My eyes opened to darkness. After a moment, I realized I was in a cave, the faint light being fed into it coming from the distant fires at Haven. I made a move to stand, only to stumble at the sharp pains coming from different parts of my body. I hadn't planned on this; I'd kind of hoped that I would've been killed along with the enemy in the avalanche, but it seems I was made of tougher stuff. Which probably meant they were still alive too, though more than likely they retreated to nurse their own wounds. I recalled the look in their Elder One's eyes and shuddered, knowing this was far from over. Hauling myself off the ground with no small amount of effort, I began down the tunnel before me. I wasn't sure how long I was out, but there was the chance everyone was still nearby. If I could get outside and find their trail, I had a chance. The mages and healers could tend my wounds, and I would live to fight another day. But first, I had to get out of this cave.
I was lucky my sword stayed strapped to my back after the fall, because my journey out of the cave was not unchallenged. Some small cave crawling denizens of the dark blocked my path. I wasn't sure how it worked, but the mark on my hand, the Anchor, as Corypheus called it, pulsed with power and struck them down. Drained by the pulse, I shuffled forward, blindly looking for a way out. The air was getting crisper, fresher, so I could only assume I was heading the right way. The chill was settling through my armor and into my skin, and even in the windless cave my face felt numb. Part of me wanted to hole up in the cave until this storm passed, but the Haven group would be anywhere by then, so I pressed forward.
It felt like I was walking for hours before I finally found the mouth of the cave. The sight outside was both what I expected and horrifying. A huge blizzard had moved in, and the snow swirled around in the howling wind, whiting out everything. All I could do was go forward and hope I wasn't walking in circles. Within moments my teeth began to chatter; I had no cloak, I had not prepared for surviving the harsh weather of the Frostbacks. I thought of the people of Haven and wondered if they were faring any better. I'd hopefully bought enough time for them to pack at least a few things. As I trudged through the snow, I remembered my comrades who braved Corypheus with me. We'd been separated by the dragon, and I could only pray that they ran back to the main group and weren't eaten by an archdemon.
I was lucky enough not to run into any more opposition; everything must have been hiding from the snow, or the snow simply acted as a curtain between them and me. I felt like even a nug would pose a threat in this state. My muscles shook violently as I rubbed at my arms to try to keep warm, though the thin mail I wore kept the friction from doing much. As I blindly walked through the whirling snow, I found my first sign that I was on the right path; a recently extinguished fire. New hope burning strength into my limbs, I stumbled onwards on shaking legs, hoping to the Maker that He would guide my feet because there were no tracks to speak of after this storm.
It felt like both days and minutes later when my legs finally collapsed. My muscles burned from the constant trembling, my teeth ached from banging together with the cold, my eyes streamed with tears from the blowing wind, which of course froze from the cold, almost sealing them shut. The snow around me chilled even further, but no matter how I tried, my limbs wouldn't pick me up off the ground again. I clung to myself and prayed to the Maker that someone, anyone, would find me.
The people of Haven huddled in the quickly grabbed tents, shivering in the few cloaks and blankets some were able to take before Haven was destroyed. The three leaders of this slowly blooming Inquisition huddled together out in the storm, voices carrying over the wind as they shouted, each blaming the others and fighting over whether searching for the Herald was a lost cause or if she might still be alive. Commander Cullen was resolute on leading a search party, and Leliana argued it was a waste of time in such a storm. Josephine waffled between the two, uncertain and filled with good intentions. The young man who warned them, Cole, huddled nearby, mumbling to himself but staying out of their affairs. His face was twisted in conflict, like a child with a secret.
"What are you muttering about?" Varric finally asked, still nursing a few bruises and cuts he'd sustained in the escape. It was like the question opened a flood gate from the young man, speaking almost mechanically but also with an urgent tone.
"Cold, so cold, can't hardly think, hope they're looking, hope they find me, Maker please…" the words fell from his mouth like he couldn't control it, eyes wide, looking almost sick with concern.
"What're you on about?" Dorian, the Tevinter mage that had helped them against the rebel mages, demanded, shivering near a conjured fire.
