Bandits : They're Everyone's Problem

The road that stretched on before them was long and, as far as Caterina could see, completely deserted. Not even so much as a dot on the horizon that could have signaled a merchant's caravan or weary traveler; it was all just rocks, dirt, a bit of grass, and forest stretching out on either side of the path (though the trees, at least, were cleared back several paces from the road). The Antivan had understood enough of Ferelden's geography to know that there was not much in the way of civilization on the way to Denerim, what with most people choosing to live in the city, coupled with the constant 'threat' of the relatively near-by Dalish camps, but she had never suspected that it would be this empty.

Her head slumped forward onto her chest as she clutched Bosco's reigns in her hands, huffing out a long and dramatic sigh of air. Her white hair tumbled down her shoulders and covered her face from view, and for a moment, the only movement she made was in the rocking of her hips in time with Bosco's ambling walk. It was nearing dark, and their group had begun to consider camping for the night, and their paces had slowed to match.

"This ride is so dull!" She complained, knowing that it was likely that no one would care for her childish boredom. It was true that she had spent much of the ride trying to think of stories she might share with Sophia - the mage's story from the night previous had inspired her to remember her own - but she'd soon given it up, during the ride at least. She thought best at night, when there were fewer distractions. If anything, her boredom had been the biggest distraction of all - she'd been so focused on it that it had become, in and of itself, something to do.

"Bowen," she whined again, lifting her head to look mournfully over at the Nevarran man riding nearest to her in the group. "I would give my horse for a distraction, right about now." Bosco's ears twitched under her, but she knew it was not at all in response to her comment. Still, the timing served to coax a chuckle forth, so that was good. She patter the black mane in absent thanks.

Bowen laughed softly, but he was as bored as Caterina was.

''We can always play eye spy'' He winked to her, and patted Goliath's strong neck softly. ''Ferelden is this... boring. At least the roads. The forests are better, but the kingdom cut off all the trees near the main roads so merchants would feel safe while using them. You know, merchants are an important people here, as everywhere. If merchants don't feel safe traveling, they'll avoid coming to this kingdom, and the echonomy will go to hell. And that makes a boring landscape but pretty safe for merchants''

Even with his smile, his eyes looked a bit sad for a moment speaking about the merchants.

Caterina frowned, and pretended to look around for a moment before looking sullenly back at Bowen. "I spy something green," she said dryly, pointedly looking back over at the rows upon unending rows of trees lining the road.

"Where is the excitement for the weary traveler?" She complained. "Merchants are not the only ones who travel here." She knew, of course, that it was best to keep the merchants safe - in Antiva, if a merchant wanted it, a merchant got it, whether that be safe roads for traveling, or wider roads for driving multiple carts, to just about anything else under the sun. It was best, but it was also boring. The Dalish drove their caravans through the dangerous woods without fear - why should human travelers have to settle for boring, endless stretches of road? She knew it was a silly question, even before thinking of it.

Maybe she was being unreasonable. Safety was something their own band could do with a bit of, after all. They fought so much - she should appreciate their moments of peace, not wish for more violence. And on some level, she did feel that way. She liked being able to travel with only a little worry in her heart. But, at the same time, the ride to Denerim was very long, and without something to occupy her, she'd likely go crazy from all of it. She considered asking Sophia for a song, but had decided against it. No need to make the mage cater to her whims, just because it might make the ride more bearable.

"I am being a child," she finally admitted, looking at Bowen apologetically. "I apologize. I am fortunate to have company - being on my own would cost me my mind."

