"I can do this by myself, Dorian! I swear, you're a worse mother hen than Bull!"
"My darling Fen, if you'd just let me help you buckle on your prosthetic this morning like I offered-"
"I can do it, it's fine! It's just stuck in the reins, and you know Stormhart doesn't like anyone else getting too close."
As if in agreement, the gigantic red hart let out an ear-piercing, trumpeting bleat, causing all four mages to clap hands over their ears, though Fen'lath was at a disadvantage and could only cover one at the moment. The horses the other three had been riding danced away from the grumpy hart. The Ferelden Forder, Thornwood, nearly pulled Gwyneth Surana off her feet as she grabbed his reins. Marian Hawke just laughed as she chased after the Vint's Asaarash and her own Free Marches Ranger.
Gwyneth rubbed her temple with her free hand. Why had she missed this again? She'd done her share of world saving during the Blight, and in bringing the cure for the Taint back for the Wardens and Alistair. She could be at home in Denerim with him and the children. But no, she had to go and be dutiful and tell Alistair that she had to assist the Champion of Kirkwall, the Inquisitor, and the co-leader of the Lucerni.
At the moment, the Dalish woman was trying to extract the prosthetic arm that Dagna, brilliant arcanist as she was, had created for her from the reins of her hart. From where Gwyn was standing, it looked like one of the anchoring straps had broken, so maybe the assistance in being buckled in wouldn't have prevented the impromptu stop after all.
Marian came tramping out of the underbrush, disgruntled horses trailing behind her. Leaves and twigs stuck haphazardly out of the tumble of her black hair, and her leaf-green eyes sparkled merrily. At moments like this, the resemblance to Solona Amell was staggering, despite the difference in coloring. "At least we don't have to walk, right?"
"Maker, you're a more optimistic Sol."
She gave Gwyn a wobbly smile. "It's an act, I assure you. Pretty much the only thing that keeps the internal monologue of endless screaming from becoming an external monologue of endless screaming."
"Sounds like every meeting I've ever had with the Bannorn. I swear Andraste herself could appear before them and they'd have her tearing her hair out and begging for the pyre again in less than ten minutes."
The taller mage giggled at the casual blasphemy from the prim-and-proper looking Warden-Commander turned Chancellor. A loud squawk turned them back to the Inquisitor and Magister. Dorian was flapping his last clean handkerchief at the hart in outrage, "He bit me!"
"Bull bites you all the time." Fen had Stormhart by the bridle now. There was a touch of laughter in her voice, whereas before there had only been distress.
"I am not even going to dignify that with an explanation of the difference. Maddening woman." He managed to get around to the side of the hart and grabbed a rein, and Fen pinned the tangled prosthetic arm between her body and the shortened limb. Nimble fingers unknotted leather straps and rein, then pulled it free with a triumphant cry. Everyone winced away as Stormhart bleated again in response.
Shaking her head, Fen'lath rubbed her neck using the prosthetic gripped in her hand. "Well, this seems to be going well. How far into the trip are we?"
Dorian's perfectly shaped eyebrow rose. "We left Skyhold an hour and a half ago. So, by my count… an hour an a half."