AN: Inspired by and dedicated to RiRi-Rhiannon (also certainly an author worth checking out).

The north was no place for the likes of him, Sandor told himself as he trudged through the ankle-deep snow after the red-haired Stark girl. Too long, he frowned sullenly, too long in King's Landing. He should have left earlier. So long had he been there that he had forgotten what the cold really felt like as it seeped through to skin and had him shivering. To make matters worse, he had given his fur-lined cloak to Sansa, despite her being more used to the cold than he was. It was much too big for the girl and brushed along the snow, now caked with white around the hem.

When aware that he was lagging behind, Sandor cursed under his breath and caught up with the girl, now dogging her heels. He was a dog, after all, or so Joffrey had allowed him to believe. The Hound, he was known by. His personality rather matched one of a dog's too. And this one had vowed to protect the Stark girl as he brought her home. Home to Winterfell.

Sansa eagerly moved ahead through the woods, Sandor willingly following and almost at a trot. A gloom spread through the sea of trees and darkness soon fell upon them. Yet she did not stop, determined to get a good distance closer to the remains that she had once called home. Sandor was struggling to keep up and it took an effort to do so. He gently grabbed the girl by the forearm and turned her around to face him. "We should rest, little bird. It's growing dark and I do not wish to find out what might be lurking in the trees."

Disappointment danced across Sansa's face as she glanced up, her cheeks tinted crimson from the cold that bit at her face. Only for a second did she look directly at Sandor before averting her gaze from his scarred and burnt face to the ground. She still did not have the courage to stare at him longer than a few seconds, but reluctantly nodded her consent at the snow.

Sandor approved and found himself a tree to rest under, pressing his back against the trunk and tightly folding his arms across his chest as a form of warmth. Sansa settled nearby under another tree, pulling Sandor's coat closer against herself as she lay down uncomfortably. "No fire." He had warned. It could attract unwanted attention, though she had an inkling that it was more than that.

Sansa did not sleep, and nor did Sandor. Wind whistled and branches creaked above and around them and Sandor could have sworn he heard a wolf howl in the distance. Maybe it was just the leaves rustling, or his own imagination, he did not know.

The Hound grunted and turned over, his ears deceiving him of the approacher. He was only aware when they lay down and pressed against his chest. Upon realising it was Sansa, he almost reeled back in surprise, though he did not complain as her head found the crook of his neck as she sought for warmth. He would have never expected her to so much as walk alongside him, never mind sleep beside him. Sandor blamed it on the biting wind.

However, he did not protest. The corners of his lips twitched into a faint smile as a large arm secured itself in an almost protective manner around Sansa's small waist. She felt... safer. Safer than she had been in King's Landing. Safer than she had in a long time. Since Joffrey had demanded her father's head.

Despite the man's usual mannerisms, this was another side to him that she had not yet seen. The warmth lulled her into a sense of security, her knees tucking up into Sandor's lower abdomen.

"Sleep well, little bird." He murmured softly, pleased when Sansa's shaking limbs calmed. When aware that she was asleep, he relaxed and gently pressed his nose into her red hair, inhaling the sweet scent. Exhaustion washed over him and, assured that the Stark girl was warm and safe, he gave in to his weariness and let sleep consume him.