"You're sure it's her, Varric?" asked the man who smelled of magic. Three other armed males stood with him.

"She matches the description," the beardless dwarf answered with a nod, looking Raven over appraisingly. "Pale, blue eyes, black hair, with black armor and twin daggers. And the scar is hard to miss, too."

"Finally," the taller of the two human males sniffed. "We've been all over Darktown looking for you."

Raven's blood ran cold as they spoke. They had a description of her and were looking for her. Kaffas, they had to be the slavers Tomwise mentioned. She should have been more careful. There were only four of them, but one was a mage of unknown strength, and who knew how many other hunters were lurking nearby. She needed to get out of here.

She opened the pouch on her belt and snatching up a smoke bomb from it.

"Hey – " started the dwarf, as Raven threw the bomb to the ground. The casing shattered and black smoke billowed up to obscure the entire passage within seconds.

Raven shot over an old rail cart and ran east. Right before the corner she twisted around just long enough to let loose a throwing knife toward the hunters. She briefly locked eyes with the mage, who had already cleared the smoke with a blast of wind. Then she was around the corner and sprinting.

She needed to leave Kirkwall. Honestly, she had stayed too long already. Kaffas, she would need supplies. Food would be scarce in the Free Marches winter, and the next city was weeks away. She felt the weight of the coin purse against her hip. And she needed to get this coin to Bran, especially because she was leaving. She felt a pang in her chest, but ignored it. She couldn't stay with them now, especially with the hunters on her trail again.

Raven chanced a glance behind her as she shot past a startled elven woman. No sign of the hunters. Yet, at least. She growled to herself. She had to chance it, had to go back to the Nest. If Andraste listened to elves, let her keep the hunters from finding Raven there.

Another few twisting passages led her to the Nest. At her rushed entrance Lily shot up from her seat on a crate, the mending dropping from her hands. The younger ones looked up at her from where they were playing in the dirt, drawing with sticks. Bran turned to look at her with a startled expression, a hand on the dagger at his hip.

"Bran," Raven breathed, quick fingers untying her coin purse from her belt. She tossed it to him, momentary gladdened when he caught it with one hand. His reflexes were improving. Maybe he could manage as a mercenary or smuggler if he had more practice.

"Raven? What's the matter?" Bran asked, glancing between her and the passageway she had just emerged from.

"Here, quickly," Raven answered, beckoning as she marched to her little corner. She snatched up the pack where she kept her few things. "I have to go. The people I told you about, they're here," she said in a low voice to Bran. She glanced at the gathering of crates that served as their kitchen, set up toward the back of their camp. She knew they had little food left right now. No, she wouldn't take it. She would have to steal something before leaving Kirkwall. That, or use the few silvers she had sewn into the hem of her undershirt for emergencies. Such as this very situation.

"There's coin there for a week, if you use it wisely. Go back to Lirene, she'll figure something out," Raven said, nodding at the purse clutched in Bran's hand.

The boy's hand tightened on his dagger. "If…if you're in trouble, I…" he stammered.

Raven gripped his upper arms. The teenager was several inches taller than her, so she had to look up to lock gazes with him. "Absolutely not," she hissed. "Take the kids, lie low. Get them to Lirene, tell her I'm gone. Got it?"

Bran looked over Raven's shoulder, seeing the young kids watching curiously and Lily watching anxiously. She hadn't heard any of the conversation, but could tell something was not right.

"Yeah, I got it," he mumbled, then took a deep breath.

Raven nodded, releasing her hold on him. Her gaze flickered to the others briefly. At the pang in her chest she looked back to Bran. "I'm sorry to leave this responsibility to you. But please, trust me on this," she said, voice low and strained.

Bran nodded. He hesitated, then squeezed Raven's shoulder with one hand. "Good luck, Raven," he said, then turned from her. She watched him approach the youngsters and beckon to Lily. The girl gave Raven a worried look, but at a nod from her she moved to join Bran. Raven pulled the pack over a shoulder and turned away, sprinting back the way she had come.

Raven didn't make it far before the scent of magic hit her again. She had time only to reach for her daggers before a weight slammed into her and sent her stumbling back against the wall. The big human.

"Carver!" the mage shouted angrily, but the man ignored him.

"You nearly took my eye out with that knife!" he shouted at Raven, referring to the blade she had thrown earlier. He advanced with menace but without his sword drawn. That was his mistake.

Raven dropped the pack off her shoulder. She launched herself off the wall, grabbing her daggers from her back and going in high with the dagger in her right hand aimed at the human's chest. She could drop this one, then lead the others away from the Nest. She couldn't let these slave hunters anywhere near the kids.