"I spy with my little eye/ green and white beneath the sky/ mounted upon a faithful steed/ to take herself away from me..."
One moment, Bosco's rump had been as unburdened as the trackless landscape he had been trotting through. The next... well. A horse doesn't usually expect to suddenly find himself burdened with another few extra pounds of young womanhood, particularly not one who had appeared, apparently out of nowhere, to wrap her arms around his mistress's shoulders and sing nonsense into her ear.
"Don't worry, little warhorse. I'm not here to steal your mistress away from you. After all, I couldn't be able to carry her for long before I collapsed, and then where would I be?" Sophia slipped back into a sitting position, one delicate hand resting on Caterina's shoulder to hold herself steady, the other soothing Bosco's irritated flank. "These two just looked so bored... I thought I would see what I could do to lighten the mood. What do you think, Bosco? Do you forgive me?"
The horse grunted, swatting the mage with his tail. Sophia giggled. "I'll take that as a yes, grudging or not."
It was hard work making tea on one's lap, particularly when you happened to be sitting on a rump that was constantly in motion, but Sophia had mixed brews in less hospitable places over the years. A silver teapot in one hand, warmed through with a light fire spell, whilst her other used the back of Caterina's saddle, Bosco's ever-shifting gait and a few tricky finger-flicks to divide three equal amounts of leaf into matching strainers, plopping them into waiting cups. Watching them carefully to make sure that none of them plummeted to the earth without her permission, the willowy mage spared enough of her attention to treat her companions to one of her brightest smiles.
"Tea?"

Caterina stiffened in surprise as a gentle body was laid into her from behind, and it took all of the restraint in her body to keep herself from turning around sharply, which would undoubtedly have sent her falling off the back of her horse in a spectacular display of a lack of grace. She managed, instead, to hold herself together until, a heartbeat later, the natural recognition set in, and she turned at a much more subdued pace to offer her new riding companion a smile.

"In a moment, you sing words that I could not have dreamed up had I been given an entire day to do so," she mused, her smile bright on her face. She looked back over to Bowen and grinned at the man, giving him a mock haughty look. "In Antiva, a beautiful woman earns poetry from her every admirer. If you are not careful, I may come to expect if from you as well as from our narradora."

That thought reminded her of an incident in her past, and she couldn't help but be amused by it. It brought a smile to her face as she turned slightly to look back at Sophia, intent to tell it (no matter how unrefined a tale it might be), when her eyes widened at what Sophia was doing.

"Tea?" She mimicked, none too intelligently, as Sophia handed her a tiny but beautiful cup. "How - ?" she began, but stopped herself. How it might be possible to brew tea on the back of a horse, Caterina couldn't say, but she wouldn't question it. The storyteller was often the origin of things the Antivan could never hope to explain. She moved one hand off the reigns, reaching around carefully to take the cup, taking cares to move slowly and purposefully. She didn't want to spill hot water onto Bosco's poor back.

"You never fail to amaze me, narradora," she murmured as she looked down at the slightly-colored water, and then took a slow sip. Her eyes widened. "Or impress, it seems. This tea is better than any I have had since stepping into this cold, miserable country, and you made it on the back of a horse." Of all of the things that might have made this freezing country bearable, it might have been a decent cup of tea - unfortunately, they seemed incapable of doing even that right. She pouted, and then looked over at Bowen. "Precioso, try it. Now." She smiled quickly at him, and then returned to the cup in her hand. Making and drinking tea on the backs of horses was certainly more interesting than watching the long and winding road.

But Bowen was looking at them with a strange face. Was it his imagination, or Sophia was flirting with Caterina? He was too old for this, too old for jealous games, but he couldn't help it. He was tired of pretending, playing and pretending again, and was not in the mood.

''No, thanks. I think I'll... go somewhere else so you can talk''He muttered, still looking puzzled, and made Goliath go to the rear of the group, feeling a sad weight upon his chest

The Antivan assassin tilted her head to the side as her eyebrows drew together, her jaw loosening as if she were about to say something, but then, Goliath fell back, and it was like someone had suddenly squeezed at her heart and throat. She made a slightly choked sound, like she was trying to protest but couldn't. What - what had happened? she thought furiously, and then - why am I acting this way. Of course he might want to get away from the nonsensical chatter of women. I should not have expected him to want to listen to my own silly words. Perhaps he only needs a rest. Thoughts came rapid fire to her head, and she desperately searched for one that would make the sudden aching in her chest go away. She looked back at Sophia, as if they mage could somehow explain to her to she might have done to offend Bowen so that she might apologize.

