Fen'lath Lavellan checked over the gear the clan's hunters had helped her pinch from the shems' camp one last time, fiddling with a buckle here, a strap there. She shot a glare at the boots she would be required to wear to fit in, and set them aside along with the thick socks Ghelwyn assured her would make them bearable for feet used to feeling the earth and pliable leather wrappings. Mythal help her if she needed to draw a rune and her hands were occupied, she wasn't sure she had the control to use the heel of a boot instead of her toes.
The helm of stiffened fabric with its covering hood was the most important. The oddly shaped flaps that covered the cheeks would hide her vallaslin and conceal that she was not one of the elves serving as a scout to these southern shems, but a Dalish clanswoman. She sent a prayer of thanks to the All-Mother that she had chosen the most simple of Her markings when she came of age, the simple branching vines just sweeping across her cheekbones. It had allowed her this small escape from Keeper Deshanna's well-meaning, but tiring haranguing, as every other volunteer in the clan had vallaslin that would have shown regardless and given them away.
"It is beyond time you bonded, da'len. The Creators saw fit to bless you with fire and lightning, and a control over them I've not seen or heard of in my years as Keeper. You should have children of your own by now, to grow the clan and if They are kind, share your gifts with the People. When I am gone, it will be harder for you to act as Keeper if you still have babes on the breast."
Fen wrinkled her nose as she gazed into her fire. Her clanmates certainly didn't see her as a gift, although her magic was appreciated when it benefited them. Her father, a mage and, at the time Deshanna's First, had ruffled more than a few feathers when he'd refused to bond with anyone but her mother, bringing a mage from Ghilain into Lavellan. The Templars of the Ansberg and Markham Circles were far from where Lavellan roamed near Wycome, but the worry that the shem Chantry would take it upon themselves to 'control' the People's mage population was always there.
Her mother had put the clan's mages at seven by then, and the parents of the mage children had resented that their babes would likely be sent to other clans rather than stay with them, simply to appease the shems. Deshanna's Second… well… he'd not taken Fen'lath's birth or coming into magic well at all, especially when Deshanna decided that he would be sent to another clan to continue his apprenticeship, and Fen'lath would stay.
The Lavellan hunter her father had been meant to bond with had departed to clan Sabrae instead, and bonded with one of theirs named Mahariel. If she still lived when the clan relocated from the south to the Sundermount… Poor woman.
A gust of frost-laden wind cut through Fen's cloak and the warming runes she'd cast on it. She shuddered against the bite, and glanced at the book that peeped out of her pack. The Tale of the Champion. One had to wonder how much Tethras had plucked from his imagination, Asha'bellanar appearing, honestly!, and how much was fact. If what he'd written about clan Sabrae's fate was true, Fen needed to prove that she had been right to volunteer to spy on the shem Conclave, and it had been right for the Keeper to put such faith in her. She wasn't quite the outsider that Merrill seemed to be, but then, Deshanna tried to support her in most cases, rather than smother her.
"If this is indeed what happened, da'len," A weathered hand tapped the leather-bound tome, "Marethari brought the destruction of Sabrae about herself. If the creature had tried to escape, the shem Champion is a powerful mage who had faced down a demon previously while she herself supervised. Merrill and she would likely have destroyed it easily, especially since the Champion brought her love and the apostate mage along. And then to claim it is because of Merrill! She claims it as a consequence of Merrill's actions, absolving herself of all responsibility, instead of owning that it was interfering like an overprotective mamae! Treating her First like a babe barely out of swaddling cloths is unconscionable."
Of course, the Champion and the apostate mage were a large reason why Fen'lath was huddled in her warmest cloak hiding on the outskirts of the shem encampment below their Temple of Sacred Ashes. Their Divine had called the Templars and mages together to try and end the madness that had gripped most of Thedas, flooding out from Kirkwall like a torrent from a broken dam that threatened even the Dalish, though most clans either couldn't or wouldn't see it.
Another burst of icy air made her long for the forests of the Marches. If the Creators were kind, the shems would quit their squabbling quickly and she would be back home and warm in less than a month. Of course, they'd never shown any interest in being kind to her before, considering the one who seemed to have shown the most interest in her since her youth. As if to emphasize the Creators' general disdain for her, a chorus of wolves howled from the treeline. Fen'lath sighed and dropped her head into hands that were just this side of frozen. Time to set about appeasing the children of Fen'Harel.
She crept to the edge of the firelight and waited. The pack passed, pelts sleek in the light. The alpha male watched Fen'lath, ears perked and eyes alert. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, as though more than just the pack observed her. She looked around, uneasy, then spoke, breath lacing the air with frosty clouds. "Mythal'enaste, fen'len, hahren of your pack. Fen'Harel ghilas ma. Pass my camp in peace, falon, and dareth shiral."
The little ritual had started with an over curious child barely old enough to pronounce some of the words as she clung to one of the statues of Fen'Harel that guarded the edges of Lavellan's camp. Rather than fearing the wolves in the forests, and shrieking in fear at the tales of Fen'Harel, the little elven child with large Fade-green eyes and thick obsidian braids would instead tilt her head and ask question after question. Deshanna would get exasperated, her father would laugh and shake his head, the Second and hahren both would shout and yell.
The last of the wolves melted away, and Fen'lath faced the inevitable. Creeping back, she crawled into her tent and set protective and alarm wards. A powerful gust of wind howled through the pass, rattling the canvas and making her shriek in terror, as well as chilling her to the bone. She set as many warming runes as she could handle, then rolled up in her blankets as tightly as possible. Sleep took her quickly, and she dreamed.
A giant wolf guarded her camp, watchful and alert, six red eyes unblinking in their vigil.