate, not a simple novice with a limp, who dug graves. Sandor had heard the rumors. Of the Saltpans. The Brave Companions had invaded the city of Saltpans, looting, raping, and murdering the citizens. It reminded Sandor the sack of King's Landing during Robert's Rebellions, when he was only a boy of twelve. Most of the atrocities were blamed on the Hound. Sandor had heard with his very own ears that the Hound had raped a girl of twelve before gouging her breasts. Now the outlaw was being hunted from King's Landing to the riverlands. It seemed that everyone wanted his head. The two knights who had talked about the sack of Saltpans were right behind him when one knight opening wondered if the Hound was responsible for the wounds of a now-dead man who Sandor was now burying. "He cut poor Clement's tongue out when he would not speak. Since he had taken a vow of silence, the raider said that he had no need of it."

Those words still haunted him even though they had been uttered a fortnight ago. After he had heard the news from the Elder Brother that one of the knights was Lady Brienne of Tarth searching for the whereabouts of Sansa Stark, who had disappeared during the night of King Joffrey's murder, Sandor's mouth had twitched and had remained morosely silent during the modest dinner at the Quiet Isle. The Elder Brother had misread the origin of his distress and had told him, "Lady Brienne was searching for the Hound as well, but I told her that the Hound was dead. You are safe." That night Sandor had remained sleepless, memories resurfacing from his former life. "Sing, little bird. Sing for your little life." She had sung him a song, a long forgotten song that his own sister had sung to him whenever he was hurt or afraid. Some nights the half-forgotten song enabled him to sleep. Guiltily, the calm and sweet voice of his sister was not the one who sang. It was the voice of a terrified girl who had a knife to her throat.

Winter was now at hand. The Quiet Isle was not spared from the cold ferociousness of the short winter days and nights. Bodies slowly stopped flowing from the Trident. The war was finished, the Elder Brother had told him and the other refugees on the island. Sandor didn't believe it, although he didn't share his opinion. The ground was now hard as iron, and even someone as strong as him couldn't continue to dig graves. Sandor now had different tasks. However, the former sworn sword missed the toil of digging. It cleared his mind; it cleared all memories from his head; especially of her. Sansa Stark reminded him of what he had lost, who he had lost, and she had a strange effect on him. She was almost like wine to him, although wine had never tasted so good. Sandor was certain she hadn't murdered the king. He had wanted to spit when he had heard that. He knew that the people were quick to blame her because her father had been a traitor. He still remembered of how she had screamed when Eddard Stark had been beheaded. It reminded of…no, he couldn't remember. Her scream echoed in his ears, even though it had been two years since her father's death. Sandor was certain no one knew who he was; he kept his face obscured by the cowl attached to the habit he wore. No one saw his face, and even if they saw his eyes, they would only see a broken man. They would see a man who was empty. The only one who knew who Sandor truly was the Elder Brother. The former knight had healed his wounds the best he could, and had accepted him as a novice in the Quiet Isle. "Eventually," the Elder Brother said many times as Sandor lied bedridden, the Hound will be gone. He will cease to exist."

Sandor had refused to believe that the Hound would be gone. It would always be a part of him. The monster inside of him would be sleeping until it had awoken. Sandor didn't know what would happen when it did. There was a part of him that would always be related to the Hound, and that was Sansa Stark. The Hound had referred to her as little bird, and had tried to protect her from those soiled knights who had beaten her bloody. The Hound had stopped the mob from raping her, and had offered to escape with him. He remembered those beautiful blue eyes that had been sharp with fear as she gazed at him. Sansa Stark only knew to fear him. She only knew the cruel and broken man he had been, and Sandor wondered if she would recognize the man he had attempted to become.

The Elder Brother stood in front of him. Although Sandor towered over him, he still felt like a child before him. The former knight had calmed his demons from his past, something Sandor knew he could never do. Last time when he had confessed his sins, Sandor had replied that he thought about killing the culprit who had chosen to use his helm when he had invaded Saltpans. The Elder Brother had remained silent, although Sandor saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He wondered now what the Elder Brother would react when he would tell his latest thought.

"I had a thought of leaving the Quiet Isle, Elder Brother," Sandor made certain to choose his words carefully. The Elder Brother remained expressionless. "Ever since those knights came here a fortnight ago, I have had sleepless nights, and my only thoughts are on her." This time Sandor saw the Elder Brother nod. "Many times you shouted out for someone while abed. I don't know who, but you called her little bird." Sandor had tried not to think of Sansa Stark, but it was as hard as drinking wine again after all these months without it. "I keep thinking that she needs me. I know that the female knight will fail. I know that I have no sword or amour, only myself, but…"

"You need her as much as she needs you," the Elder Brother calmly stated for him. Sandor nodded. He had come to realize that Sansa Stark was the only fire he wasn't afraid of. He had heard in his youth the wildlings in the North had a special saying for those with auburn or red hair. Kissed by fire, they said. She was the only fire that Sandor had grown to not fear.

"I need to protect her as I did in the past," Sandor said. His voice had become raspy again. It had been such a long time since he had spoken last. More than a couple of minutes had passed. Instead of staying still, the Elder Brother stood. He continued to walk and uncomprehending, Sandor followed him. He didn't notice that his limp was finally gone, and that something had woken within him. The Elder Brother stopped in front of a stall. Sandor stood beside him, lost for words. "My horse…Stranger…" he watched as Stranger stood calmly before him. "I didn't know you still kept him."

"I thought you wouldn't stay with us for long, Sandor." Sandor started, surprised that the Elder Brother had called him by his name. He was only known as novice to him before. "Your place isn't here." He gestured to Stranger. "It appears that the horse had calmed with the master. Your time is done, Sandor. I know you mean to rescue Sansa Stark." Wordlessly, Sandor grasped Stranger's reins and climbed onto him. His movements were smooth as water again. He glanced again at the Elder Brother as Stranger started to stamp. He eased his hand down onto the horse's nostril and stroked until the horse calmed. The Elder Brother stared back at him, and Sandor was surprised when he saw the empathy in his eyes. "A long time ago, I loved a girl who I promised my hand. After the battle that cost my honor and when I continued to stay at the Quiet Isle as decades went passed, I told myself that I would be satisfied with us meeting in the afterlife. The promise still lingers in my heart, Sandor. I know that you will fulfill your promise to her no matter what you promised her." Now he opened the stall door and stood still as Sandor Clegane flew past him.

Sandor didn't look back. He only looked forward, and urged Stranger to run faster. I'm coming, little bird, I'm coming.