For a few, stunned moments, she rode one. Then, abruptly, she pulled back on the reigns in her hand. Bosco snorted in complaint at the sudden stop, but stop he did, whickering his feet at the ground impatiently. Quickly, she turned, her eyebrows drawn down, and carefully handed Sophia's tea back.

"A moment, narradora. I must speak with him, to see what I have done wrong." It seemed silly - like some childhood thing. In the adult world, people weren't so eager to apologize and make up. At least, she certainly had been. But with the people of the camp - with Bowen - any wrong done would need to resolved. She did not want to alienate any of them - they were her friends. Her mind hitched on the word as her eyes flicked over to Bowen, and then she deftly slid off Bosco's back, landing with a quiet thud on the ground. "Watch him, por favor. Bosco does not like to be lonely." She looked up at the horse and his current rider sadly without knowing why, and then turned her head. If she walked back to where Bowen and Goliath were, she would be able to talk to Nevarran man alone. She needed to ask if it was indeed hurt in his voice that she had heard, and then, what offense she might have given to put it there. She walked woodenly, quick and with a purpose, towards where the massive Goliath was ambling. Bosco was several yards away from her now, and now she felt just the tiniest bit alone, walking in the deadspace between the two horses.

And then an arrow buried itself in her thigh.

The pain was delayed, almost. For the briefest of moments, barely the span of a heartbeat, Caterina looked at the shaft in her leg with some measure of confusion. And then, agony blossomed within her, and she doubled over even though that made it hurt worse. Over the pumping of blood in her ears, she couldn't even hear the sound of whoops and yells as a gang of men - two dozen or so strong - burst forth from the very boring line of trees by the side of the road, and headed straight for their party with their swords and bows brandished.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stupid old, OLD man. What did you expect? That someone so young, so precious, so beautiful like her would like you for real? Stupid and tired man I am. I just cannot stand to loose someone again, I just can't, I'm certain it would kill me. I'm too old for this...

And then he heard the arrow, and turned just in time to see the dart burying itself in Caterina's thigh, who had been following him. Bowen's dark green eyes went wide in disbelief, horrified noticing that she had been hurt because of him. His fault again. It was always his fault. Gunnar lost half his arm, his father-in-law lost his wife, he lost his wife and then it was happening again.

''Caterina!'' The Nevarran yelled, and snarled furiously while watching the tiny band of bandits that were running against them. Foolish bastards.

He could see Calliara's arrows like rain upon them, and some of them falling while running, but it was not important, nothing was more important in that moment than keeping Caterina safe from that.

Goliath rushed to her side, and the warrior almost jumped down the stallion to lift the Antivan girl in his arms, covering her with his own body from the arrows the bandits were firing as well. The stallion ran aside with his order, and Bowen stood there, with Caterina in his arms and covering her.

Calliara had been in the rear that time with Drake, fighting with her sleepy mood. Again, she hadn't slept well, but last nights had been worse. There was something strange though, and she muttered

''No chirping. Birds are not chirping.''

That meant something was wrong, and she woke up fully. In a second she had her bow in her hands while trying to understand what was wrong. She saw Bowen riding back to the rear with a face she hadn't seen in months... The Nevarran looked almost desperate and hurt, but she didn't had time to ask him what was wrong.

Movement in the line of trees. Danger

''Watch out!'' But it was late. The Dalish barely saw the arrow hurting Caterina, she was already shooting her own arrows

She should have expected it, to be honest. Sophia sighed ruefully, glancing down at Bosco, who whickered and shrugged- well, she would have liked it if he had shrugged. The hurt on Bowen's face had been all too apparent: did he think her a rival? Foolish old man. If only he could look past the obvious. Sophia had seen the way Caterina had snuggled close to him whilst she was telling her stories, had witnessed the shock in her eyes moments before she handed back her teacup to chase after him. Caterina's mind was already made up, even if Sophia indulged in the occassional bit of flirting. And what was a bit of flirting between friends? That was all they were. All they could be. Friends. Just. Friends...

Did she want it to be more?

For a moment or two, Sophia's smile flickered, shrunk, and faded away altogether. She had loved her last night, wide-eyed, immersed in the stories woven around her. Did she want that to continue...?

