She dreamed of wolves.

Black-furred, sad-eyed wolves that smelled of ash and regret. Upon the gentle winter breeze that pushed her tenderly forward there were words she did not understand, they whispered things that made her eyes brim with tears. But Lavellan, sweet Lavellan, knew her heart's kindness when it bore itself to her no matter how bittersweet. The lack of an arm ached yet it was numb; a grim reminder of what her heart felt for a man who was there and then was not.

But in these dreams, if even for a moment, the bright-eyed Inquisitor could feel his presence. She could smell him upon the winter winds of her dreams and through the trees of the clearing a set of eyes watched her. There were times she would try to call out to him but her tongue was heavy, there were times she tried to run to him but the snow was too dense. And other times she would only watch and try to make the moment last for in the end the woman knew just how fleeting it was. It was like a final kiss upon lover's lips and she savored the moment to it's fullest.

In time's that she dreamed of him this sadness was none other than her own for she knew better than to let her heart linger upon something so futile. A wounded heart is a stubborn one though, it bled and bled until there was nothing more. It overflowed with love and drowned itself with it's own willful nature. Somewhere within the thick trees, across all the snow and the distance, she could feel his heart and it ached too. It made Lavellan smile and mouth words with a heavy tongue. "I love you, Solas," she would whisper. "I love you and I will always love you."

There were other times though that the stubborn heart made her mad enough to fight against the snow. With one heavy foot after another her heart would burn and the tears would sting at her eyes as she forced herself against the dreams. The wolf would watch her and she would watch him, determined to make her way across far lands to reach the man she had loved. The smell of ash lingered and the gentle winds became stronger; she was sure it was her Dread Wolf making sure his heart was not answered.

Only once had she been able to make it across and with the voices upon the winds becoming stronger she shouted to him. The tongue was not her own and her heart ached worse than any times before, it was something bitter yet it was the sweetest thing that had ever graced tender Lavellan. This was love, it made you angry and it made you mad but it always made sure you knew that the other mattered. The Black wolf was still this time and she fell to her knees as the gentle winds were cruel and the voices were loud. Within the heart of this storm the wolf only watched, a sentinel of sorrow. But he was there, she could almost touch him, with outstretched fingers she could feel the bristles of the black fu-

And then it was gone.

Just like that, just like the times she stood silent in the snowy meadow only watching she would wake with an aching heart and a ghost limb reminding her of what was no longer there. Each time her eyes would well and her heart would beat heavily against the walls of her chest. The silence was louder than any voices, the warmth of the fire was lonelier than any cold, for she had him at least one more time before she did not. Lavellan looked to the great flames and the fire sparkled with a certain glint that reminded her of her Fen'Harel. It reminded him of her eyes and how they would shimmer when he spoke of the Fade, his greatest love.

"I love you, Solas," she would whisper in these silences, something that mostly reminded her heart that she did. "I love you and I will find you."