Artana
"We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit."
"Get away from that mirror, Tamlen!" Artana shrieked, backing up a step or two. She caught the heel of her left boot with her right toe and fell backwards before the mirror filled the room with a radiance of its vile taint.
Things... were fuzzy from that point. She had found her way to sunlight, somehow. The Keeper – that became an objective in her dimmed mind, to find the Keeper so the clan could know what happened, to save herself and Tamlen. But why had she left Tamlen? How did she even get back out here...? It became apparent to her that she was on her stomach when her hand brushed across a rock in the dust, blood caking some of it red in the fingertip swipes that cut through the loose earth. Her blurred eyes searched for a larger rock to support herself with, to check for moss. If she could get her bearings she would remember the rest of the path on her way. Her body was weak, but at the same time strong. Her legs would work, she realized, if she could ignore the pain. Maybe that was why she left Tamlen. She'd reach the keeper faster alone, and thus be back quicker to help him.
Her hands kept groping half-blindly at the ground 'til she rooted out the base of a large rock. The cool stone felt like ice on her fevered skin. As she climbed her whole body pressed against it for support and she stayed as such for a short time, allowing some of the sickness to be pulled away by the cold. With her eyes closed she felt about the stone, knowing her vision was unnecessary for this task, and it could be reserved. She felt moss, and opened her eyes to get the bearing. Yes, that path did look familiar.
With a deep, strengthening breath Artana pushed away from the stone. On her own two feet the world spun. She staggered like a drunk, towards the tree she'd marked as her directional. At least, she thought it was. The world was spinning.
She walked for hours, but the time eluded her. The fevered mind was delusional, images of dark figures haunting her own eyes that disappeared when she blinked, strange noises in her ears that did not come of forest nor shemlen. Surely the camp would be just beyond that turn. Surely the Keeper would heal her and retrieve her Tamlen. The wracking pain of each step had become a rhythm in her, a rhythm to which she recited that she shall not submit, an oath against her very body. She'd hold it just as dearly as the similar oath as Elvehen in defiance of the shemlen. In time, she heard running water. The strange fact that there had been no river – just a creek – by their camp, was lost in her desperation for drink. She fell to her knees and cupped her hands, taking gulp after gulp, splashing her fevered face. This forest was truly a blessing, even despite the cursed visions that haunted her.
But, wait. That dark figure was not so unreal. She squinted her amber eyes and looked more carefully at the creature. What was that? Suddenly, enough to dizzy her once more, her eyes focused perfectly. It was a hideous creature with dark skin, a horrific face, and armor covered in spikes. The very sight of it made the fever rush, her heart pulsing violently as her face flushed. She felt as though she was going to be ill, her hands shaking so uncontrollably that she was unable to pick an arrow from her quiver. The sounds which had merely haunted previously were berating her ears now in the presence of this thing, and her sight had once again begun to dim. It was as though seeing the creature had shocked her to life once more, and now that had died down. The last thing Artana saw was some manner of black blur hitting the one that she had described as the creature, and then she fell onto her side, there next to the river.
There was no sun on her face when she felt herself awoken by what felt like a tongue lashing across her cheek. It was certainly a strange sensation, do not let anyone tell you else wise. The tongue was velvety, and … wet. She began to blink her consciousness back when she heard a high-pitched whimper. An animal. Well, comforting, perhaps. Unless it was merely testing to see if it would eat her. The animal had rolled her onto her back, it seemed, for she sat up as she woke. The wolf sat back on its haunches, head tilted in some strange form of what Artana could only assume was concern. Admittedly, she gave cant to her head, too. Why would a wolf see fit to pity her condition? But as her eyes focused in the dark she realized something was … wrong about this wolf. Its fur was matted and dark, its face was fierce, and it... had spiky growths along its back. She thought to move backwards from it carefully, but somehow, she just remained still. The wolf stared, and she stared back. Artana had no idea how many minutes were lost to this, but something interesting did come of it. Somehow she knew this wolf had protected her, and somehow she knew that it 'thought' they were … the same. The same, she wondered why that phrase came through to her.
This place was Setheneran. The veil was thin. Somehow, it was allowing her to comprehend this creature. And in absence of fear, all she felt was pity for it. Cautiously, Artana reached out her hand, hesitating by the wolf's nose. It leaned its muzzle into her touch; and she took to rubbing the matted fur. Their silent bond grew as she began to help the wolf, as it had helped her. Though her muscles still seared with each motion, the rest she had gotten had given her energy. She cleaned the wolf's fur with a cautious hand to its injuries. The wolf made no hostile motion. This creature was tainted. It was sick. She understood why they were the same – she was sick, too. Was it taint? Should she even be alive? Did her Tamlen survive as she had? Her head swam with these thoughts as she ground elfroot on a flat river stone and made a paste of it. Both she and the wolf got several applications of the restorative herb. Clean and healing, Artana sat with her knees to her chest and looked across the river she was 'camped' at.
Camp. This wasn't the direction of camp at all. She was lost, and worse she was becoming tired again. Her sickness had faded with rest, but it was not gone. It was growing, if she really looked inside herself, especially here in this setheneran, she knew it was there. Her tribe was probably gone by now, she admitted to herself, as was Tamlen. Hot tears dropped down, past her shallow cheeks, and splashed on her chest. Her new companion moved close and lay its head on her shoulder.
"Lethallin, we are alone. And I am tired."
Somehow, she knew that the wolf understood. She felt like it knew her pain, and knew she was strong to survive this far. It was a wolf, a creature who appreciated such strength and perseverance. And Artana knew it felt more alone than she.
"You have lost your pack." She surmised, her voice weary from her sickness. A whimper was all she needed to find this to be true. But the whimper told her that it was more than that. They were gone, not just lost. The wolf rounded her and sat by her side. They were the same. Artana closed her eyes, wondering if this is what it was like every day for the Halla keeper. "For the time I have left, I will keep you, lethallin."
Alpha by Sresla of the Dragon Age Community at BioWare Social Network.
Beta by TanithAerys of the Dragon Age Community at BioWare Social Network.