Bosco's panicked whinny was all the warning she received. The arrow, the bandits, Bowen's cry, came one after the other, almost too fast to fathom. What was wrong with Caterina? Why was Bowen scooping her up like that? Twenty four men? She would need to stand her own two feet if she were to move, to fight-
But she couldn't. Why couldn't she? Was Caterina hurt? Don't let her be hurt. Please don't let her be hurt. But there was blood staining the assassin's leggings, the barb still buried deep in her thigh.
Deep within Sophia's chest, something snapped.
click-click-click...
Placing the teacups gently on the ground. Whispering to Bosco to stay where he was. Mechanical, detached things, actions that had to be taken but that were unimportant. Burning blue eyes fixed on the dirty men barreling down the hill towards them. They had dared to touch her? Caterina's story wasn't their property. It was hers. Her own. THAT was why she was so angry, no other reason for the rage that urged her forward to crush, maim, torture for DARING to-
Biting savagely down on her own lip, Sophia pulled herself back to the present. Bowen was a seasoned fighter (covered by Calliara's arrows, flying, spearing through the throats of one-two-three bandits), but she was the only one close enough who could treat Caterina's wound, with the touch of magic at least. And with the threat of these brutes looming, magic was the only option: they needed every blade they could get, which meant getting Caterina back on her feet. Such a dilemma...
In the end, Sophia settled on a compromise. Wrapping herself in an arcane shroud, Sophia dashed across the bandit's line of fire, shimmering in and out of focus to avoid the worst of the arrows. A lucky barb slashed her neck: ignoring it, she drew level with Bowen, spreading her fingers. Fade-sparks snapped, drawing a globe of azure force around the trio against which arrows shattered harmlessly. They had a few moments.
"Bowen... you and I have to talk once this annoyance has passed, but whilst we have a moment, maybe you could remove the shaft? I can close the wound, but you must be swift." A quick smile. "We are all allies here, are we not?"

Caterina's breath hitched in her throat as she was scooped up by Bowen, the hurt in her leg stretching painfully even as she tried to ignore it. She grit her teeth so hard that she thought she might end up grounding them down all the way, and her hand found its way to her leg to cradle the wound, even though it would do her no good. Then, another set of hands were on her, and she felt safe, between the two of them - like a child when mother and father both come to the rescue. She shook that out of her head immediately - it was foolish to feel anything like 'safe' this close to a battlefield.

"Do not," she grunted out, "worry about me. I will live - it is only in my leg." It took more energy than she thought it would have, to say that. "Deal with the men. I can't trow any daggers from here with you two hovering like worried hens." How could she have thought that this would be better than an ambling ride along the road. The pain in her leg wasn't better - even the stab of worry that had enveloped her only a minute before wasn't as bad as this. Then, at least, Sophia and Bowen and Calliara and everyone had been safe.

"Please," she tried, looking up at Bowen and then at Sophia, their faces so different from each other but both leaps and bounds better than staring at her bleeding leg. "It's more dangerous to sit here in the middle of the field. Bowen, if can help me move over there," she nodded her head towards Bosco, "then you can rejoin the fight, and I can lean against Bosco, to keep myself off my leg. Mi precioso, mi narradorra, please."

''You and I don't have anything to talk about'' The Nevarran huffed, still protecting Caterina. It wasn't that he didn't liked Sophia, but of course he liked Caterina more than anything and anyone, and he was terrified in that very moment.

It had been his fault.

Again

He felt miserable while quickly carrying Caterina with Bosco, and once they were there, and being sure that Sophia was watching, Bowen kissed the Antivan rogue deeply, forcefully and even a bit harder than other times, but he meant it. Maker, but how he meant it. All his desperation, fear and hopes were in that kiss in that brief moment.

