After a battle gone wrong, the Hound was taken in by a community. Your community.

He didn't fit in well at first, considering the reputation he had. But he was quickly seen as helpful by the people.

He had the strength of multiple men, and if any trouble came he was back to what he was. A guard dog.

You had taken notice to him, of course. In your small hamlet it would have been absurd not to notice him.

You weren't sure how he felt about you. You did not seem remarkable, like the nobles of the life he left behind. And yet sometimes he would still gaze upon you anyway.

One day, you were tasked with carrying sacks of grain back home. Heavy things that you were already dreading having to make multiple trips for.

As you struggled to heave one over your shoulders, you heard a gruff voice call from behind you.

"I've got it." It was Sandor. And before you could speak, he loaded the rest of the sacks on his shoulders, already walking in the direction of your family's home.