[[While I own a copy of Dragon Age, I don't own the Dragon Age franchise, or the characters. This is set in a Universe where Mahariel is about 5 years younger than Tamlen, rather than the same age as him. She is 10 years old here. This was inspired by Cammen's quest, funnily enough, where he says he must kill a beast in order to become a fully-fledged hunter (Or an adult, by Dalish standards). I hope you like it!]]
I crept out into the forest, day had just begun to break. It was a perfectly clear, beams scattering clouds. Disquiet of the air followed me with a tranquil disturbance. The arrows at my back made soft clicking noises, my clothes remained motionless. There was no wind to speak of, no rustle of the leaves. Even the trees, down to their roots, were lying in wait for me to claim my prize. I saw my desire as I neared the end of our camp - a lone wolf cub, drinking from the river. His muzzle was white, untainted by blood, whining softly. Perhaps he had lost his mother. Perhaps he was hungry. I didn't know. Nor did I care. If silence had existed before now, I had not known it. The ever-moving earth felt suddenly still, an arrow was drawn back, the bow pulled taut.
As the sun anointed my cheeks.
I fired. My arrow flew, it struck, embedding itself in the cubs leg. Whimpers and cries shattered the archetype scene. My brow furrowed in confusion, "what was this?" This blood, this unromantic spatter of dribbling red, the fiendish cries of distress being uttered from the cub - shattering my romantic notions of death.
The bow dropped to the ground, as blackness over took. The hero-game hadn't stopped. No. It had just become a different kind of game. A terrifying one.
It went on, and on, and on, and suddenly I was five-hundred miles from home and lost, because I couldn't be brave forever. The darkness was inside of me. I couldn't think, I couldn't move. Everything was drowned by the scream of the wolf. The scream went on and on, and it was coming out of me. This lone child shook from within herself, to the very marrow if her bone - the final death blow had not come, nor should it be necessary. The red-spattered muzzle of the wolf loomed closer, out of the blackness. I felt a hand upon my shoulder, a brother's... a friend's. There retains cold knowledge. Grim indifference in those eyes. "Halam na Shiral."
I fired again, my arrow found it's desired mark; the once-white muzzle of the dog. The animal managed one last, one-eyed look at me. One eye was closed in anguish. I saw it in a wisdom I didn't understand - the animal was accepting! Accepting despite it's young age, its knowledge of what was to come, accepting of my cruelty. Mocking it, even.
I watched its blood-stained body falling to the ground, as if in slow motion. My eyes closed and I and wept for Mahariel, her own muzzle covered with allegorical blood. Even if my long-range bow helped me avoid the spatter, Mahariel's (my) mind was not spared. My knees were knocked out of me as brother Tamlen lifted me, I didn't know if they could stand a moment more. Emotions disarmed me as I wept, for the journey I had ended, and begun.