Then he covered her with his shield and growled something to her ear that sounded like IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou and left her just like that, without his helmet and just with his sword in his hand, furious, and went to join the others who were fighting the bandits

Caterina barely had time to open her mouth before Bowen was off again. She could feel her face heating from the blood loss, though it might have been from the kiss and - she shook her head, something akin to panic rising in her eyes as she struggled to stand. She leaned one arm heavily on Bosco's side, and dragged the shield up as high as she could so that it wouldn't fall when she let go of it. It was nearly as heavy as she was, it seemed, and she had to practically wrap her arm around it to drag in into even a relatively stable position. Stupid Bowen, she thought, without any real angery - he needed his shield. He should have taken it with him.

She was far from content to let everyone else fight while she did nothing. Pulling a dagger from her leg-holster, Caterina threw it with as much strength as she could muster at the closest Bandit (who wasn't all that close, but it was the best she could do). It arced a little more than she'd wanted it to, but it hit near its mark, all the same. The Bandits wore light armor, with plenty of openings for her daggers to hit, so even when she'd been aiming for the neck, hitting the man's shoulder close enough, for her in this condition. She smiled ruefully as the man screamed, clutching at the dagger that had landed a little too close for his comfort. His distraction allowed one of Calliara's arrows to land their mark, and the man fell.

Well, at least she was doing something.

Her eyes turned to the field as she drew another dagger. Bowen and Sophia were doing well, though both were fighting more tensely than she'd seen them. She supposed having to take her dead-weight into account would be frustrating, in a fight. Still, twenty four men had already been reduced by a good amount, so besides her leg-wound, she didn't foresee anything else going wrong. They had fought darkspawn bands larger than this in the past - some bandits looking for easy prey were going to get more than they'd bargained for. The irony was beautiful.

Bosco neighed shrilly as an enemy arrow flew past his field of vision, burrowing in the earth just in front of him. Caterina cursed as he bucked and moved away, causing her to fall rather ungracefully on her rump. In the best stroke of luck she'd had all day, an arrow that had been coming at her deflected off of Bowen's shield as it fell with her, and she quickly scrambled back with her arms and good leg to get out from under it. The archer who'd fired the arrows at her and Bosco was coming at her, then. Naturally, she thought bitterly as she quickly stood even as her right leg buckled underneath her, they would go for the wounded party member. At least, with his bow, it would take him a moment to actually aim and fire at her.

She didn't expect the man who'd come from behind her, though. If the archer had been a distraction, he'd been a good one. A rough hand grabbed her arm from behind, and just as she wrenched it out of his grasp, his other hand tangled in her hair, stopping her from moving away. She couldn't even turn to growl angrily at him.

But an enemy's idiocy was one of her greatest weapons. The man who'd grabbed her laughed, and turned his head to look at the archer who'd been advancing on her. While he was distracted, Caterina grabbed another dagger from her holster, and just barely had time to hear the man say something that included the words "use" and "bait" before she stomped on his insole with as much strength as she had in her.

The man cursed and swore, but it hadn't been enough for him to let go of his hold on her hair (she wasn't surprised - she'd had to kick with her good leg, and the kick's power had been lost because it hurt to balance on her hurt leg). In fact, kicking him had only caused him to jerk her head back as he doubled over shallowly. She kicked at him again, but this time he only had to move his foot back to avoid it.

"Now listen here, girl, just stop that an-"

Caterina cut her dagger through her hair.

The man froze as she stumbled forward, out of his grasp. She instinctively caught herself on her forward leg, but it still hurt damnit, and she stumbled to the ground. She had the sense, at least, to duck into a roll, and came out of it to glare at him from a few feet away. At least she had the satisfaction of watching him stand dumbfounded. It was a small consolation - she didn't let herself think about what had happened, or what she was doing. She threw her dagger at the man, who caught it expertly - in the chest. He stagger back and then crumpled to the ground, and she stumbled into another crouch to turn and look for the archer that had been standing near her.

And the archer was falling in that moment, his throat bleeding with a not so pretty cut, and a silent Dalish standing right there behind him. Like the wolf she was named sometimes, she moved in absolute silence.

Calliara studied Caterina with hard, iced eyes, and then turned her head to look at Bowen, his tense shoulders and his rudeness, he was being more rude than usual.

The Dalish looked again at Caterina, her blue eyes soft and caring now, and crouched beside her to see her wound.