The human's face contorted from anger to surprise at Raven's speed. As he reached over his back for his sword Raven slashed the dagger in her left hand across his raised arm. Before her other dagger could sink into his chest, a bolt slammed into her right upper arm. She grunted with the impact, the force enough to jerk her arm back and save the man from a blade to the heart. The damned dwarf had a crossbow.

"Raven, stop!" called the mage, but his staff was raised. "We're not here to fight you!"

No, just here to take her back to Tevinter.

She grit her teeth and dodged around the swordsman. She had dropped the dagger from her injured right arm, so was now down to one. She needed to take the mage out, before he could –

The elf warrior was suddenly between her and the mage, broadsword clanging against her dagger. Raven was surprised he could move so quickly, especially with a large sword. She recovered, pulling back and twisting to come in low with a swipe at the elf's legs. He jumped back to avoid the blow. Raven shot up from her crouched position, turning as she detected the human swordsman behind her. She ducked down and around him again, coming up behind him.

"Carver!" the mage shouted again, this time in warning.

Raven poised her dagger to strike, aiming high on his back past the broadsword strapped there. She caught sight of someone from the corner of her eye. Bran, holding one of the youngsters by the hand, coming from the direction of the Nest. The teen and the child, Garen, both looked at her with wide eyes. Raven's breath caught in her throat. No, they couldn't be there. The slavers –

An electric shock shot through her body, freezing her in place. She cried out, the pain raging through her veins. As her vision darkened at the edges she saw Bran pull the boy back and run the other way. There were other passages Bran could lead them through to reach Lowtown. She didn't have a moment to be relieved, though, as she collapsed to the dirt.

"Shit, Hawke. What happened to 'We don't want to fight'?" the dwarf said somewhere beyond Raven's closed eyes.

"It was just a small shock! It should've only paralyzed her for a few seconds." That was the mage.

Raven could hear footsteps over the sound of her ragged breathing. The pain began to subside. She was not going to give in. Forcing her eyes open, she spotted her dagger where she had dropped it. She reached for it and tried to roll to her knees at the same time, her muscles still shaking. She inhaled sharply as the act of reaching sent more pain cutting through her arm where the bolt stuck through the flesh.

The elven swordsman seized her outstretched arm and yanked her up violently. She grunted through gritted teeth as he slammed her against the wall of the passageway, holding her several inches off the ground. "Venhedis! Enough!" he growled at her.

"Fuck you," Raven hissed vehemently, glowering at the elf. Why would an elf help slavers? He must be a mercenary, caring more for coin than people. Or maybe a brainwashed pet. She still felt a buzz at the base of her skull plus involuntary muscle twitches. Her vision swam. It would take a long while for the effects of the magic to wear off, and by then they would surely have her secured and on a ship back to Tevinter.

This was it. This was how she would be captured, a runaway pet caught and returned to its master. A pet that would be brought to heel once more. All her memories would become reality again. Raven's eyes began to water, and a bitter sense of inevitability settled in her gut.

"Damn it, Carver, hold still," the mage said, standing off to the side examining the cut Raven had given the swordsman's arm. "Let me heal that, it's not too deep."

The other hunters were distracted for the moment, Raven realized. If she could get the elf to loosen his grip, maybe she still had a fighting chance. If not…well, she was not going to be dragged back there. If she couldn't escape, then maybe she could still deny the magister his property. Pleading wouldn't work, not with slavers set on a bounty. Maybe she could goad the elf into killing her. Or maybe the human swordsman, he seemed angry enough. She spat curses and insults in Tevene, directed at the elf pinning her to the wall. The elf's green eyes narrowed but before he could respond there were suddenly small fists pounding on his leg.

"Get offa her!" the little human boy screamed. "Let Mama go!"

Raven's eyes widened and panic gripped her heart. She renewed her struggle under the elf's vice-like grasp. "Run!" she hissed at the child. How had he gotten away from Bran and Lily?

"Hawke. Do something about this," the elf grumbled, looking at the mage in exasperation. His grip on Raven's arms only tightened against her struggles. Damn that spell, she was stronger than this. She could throw people around with little effort normally, when her muscles weren't sparking with an electric spell.

The mage chuckled, stepping over and pulling the boy back by his shirt.

"Don't fucking touch him!" Raven growled. She tried to wretch an arm free, but the elf's clawed gauntlets only bit further into her skin.

