The Hound and His Little Bird

Chapter Twenty: Stalled

The smell of blood reached her sense of smell and the taste was on her tongue when Sansa blinked open her eyes. She was staring down at the heavy snowfall, the ground blanketed in white. However, when she fixed her eyes on directly beneath her, the white was red. Blood was everywhere beneath her and she could smell it over her neck and chest and paws...

Paws?

Sansa was on all fours, in the woods, standing in the snow. A crow cawed above her head, but when she cocked her head to the side, she couldn't see a thing. Shaking herself out, her gaze focused back to the ground beneath her. That was where the dead animal came into view. She stared down at the carcass, filled with horror and a bit of hunger still. Her stomach didn't curl like she expected.

Slowly, she backed away from the blood, from the stench, despite the fact her mouth began to water. Then she turned and ran. Further and further away her powerful legs carried her. Sansa isn't quite in control of the body, whatever she is in, but the body seemed to understand she needed to go.

It's as she's running, when they started to speak. What had been a single crow high above her quickly turned to ten, then twenty, and more and more. They all started to swarm her, swooping down. They screamed, "They're coming! They're coming!" and started to land on her, pecking at her.

She is no longer worried about the mess she had left behind. Now she is trying to escape. The crows are insistent, pressing closer and closer, drowning her in their ink black feathers. She tried to shake them off, but they cling to her, nipping and ripping off bits of her. Everything hurts. Her lungs began to burn, her legs throbbed in pain, and it felt as if she started to bleed. But her salvation is in sight; a creek. She doesn't even pause; she pushed on, almost flying across the ground in her speed.

And, as she's diving into the freezing cold water, she realized she is staring at the reflection of Grey Wind...

Sansa came to without a sound. Her heart was hammering in her chest, she almost felt like she was sweating. For several long moments, she just lay there, figuring where she was at. The room is still pitch black, aside from a tiny candle flickering in the corner of her room upon a table. Sandor isn't in the room. It doesn't look like he was there at all last night. Slowly, she scooted off the uncomfortable bedding and walked towards the candle. Next to the light is a platter of flat biscuits, a cooked potato, and a slice of seared pork.

The food was still warm to the touch. Had Sandor just brought the food up to her? Why hadn't he woken her? Wasn't there much to be done? Didn't he want to get rid of her? Slowly, she picked up the platter of food and settled back down on the bed. Her thoughts quite depressing, Sansa poked listlessly at the food. She knew it was important to eat, to consume what food was available, but what little of her appetite that had come back was gone again.

She forced herself to consume the biscuits and potato, but looking at the pork, she knew she would never finish it herself.

Perhaps Grey Wind might enjoy it.

This gave her a reason to check up on the direwolf too.

The dream hadn't shaken her up much, but Sansa still thought on it. Seeing Grey Wind would make her feel more confident that what she had seen was just a dream. All of her doubts about the dragons would also disappear. Somehow, she must have heard Daenery's Targareyn's name from her father, at some point or another, whether she had just stumbled upon the information. That and combined with the stories from Old Nan, it would make sense that she would dream about a Targaryen with dragons. It had to make sense.

She bundled herself into her cloak once more, tucked the thin sword and daggers within reach beneath the fabrics, and kept the pork hidden, so no one would be able to see her carry it out. If someone saw it, questions might come up and that was something Sansa desperately wanted to avoid.