''Some of them are running away, it seems they realized we're more than they can bite'' She touched lightly the arrow, and grabbed carefully the shaft ''Hold onto me, honey, this will hurt a bit, but I promise I'll be quick. It's not as worse as it looks''

The blood that came from the archer obscured her vision of the battlefield, a moment, and Caterina stared dazedly as Calliara approached her. She nodded dumbly as the elf knelt gracefully beside her, then turned her eyes to look back over the field. It was true that the remaining men were running off - it wouldn't do any good to pursue them, she concluded. With their entire band, they had failed - coming back with the few men they had left would be tantamount to suicide. If everyone else was safe, then they had won this battle.

She turned her head back to Calliara and nodded pathetically, like a child, then squeezed her eyes as tightly shut as she could manage and leaned her head forward to rest on Calliara's shoulder - making sure to give the elf free enough room to get to the arrow shaft - and clenched her fists so hard that she could feel her nails cutting into her palms. Bowen, Sofia, Calliara - they were all much kinder to her than she was used to, than she deserved.

She sucked in a breath as she prepared herself, and then asked quickly "Where is Bowen? I had his shield." Speaking would take her mind off of Calliara's nimble fingers adjusting around the arrow at her leg . . .

''He looks like he is going to run after those bandits to the Anderfels'' The Dalish answered calmly, holding sweetly the rogue to her chest. ''He looks mad, really really mad, at this moment. I rarely had seen him this way but...''

Suddenly she pulled the arrow off of Caterina's thigh, with a swift and quick motion, and she continued talking while pressing the wound so it won't bleed more

''... I think you can give him his shield back when we're done here. I don't think he'll leave you alone''

Calliara looked around, searching for Jez or some other mage to heal the rogue and running her fingers through Caterina's now shorter hair absently

''I also think he will have a heart attack when he sees you hair. We'll have to fix it later, honey''

... over? It was over, just like that?
Sophia swayed on the spot, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. One moment, she had been guarding her friends, the next...
Rebuffed. Rebuked. Rejected. Abandoned. And forced to watch as Bowen (there was no other way to describe it,) claimed his property. He had done it on purpose, she knew he had. A punch in the gut? No, worse, much worse. A knife, or a sword. Perhaps even the edges of her own ribbons. Bowen had the bandits on the run. Calliara had extracted the arrow. She was nothing but an extra.
Sophia turned on her heel, stalking onwards up the road. Never mind. What did it matter? They hadn't asked for her company or her help. It had just been a rag-tag motley of vicious dogs, dogs that had bitten the lovely girl and dogs that had then been destroyed as such dogs always were. If she had left them to ride alone, she would never have witnessed it, and she would have lost nothing from it.

... then again. If she had left them to ride alone, her presence might never had provoked Bowen into kissing Caterina in the first place. This could only strengthen their relationship, heal his insecurities. It was for the best. Only for the best.

"Then why do you feel like crying?"

I can't be jealous. I won't be jealous. This is nothing more then a foolish infatuation. It will pass.

... but as she passed, she couldn't help but check. Look over Caterina's wound... no, it would heal. And what what had she done to her...?
The sight shattered Sophia's stony expression, transforming it into a gale of delighted laughter.
"I think the shorter cut looks wonderful on you."

Caterina shuddered into Calliara as she pulled the arrow from her leg, and then she went blissfully limp. It still hurt - Maker it hurt - but there was no longer the foreign feeling of wood piercing her leg. Now it was all just blood and torn flesh. She could deal with that.

"Thank you," she said weakly. "Thank you." She lifted an arm to push herself off of the white-haired elf, sitting back gently on her haunches. She swallowed hard as it twinged despite the care she took, but soon it settled. She moved her hand to replace Calliara's in stemming back the flow of blood from it. She paused a moment to tear at her already torn leggings, and balled the fabric up to press it to the wound. There. Not better, but it would do.

