Winter, thy enemy, thy friend - Part 3

Sandor

When Sandor reached the hut and dropped the rope of the sleigh on the ground, he had hardly time to straighten himself when the door burst open and the girl rushed out.

“Sandor!” She jumped at him and as surprised as he was, he extended his arms and caught her.

“Sandor, you came back!” He could hardly hear the words she mumbled against his shoulder, her face buried in his new furs.

Sandor? She had never called him thus and hearing it woke something in him. Not many people had, and even fewer of them had been women.

“Of course I came back…Sansa,” he rumbled, savouring the sound of her name as it came out of his mouth. He felt equally strange saying it, almost guilty, as if it was something forbidden. “The village was further than I thought, and the return trip slower going because of this.” He gestured at the sleigh piled full of supplies.

Carefully he lowered her on the ground but she didn’t let go, clutching at him. It took more soothing words, the same he had always used with his horses, to make her release her grip.

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