Second Chance // Sandor Clegane

9. Rude Houseguests

    Days later, we were stood around as the Hound urinated and Arya finicked with some foliage she had picked. I was gazing at the mountains ahead when she spoke. "Gonna rain soon, where are we?"

    "Near Fair Market, I think," came the reply, along with the sound of Sandor's pants being fastened. 

    "You think? You don't have a map?"

    "No, I don't have a map."

    "I have a map," I spoke up, pulling it from my satchel and handing it over to Arya. 

    "At least someone is useful," she snarked, looking towards the Hound. She examined the piece of parchment as we walked around the rock formations.

    We were startled by a voice above us. "Seven blessings to you." We all looked up simultaneously to see a man and his young daughter being pulled by a horse. 

    "What do you want?" Barked Sandor.

    "What do I want? This is my land."

    "If I'm standing on it, it's my land," jeered the Hound. 

    "We were just watering our horses, we'll be on our way," I said with a smile, raising my hand to the burly man next to me.

    Arya stood up next. "Forgive my father, he was wounded fighting in the war. Our cottage burned down while he was gone. He's never been the same." I had to stifle a giggle, her quick and believable lie catching me by surprise.

    The man looked at Sandor sympathetically, then back at Arya. "Which house did he fight for?" 

    I watched her rack her brain, it not taking very long. "The Tullys of Riverrun."

    That seemed to be the right answer, because the man smiled. "There's a storm coming. You'll be wanting a roof tonight. There's fresh hay in the barn. And Sally here makes rabbit stew just like her mom used to do. We don't have much, but any man that bled for House Tully is welcome to it."

    As we sat around the table, empty bowls in front of everyone, the man began a prayer of the Faith of the Seven.

    I had zoned out, lost in my own mind, when Sandor's gruff voiced pulled me back to reality, "You got to do all seven of the fuckers?" 

    I chuckled under my breath while Arya shouted, "Father!" And looked to the man to continue.

    As he did, the Hound interjected once more. "And we ask the stranger not to kill us in our beds tonight for no damn reason at all." He grabbed the pot of stew before anyone else had the chance and sloppily poured himself a large portion.

    "I'm so sorry," Arya apologized, as she followed suit.

    I smiled sympathetically at the man and his daughter and gestured for them to serve themselves first. I took a much smaller portion than my two companions, eating slowly, trying my hardest not to gag as Sandor and Arya slurped their bowls down feverishly.

    I had consumed some human food during my time in Westeros, only when I could not avoid it, but I was always able to throw up in isolation afterwards.

    "Really good," Arya commented, continuing to swallow. 

    The landowner spoke up again. "Did you fight at the Twins?"

    "Call that a fight? Slaughtering livestock, more like." I sat quietly, listening intently. 

    "The Red Wedding, they're calling it. Walder Frey committed sacrilege that day. He shared bread and salt with the Starks, he offered them guest right," the farmer spoke, his voice growing more frustrated.