"I hope he has not hurt himself," she muttered, and a dark looked flashed before her eyes until she shook it away, and looked up at Calliara. "I hope none of you have hurt yourselves. I was stupid to have not noticed the arrow, and my injury cost everyone some vital moments of battle." It was easy to turn to tactics when she was feeling so exhausted now. Her body was shaking from left over adrenaline and pain, and she just wanted to lie down and be sung to and fall asleep.

Absently, her free hand made its way to to tug at her now drastically shortened hair. She smiled ruefully, and huffed. "I never liked it long anyway," she lied. "I didn't know what I was doing. I just did it." That was true, at least. It had worked, though. She'd have arrows in more serious places than her leg if she hadn't gotten loose when she did. "If you could clean it up . . . I would like that very much. Thank you." There was no sense in letting it stay choppy - it would only make it look uglier on her.

Her head snapped up when delicate footsteps signaled the arrival of another. She smiled before she'd looked up, really, at who she knew was coming.

"Oh?" She laughed, though it was a dry and forced sound. She's wanted to try for a light sound, at least - Sophia and Calliara deserved that much. "Perhaps I should have cut it long ago, if it looks good. Then that bastardo could not have held me by it." She said it casually - with a hint of humor, even - and went to toss her hair as she usually did before she stopped. Well, that would just look silly with short hair. "I will have to get used to this," she muttered under her breath.

Looking between the two woman, she ducked her head in embarrassment, and then glanced back up. "If I might . . . ask a hand? It will be difficult to stand on my own." The sooner she was standing, the sooner someone could bandage or heal her leg, and the sooner she would stop feeling utterly useless.

Bowen appeared again from nowhere, amazingly fast for a guy wearing full plate, and kneeled beside Caterina to check her wound. Calliara put her hand on his head and that seemed to have a soothing effect on him, so his shoulders became less tense, but his face was still puzzled, worried and deadly hurt.

''Does it hurt? Are you alright??''

At first he didn't notice her hair. In fact, he was only worried if she was badly hurt, if she was in pain, if she would forgive him for being such an idiot and such a pest, and the relief of seeing her alive was too much, too much.

"If I might . . . ask a hand? It will be difficult to stand on my own."

The Nevarran lifted her in his arms without a word. He wasn't sure what to say or what to do, though, but he needed to feel her, feel that she was alright, and now that meant looking for someone to heal her.

Caterina was braced in Bowen's arms: that was all she needed. A softly-muttered spell, a brief brush of her fingers against the Antivan's bloody thigh, and the Fade ran its course, pulling muscle and skin together as if it had never been broken.
"Jezarine should still see her. The wound is closed, but not completely healed: it may re-open if it is not rested. I know that much about the art of Restoration." Sophia smiled, her eyes sparkling playfully. "She's alive, so get rid of that silly expression. You have nothing to be ashamed of. And if you think you do, perhaps the two of you need to have a nice, long talk. On horseback, perhaps... and I promise that this time, there will be no impromptu tea parties. Just you, the road, and some nice, boring conversation." She paused. "... though I agree with Calliara... someone should really trim your hair, Caterina. Perhaps in Denerim? I hear you can buy almost anything there..."
Turning on her heel, Sophia trotted off up the road, already seemingly lost in her own thoughts.

One thought in particular.

By now, Caterina was spent. She was tired and shaking and her leg hurt and she no longer had the energy to deal with whatever conversation she might have been planning to have with Bowen. Right now, she'd praise the Maker if only she could sleep.

She turned her head into Bowen's shoulder, and smile slightly as the flesh of her leg knitted together again, stemming off much of the pain. Thank you, narradora, she tried to mutter, but only successfully said in her mind. She might have hummed something contentedly, however, so that might have gotten her point across.

"Precioso," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Her eyes stayed closed even when she wanted to open them to look up at the Nevarran man. "I want to go to sleep." She didn't want to ride a horse, she didn't want to be carried - being set down to sleep in front of a fire was something she would have paid a thousand sovereigns to get, right now. If she was suffering from blood loss, or whatever other affliction, then sleep would help her to get better soon. And she wanted Bowen and Calliara and Sophia and her friends to be there, because they would keep the Bandits away. And maybe Sophia and Calliara could fuss over her hair and make it pretty for her.


