The hurlock alpha was charging straight for her, no doubt about it. Three of her arrows bristled from its shoulder, and it had howled, turning, and fixed her with its baleful eyes. Charlotte glanced around, assessing the situation. Oghren battled three darkspawn to her right, bawling curses at them as he swung his giant axe. Two other genlocks were engaged with Alistair, whose taunts and threatening had driven them into a blind rage. He couldn't hold the attention of the alpha after her arrows had stung it, despite his shouts and blows with his shield. Wynne was behind and to her left, alone for now, chanting the spells that kept gave them strength to endure the long battles. There were loose rocks to the right, she noticed, and some roots behind. Tricky footing, but it could be used to her advantage.
The hurlock paused mere feet from her to bellow and she let her gaze flicker over it. Her training, instinctual now, showed her its weaknesses and how to exploit them.
"Big sword," she thought as she threw down her bow and drew her daggers, "so it's very slow but very damaging. Don't get hit; that's easy enough, right?" She held the long knives loosely, feeling the heat from the rune folded into the one in her right hand, and the tingle of electricity from the one in her left.
The darkspawn swung its greatsword in a wide arc, but she dodged lightly and circled behind it as the blade bit deep into the earth where she had been standing. Her sharp eyes picked out places where the joints of its armor didn't close completely, places of wear and decay. Her daggers flashed out and stabbed deep under the bottom of the hurlock's cuirass, biting into the unprotected flesh beneath.
The creature roared in pain and swung its arm at her, trying to gouge at her with its wicked spiked vambrace. Charlotte dodged again, ducking under the arm and driving her dagger into the hurlock's armpit. She almost lost her grip on the knife as hot blood gushed out and the darkspawn tried to wrench away from the contact.
Daggers held out and ready, she circled around the darkspawn as it hefted its sword again. It was growling menacingly now, panting and bleeding, but the fight was not yet over. Charlotte stepped toward it quickly before it could raise the sword to swing at her. She bent down, scooped up a handful of dirt, and flung it into the monster's face. It hesitated, blinded, and she lashed out with her foot and kicked it hard in the knee, and the darkspawn went down roaring.
She danced back again, light on her feet though sweating and growing tired, out of the range of its grasping hands. Before the hurlock could regain its feet, she lunged in again, her daggers barely more than a blur. It staggered up, snarling in pain and anger, and as she sank her knives into the twisted flesh of its neck, brought the heavy pommel of its greatsword down on her shoulder. The blow stunned her for a moment with the force that had been behind it. The nerves of her fingers went dead and she dropped one of her daggers. The darkspawn, blood pouring from its throat, staggered again and fell, but Charlotte could not recover from the last injury it had inflicted upon her.
She shook her head, trying to clear it, but the fight had drained too much from her. She waited to feel the relief of Wynne's spell, but it did not come.
"One of the others must need her more than I," she thought, dropping to her knees on the bloody grass. "I hope they will be alright." Quietly, she sank down into darkness.
"Up, Warden, by the sodding stone." Oghren's growl of a voice came to her from the haze. She felt pinpricks all over her body as Wynne's healing magic washed over her.
Opening her eyes, she looked up at Oghren, who stood above her, his axe covered in gore. He reached out one hand and grasped the neck of her armor.
"Get up, damn you," he swore, trying to haul her to her feet. "The fight's not sodding done yet."
"Go help," she said weakly, unable to rise any further than her knees, and he did, running across the field to where Alistair still battled the darkspawn. She waited on her hands and knees with her head lowered until the world decided to stop spinning and the grey mist cleared from her vision.
After a few long moments, a pair of boots appeared in her field of vision.
"Are you alright?" Alistair's voice was full of concern as he held out a hand to help her up.
She took the proffered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Her head spun sickeningly and she reeled, falling against Alistair. He caught her easily around the waist.
"Sorry," she mumbled, raising her hands to push herself away from him. When she placed them on his shoulders to right herself, he didn't release her.
"You should be more careful," he scolded softly.
"Why… why are you looking at me like that?" She was confused, dizzy still from her injuries, and unsure why he held her so closely. It was true, they had flirted many times before, but he had never tried to embrace or kiss her like the other boys she had flirted with growing up in Highever.
His arms tightened around her waist and a slow blush crept across his cheeks. He met her grey eyes for a moment before dropping his gaze to her lips. He opened his mouth as if to speak again but did not.
"He's going to kiss me," she thought wildly. "Here, covered in blood, surrounded by corpses, in front of everyone." Alistair leaned forward and her arms went from his shoulders to around his neck.
"So we live to fight another day, eh Warden?" Suddenly, Charlotte was jolted sideway by Oghren as he passed by. The dwarf, walking up from behind, had slapped her shoulder hard in camaraderie.
"Indeed," muttered Alistair as he let go of her. They both felt it; the moment was ruined. Charlotte shot a small apologetic smile at Alistair as they parted.
"What'd I do?" Oghren asked Wynne incredulously. The mage was glaring at him hard, shaking her head. He kicked a genlock's body out of his way as he walked past.
"Live to fight another day…" Charlotte repeated softly.