The Hound and His Little Bird

Chapter Seven: Fear

The first thing she felt in the morning was her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. The next instant, Sansa felt utterly sick to her stomach. When she tried sitting up, her head pounded in protest and her stomach lurched uncomfortably. She pushed herself out of the bed and stumbled over to the washbin in almost complete darkness. She heaved, her stomach cramping uncomfortably. A white hot pain shot through her cheek down her neck and faintly she swore she tasted blood in her mouth.

In the background she heard Sandor wake up, growling and stumbling over to her in the dark. A moment later, a candle was lit and he was crouching down beside her. Sansa waited, her stomach still rolling, and reluctantly fell down on her bottom. She touched her cheek automatically, feeling a little blood seeping through, but otherwise all her stitches were still in place. "Bloody hells girl, you shouldn't drink no wine," the Hound snapped, taking her chin to turn her stitches toward him and the candlelight.

She only let him look a moment before she pulled away and heaved into the washbin again. "Why am I so sick?" she moaned softly. Her mind was fuzzy and she couldn't recall most of what happened last night. She remembered vaguely being offered some wine for her cheek, but it was utterly blank after that.

"The wine, Little bird. You had too much for sure, you stupid girl," he snapped. He didn't sound as angry as his word; more of he was tired. Attempting to focus, she noticed the bags under his eyes, much worse than usual and even a touch of concern. For her, perhaps? She hadn't thought he could be concerned about her. Reluctantly, she pushed herself up onto her unsteady legs and attempted to stand. She stumbled and instantly put her hands out, catching herself on the Hound. She mumbled an apology, wincing at the throbbing pain in her head. "You're in no condition to go nowhere, girl," he grunted, going to put her back in the bed.

"I'm fine. We need to get moving, you said so yourself," she told him, stepping away from him. She swayed slightly, but managed to fight down the wave of nausea and keep on her feet. "Just let me change and I can be ready in fifteen minutes." She felt sweaty and gross and wished she could wash up. Perhaps after they were on the road a bit.

"Little bird, this isn't the time to argue," he said, his voice giving all sorts of warnings of arguments.

"That's why we won't be. Are you ready to go?" She turned and stumbled over to her bags for a clean dress. She was grateful that she hadn't gotten anything on her dress. The purple one her favorite so far. When she started looking around for her clothes, blinking rapidly to clear her foggy head, she could feel the Hound's eyes on her back and almost sense the glower he was most likely giving her. After a moment, she huffed in frustration. Where were her clothes at?

It took her a moment to remember that her clothes were outside, still drying from the day before. With a sigh, she turned to the Hound, who was watching her with the most unamused expression she'd ever seen. "I'll just wear this until we stop. Let's get going so we don't start out late," she said. Sansa felt like she was talking to a wall, by the look on his face and the lack of reply. After a long moment of awkward, frustrating silence, she asked, "Well, are you ready?"

After a moment, the Hound started laughing. It was the last thing Sansa had expected and, for a moment, she had no clue what to say. Still, it got the Hound up. "You think you're ready to go, Little Bird? Fine, can't wait to see how well this goes." He grabbed his bags and threw her an empty one. She barely managed to catch the thing and the room spun by her sudden movements. She almost thought she was going to heave yet again, but her stomach settled. By the expression on his face, it was obvious Sandor had expected this. "Grab the garments." He grabbed her bags and started out.

After a moment, Sansa followed him slowly, trying to keep herself from swaying. She barely made it out of the building before she had to lean against the wall to keep the area from spinning. The Hound didn't even look at her as he started over to where the horses were at. She took the moment to crouch over and stop the place from swimming. After a moment of deep breathing and keeping her eyes shut, Sansa straightened up and started towards the line all of their garments were hanging off of. She collected each one, folded them carefully, and stuffed them all into the empty bag. It hardly closed, but she knew it was smarter to travel as light as possible while they were on the run. She'd already acquired too much, with all the books she had, but Sansa had to be able to keep herself occupied as well.