[Crappy short post before running out to school. Sorry for poor quality.]

He had been watching the group for weeks, unnoticed, unmoving. Every time they made camp again, he found a new perch to watch from, blended in to the grasses, or in the branches of a tree. It was time, the whispers in his head said to him. Time to reveal yourself. He dropped down from a nearby tree and pulled his hood over his head, concealing his face. The craggy gray skin, the wide mouth with the sharp teeth, the bloodshot golden eyes with black instead of where whites should be. He was clothed in forest garb, greens and browns that broke up his shape in the forest.

He had been patient. So very patient. Now was the time to see if the Warden-Commander could be made to see reason. As he walked up to them, he lifted his hands to show he was unarmed, his bow was slung across his back, and his sword at his hip but he did not draw them. They had just fought bandit humans. They would be jumpy. If The Father was correct, the Wardens among them would not have been able to sense him.

It was a long time since he was freed from the song. Months. The Blight was ended and The Father found him, and severed him from the song. He was free now. He had a name now.

He was The Shadow.

"Be not fearing me. I am meaning no harm." he said in his hissing, just barely over a whisper voice, with an accent strange to everyone. He and the others who were recently freed were only just learning how to speak, after all. "This one be seeking the one called Warden-Commander, yes yes."

With the first sound, Calliara's bow was ready. When the... thing finished talking she just stared at him, amazed that the creature could just walked around them without sensing it.

Bowen was already walking away with Caterina, so she just had Sophia close to her.

''Go and get the Commander'' The Dalish said firmly to the mage, eyes still fixed on the Shadow ''Tell the Commander we have an unexpected visitor''

Nygozy was sitting on a blanket not far from the a camp fire watching Torture and his little friend play fight. She smiled half heartedly as she watched them. Their group had arrived at their determined campsite without problems earlier than Calliara's team and she was now doing paperwork, sort of, while the others set up camp.

"The pup will be a good fighter when he grows up." Said her own shadow who was unseen very close to her.

"Fenrir will be." She answered non-commitally.

"You are upset."

"Yes." The woman admitted, "This won't be easy."

A hand touched hers and Kai was suddenly beside her, sitting crosslegged, "I will be with you, Hero."

"It will still hurt."

"You will pervail. It is in your nature to weather storms." He smiled for less than a second as Fenrir actually got a surprise attack on Torture.

Nygozy looked off into the distance towards Denerim, "I hope you are right. Demons and Darkspawn are easy."

"You will pervail, Hero. I have faith in you." He said just before he melded into the shadows, a sure indication that someone was on their way and he was making sure he had complete advantage over them.

Calliara's orders washed over abandoned road: the willowy mage had already vanished, skipping between Dreams and reality as she hurled herself back to the campsite. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on: there was only so much that even a flexible mind could deal with, and hers was beginning to fray around the edges. That voice... a shape in the darkness that not even the Wardens had sensed. She had been a shadow in dreams and stories, but this creature...
Oh, how she wanted to say that she had seen him where the Wardens had not. A golden eye, watching from the dappled protection of the forest, or a shade whipping out of sight whilst they had been occupied with other concerns: eating some of Garrol's abominable cooking, perhaps? But she had been as blind as the rest of them. The smile stretched.

How intoxicating. This being could not be allowed to be destroyed out of hand. Why destroy something so beautiful?

"Mistress?"

This time, her landing was perfect. A bounce off the remains of a decaying nightmare sketched her neatly into existence just as Kai vanished from it, leaving her seemingly alone with the woman she had silently sworn to obey. Curtsey, Sophia. Remember the way Kai stared at you when you first appeared out of nowhere. Don't give his hatred reason to disembowel you before you deliver your message.

"We have a visitor..."

Now, now. Don't spoil the surprise.

"... a unique visitor. Please, follow me." Sophia turned on her heel, holding out a hand as she led, almost as if she expected the Warden-Commander to take it.

"And Mistress? If I may... no matter what you see, please. Leave your weapons sheathed, both you and your shadow. Listen, no matter what your eyes may tell you."