The mage frowned at Raven, but his attention was pulled back to Garen as the boy turned his assault on him. The mage crouched, gripping the boy by the shoulders to hold him far back enough that his little fists couldn't reach him. "And what's your name? How old are you?" he asked, smiling.

"Garen," the boy said defiantly, chin out as he glared at the mage. He scrubbed a fist across his dirt-streaked face. "I'm almos' five. Papa says that's little. But I can beat you!"

The mage was still smiling. "Well, Garen. I'm Garrett. You certainly are awfully strong for only four. I think Fenris here is going to have bruises," he said with a nod toward the elf, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

Kaffas. They were going to take him. A healthy child who would take up little room on a ship and who could easily be molded into an obedient slave.

"Let him go, mage," Raven demanded. Kaffas, she was in no position to threaten. It would only make them angrier. Fasta vass, she had to beg. "I…," she paused, swallowing her disgust for her next words. "I'll cooperate. I'll do anything." She stopped struggling, illustrating her words. It was a lie of course. As soon as Garen was safe and she had a chance, she would slit these hunters' throats.

The dwarf chuckled. "'Anything' can cover a lot of things. Sure you want to offer that?"

Raven smothered a sneer. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Just don't hurt him. Let him go."

Now the mage looked puzzled, frowning as he looked at her. "I wouldn't hurt a kid," he baulked. He turned back to Garen, then his gaze flicked past him. Raven followed his line of sight, spotting Bran standing in the shadows. Panic was obvious in his expression, his dagger gripped tightly in his right hand. Garen must have managed to pull away from him and run back after they saw Raven go down.

"Is that your father?" the mage asked Garen, lifting a hand in greeting toward Bran. The teenager did look older than his sixteen years, between the facial hair, hard life, and the shadows of Darktown. Bran stayed where he was, not returning the wave. The mage's brow furrowed as he frowned.

The boy followed the mage's gaze, then nodded. "Papa," he said. Neither Bran nor Raven were related to him, but the child had insisted on calling the two of them his parents. Likely because they were the oldest, tallest, and the ones who provided the most. Raven always corrected him, but he ignored her scolding on the matter. There was no point in correcting him in this situation, though.

Bran looked to Raven, eyes asking if he should get involved. Raven shook her head once, lifting her chin to point back toward the passageway. Vox morti, he needed to get away. Now. The mage watched the exchange, before kneeling again to face the boy.

The mage patted the boy's shoulder. "Why don't you go on back to him, hm? We're just going to talk with your mama," he paused, looking at the bolt in Raven's arm. "…and take her to a healer. Alright?"

Raven gritted her teeth at the obvious lie. She would be packaged up and taken to Tevinter, never to see Garen or the other kids again. But if this meant they would leave Bran and the others alone, she could stay quiet. For now.

Garen looked uncertain, mouthing his knuckles as he looked at Raven, still pinned against the wall. She managed a half-smile. "It's okay, Garen. I'll be back later." She could lie as well, to get the child out of danger.

The child still looked unconvinced, but he nodded and turned to run to Bran. The teen sheathed his dagger and scooped up the kid, squeezing him tight. The boy was pointing at Raven and the others, likely repeating what he had been told. The mage watched them, head tilted slightly. Bran's worried look didn't change, though. He took one last look at Raven, indecision in his eyes. Raven glared back. Bran turned and disappeared down a different shadowed passage. Raven exhaled in relief.

The mage stood, turning a quizzical look on Raven. "Fenris, let her go." The elf scowled but complied, releasing his grip. She scraped down the wall the few inches to the ground. She tried to steady herself, still leaning against the wall, her muscles weak from the spasms.

"I think I'm missing something here," the mage continued, frowning. "Let's start with why you're so intent on killing us."

Raven took a deep breath, leaning on her knees as if for support. As she pulled herself up straight and away from the wall with a jerk, her left fingers pulled a throwing knife from her belt. Just as she twisted her wrist to flick the blade at the mage a spell hit her full in the chest. The throwing knife fell from her grasp as she stumbled back into the wall, her back scraping against it as she fell to a seating position. The world spun, her body grew heavy, and her mind grew foggy. Her eyes snapped shut and her chin fell to her chest.

"Just a sleeping spell, Varric," Raven heard the mage say reassuringly from far away. "Carver, think you can carry her to Anders's clinic? It's close, and he's a far better healer."

"She tried to kill me!"

The mage sighed. "Fenris?"

She barely felt her body shift, being pulled upward into someone's arms. The healer was working with slavers? That bastard. When she saw him again she would… she… would…

With that last thought, Raven faded into darkness.