Nature's course isn't always that simple.
Dragon Age belongs to BioWare.
)O(
Quietus
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"Over here."
Beckoning for Kevlimm and his student Clai to follow, Hesta made her way across the rocky clearing, plying a stick and hitching her twisted leg with the ease of long practice.
"I wouldn't have realized it was there if the halla hadn't been acting so interested. Wyliadwrus there," she nodded toward the water's edge, "gave it a good long inspection and apparently decided it was no threat."
Kevlimm glanced at the great bull halla where it stood, hock-deep in the inlet, watching the three elves pass with a steady gaze before flicking an ear in dismissal and dipping its muzzle for a drink. The ensuing ripples distracted a nearby heron, which briefly paid sharp attention before resuming its patrol of the shallows, delicately placing each footstep with the considered precision of a master artisan.
"Here," Hesta repeated. She stopped at one of the larger clusters of granite which thrust from the dirt like defiant fists, and the sun highlighted the blue vallaslin tracing her cheek as she leaned over to point. Lesser boulders and deadfall had recently shifted to reveal a natural den created by the rock formation, at the back of which a skeleton huddled under the remains of a rotted blanket. An elaborately worked staff lay in the dirt alongside a small mound.
"Human," Kevlimm commented.
"One less shemlen to bother the Dalish, then," Clai pronounced with all the pompous conviction of adolescence.
"That's precisely what one of them would say were the positions reversed." Hesta spoke absently as she sidled into the space. Kevlimm simply gave the youngster a Look before following, and the boy turned red and stared at the ground, abashed.
The scout hunkered down and eyed the pathetic figure appraisingly. "Female. Young, maybe late twenties at most. It's protected from the elements in here, but..." He prodded at the soil. "Lots of insect activity once. I'd say she's been here... about three years, perhaps."
"I wonder what happened." Hesta carefully picked up the staff. A jagged crack ran its length, marring the runes carved into the dark wood. "A mage...wandering free or on the run and hiding? Maybe an escapee from one of those Circles we've heard about?" She set the staff down again and turned her attention to the mound, which revealed itself to be a small satchel of oiled canvas. The contents were for the most part crumbling packets of herbs, intermixed with a few coins and a carefully wrapped bundle which Hesta withdrew.
"How lovely." It was a small glass mirror set in a golden frame. The back was beautifully etched: a stag and a doe with necks entwined, surrounded by a cloud of sparrows taking flight. "Someone must have loved her dearly."
"Or she stole it." At Hesta's reproachful look, it was Kevlimm's turn to drop his eyes, though not without an inward smile.
Kevlimm sat back on his heels and surveyed the rock enclosing them, noting the patterns of scrapes and gouges. "I think she blocked herself in here. Could be she was hiding, or it was for protection, but this..." He ran his fingers along a series of cracks and frowned thoughtfully. "This is frost damage, and definitely not natural. She was throwing spells after she had settled in? Odd."
"Look at this." Clai was crouched at the entrance and working a pale object free of the loosely packed dirt. Rapping it lightly on the palm of his hand he held it out. "Wolverine." The skull seemed to snarl every bit as menacingly as in life.
"Ah." Kevlimm nodded in understanding at sight of the flattened dome. "See there?" He touched the deep scores in the mask. "Frost damage. It must have been forcing its way in and she was defending herself. Well spotted." He inclined his head to Clai, who flushed again, this time with gratification at the praise from his hero.
"But why would it have been so determined to get at her?"
"She may have been sick or injured. An aggressive opportunist like this, especially if food were otherwise scarce – it wouldn't be unusual."
"How sad." Hesta cautiously drew the blanket remnants completely away. "Oh..."
All three elves fell silent at the sight of the tiny bones still nestled within the protection of the young woman's pelvis.
In the quiet, the sound of a jay rapping on a log echoed sharply. Tok! Tok! Tok!
Hesta let her breath out slowly.
"Breech," she said. "All alone...she must have bled out."
"Maybe," Clai said hesitantly, "Maybe that was why she was hiding all the way out here? Someone...forced her?"
"Or her lover died. Or she was fleeing Chantry fanatics. Or she got lost in the snow." Kevlimm spoke heavily. "In the end it's all the same – just a sorry waste." He held his hand out.
Hesta carefully laid the golden mirror near the girl's hand before replacing the tattered blanket, then stood with her friend's assistance and followed him out of the cleft.
"I'll speak to Brennin and ask him to come sing them to rest." Kevlimm said quietly. "I know my brother; he'll want to do it." Hesta smiled at the taciturn scout in thanks, and he touched her shoulder gently before turning to the waiting Clai.
"Come on, shadow. Let's go find the Hahren." They strode away amongst the trees, moving silently over the needles and mast-strewn terrain.
The air had a crystalline quality at this altitude, in which sounds were at once sharply clarified and oddly muffled. She leaned against the boulders, listening to the breeze soughing high in the treetops with the sound of the distant sea. In her mind's eye she pictured the young woman: all alone, setting up her walls, successfully defending against predators, only to be torn apart from within as her own body failed her.
The halla nibbled desultorily, drifting like terrestrial clouds. The late afternoon sun had turned the water into a mottled silver sheet, against which the heron's silhouette stood sunk in watchful immobility, its nature betrayed only by the breeze riffling at its crest.
"Poor thing." Hesta's eyes filled with sudden tears. "You must have been so frightened."