"You get any closer to that fire, and you just might go up in flames."
Varric sauntered over to the fireplace and sat down beside me. Haven was high in the mountains and freezing. I was yet to spend a day in the Inquisition camp without snow. I pulled coats tighter against my shoulders.
"Reckon you've got enough coats, there?"
"I've only got three," I smiled. "I'll take another if your offering."
He shook his head.
"Ah, you'll get used to it."
"Let's hope so."
The wind had died down as the sun set. I should have been pleased about the break in weather but I wasn't. The sky had cleared and there were no clouds to obscure the mark in the sky. It was discomforting to look at. An instinct that I didn't know I had – somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach – told me that it shouldn't be, and I avoided looking at it as much as I could. But with the clouds gone, its otherworldly glow radiated from the mountain top, even in the dark.
Varric cleared his throat. "Now that Cassandra's out of earshot…" he began. "How are you holding up? I mean, you go from most hated criminal to Herald of the faithful." Varric chuckled. "Most people would spread that out over more than one day."
I glanced over and gave him a wry smile. "I like to stay busy."