"I can hear her, she's cold, she's dying, we have to find her," Cole's pleading eyes swept the camp, looking for anyone that would be willing to help.
"What do you mean you can hear her?" Seeker Cassandra stormed closer, eyes like thunder. "I hear nothing. Explain." Cole looked away from her fearfully, hands clasping and unclasping.
"I can hear her inside. Like her speech but faint and far away."
"It seems Cole is not what he seems," the slight form of Solas had wandered over when no one was watching. "But that is a matter for less dire times. I think he could lead us to the Herald if we let him." Cullen was the first to walk over from the argument nearby.
"Then we go, now. If we move fast we may still find her in time," his voice was firm and a few soldiers wandered closer, wondering if they should come help. "Do you think you can find her in this?"
"Yes," Cole confirmed. "It is quiet but I can still hear." Cullen nodded, gestured to a few of his men, and followed Cole out of camp and into the blizzard.
"Muscles ache, teeth ache, everything aches, Maker, let someone find me." The snow swirled around them, stinging their cheeks and slowing their steps, and fear struck Cullen's heart, almost knocking Cole out of his determined searching. How were they ever going to find her? Even if they did, what if she was already gone? What if she was so far gone, there was nothing they could do? Maker, why did he ever let her do this insane plan?
"Everything numb, so tired, want to sleep, don't want to die, please let him find me, Maker I hope they're looking," Cullen followed Cole's figure in the howling snowstorm like following a dowsing rod, at least relieved that the thoughts were still coming, even if they were becoming less and less coherent. Suddenly, the snow let up, the wind dying down for just a few moments, and the search party saw a dark shape in the snow nearby.
"I see her!"
The cold wind had settled down, and in the absence of the roar and the whipping ice across my face, my freezing form sagged, every muscle exhausted from its desperate attempts to keep out the cold. I wondered idly if I would freeze to death first, or if some form of animals would make me its dinner. Nearby I heard heavy footfalls, and wondered if it was the end for me. I flinched away but didn't get far when I felt someone pry my fingers off my arm and wrap their hand around it.
"It's alright," a small voice whispered, and the warmth of his hand was almost intoxicating to my frozen skin. "We're here now." Still shuddering in the snow, I felt someone wrap something warm around my shoulders and start to manipulate my reluctant body into a position easier to carry. My tear frozen eyelids just managed to crack open to see it was Cullen and a small group of soldiers that had come to my rescue. The voice had come from the strange boy who had warned us of the coming attack. He never let go of my hand, and it was oddly comforting. I wondered to myself if it would be safe to sleep now.
"Don't," the boy quietly insisted, and I wondered how he knew what I'd been thinking. "We're almost back, they'll make you better and then you can." I tried to nod my head and realized my muscles were still trembling, trying to make me warm again, and contented myself to turn into my rescuer, stealing what heat I could from the commander.
It seemed like no time that we were in some form of makeshift camp, and I knew it had to be the remnants of Haven. I was placed on a small cot, probably something the forces were able to grab from the chantry before fleeing, and covered with blankets. Solas came over and gave me a quick examination, mumbling words and waving his hands and I assume fixing problems because many of my aches disappeared. Dorian conjured a small fire near the bed, and I had to stop myself from trying to run to it. Even so, I felt my limbs slowly thawing, and I gave in to the sleep I'd yearned for at last.
"She thought about you." Cole's voice broke through Cullen's thoughts as he tried for the fifth time to walk away from the argument about who's fault it was that Haven burned to the ground.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the commander muttered, not interested in what the boy had to say. Solas had mentioned he was not what he seemed. Was he a demon? An abomination? Surely such things would not have been so ready to help find the Herald.
"She was cold and dying and she thought of you," Cole came a little closer, his gaunt face watching Cullen closely. "It helped. You helped."
"Ridiculous. We'd have never found her if not for you," Cullen dismissed, eyes wandering to the deeply breathing bundle in one of the tents.
"But that didn't help like you did," Cole insisted, and wandered away.