Beauty and the Hound - Sandor Clegane

37 - The Wounded Hound

Sandor wanted to wake up in the arms of the woman he loved, or wanted to wake up to find her in his arms but he got neither. The wounded Hound instead woke up only to find her missing. He could hear people outside talking, no working on something.

They must be on to something. He lazily groaned, getting up to see what's the fuss about. But before he could even stand, someone entered.

A very tired looking Meela in a rag dress with her hair tied up in a very messy bun was standing on the doorstep. He felt something twitch in him and he quickly turned his head, not wanting to see her.

No doubt even her tired form was still very attractive for him if not arousing.

'Morning!' Meela beamed although tired, her cheerful nature surprising him.

She wasn't all fierce and moody, she was back to her bubbly self again and it made his stomach flip. He coughed out awkwardly, knowing just her presence is already affecting him.

After confessing that he loved her, he expected that he would be feeling really weird and embarrassed. But he loved it. He loved saying it to her. And he loved her reaction. She had a genuine expression of happiness on her face. It was unlike anything he has ever seen before and it only made him wonder why he didn't tell her this before.

'I'm sorry..the rain flooded the rivers and the old nan's house had water reaching up to her legs. We had to clear it out and help free the animals from their cages and-' and on and on she went, rambling
about her disappearance for the morning.

Meela finally stopped when she noticed Sandor looking straight at her eyes, not nodding or shaking his head or moving. Just glancing.

'What?' She asked him, her voice abit shaky.

'I need you woman. With me. Now. Always.' He tells her. Her heart dropped when she heard him. The tone of his voice. The look in his eyes.

It wasn't a calling to make her his. He didn't mean anything dirty at all. He just wanted her to be near him. At all times.

She smiled as she shut the hut door and walked to his bed, slipping under the sheets and lying next to him.

Sandor stubbornly turned to his side to face her, ignoring his sore bones. He reached out his hand and placed it on her cheek. He caresses it and sighs deeply. Her skin was so soft against his rough, large hand. She closed her eyes as his hand rested there.

'Closer woman. Please.' She knew what he meant by that. The bed had no room for 2, and his frame was already the size of 2. They were squeezing against each other but neither hated the idea of it. She giggled when she scooted closer, resting her head under his neck, next to his shoulder as his hand was placed on the small of her back. This was perfect.

And they stayed like that the entire day.

....
'No.'
'But Sandor, this could really work-'

'I don't want this woman. Just give that shit to any of the old ones. I'm not using it. That's it.' Sandor stubbornly said.

'But Sandor, the boys took their time to build this. All for you. You can move better. You keep complaining that you sit on bed all day and when we come up with soemthing, you're-'

'Woman! I ain't siting on the stupid chair. Whose fucking idea was this? The one with the arrows? ' He demanded. The boy, Anguy and Diego were suddenly nervous as Sandor's question was directed at them.

Meela was pouting, annoyed with Sandor's behaviour.

It had been nearly 2 months since she found Sandor lying halfway dead on a big rock covered with dirt and blood. Sandor's shoulder had slowly healed while his thigh still needed more time to recover so the healers from the village had insisted that he reduce any exertion or heavy activities.