She left, just like everyone else did.
When it was all said and done, when the world was saved, when they could all breathe, she left.
The politics, the fighting, she passed it down to Josephine and Cullen, wiping her hands of the mess because she . . . she had lost everything.
Before it had started, before the Anchor and the Inquisition, the claimings and the numbers, she had thought all she needed was a bow and a few daggers in her pockets.
And, in truth, that really was all she needed before she became Inquisitor.
She was never responsible for anything but herself really, being a hunter meant being labeled as a loner even if you weren't and that meant people didn't try to get close, people didn't really expect anything of you. She could be free, irresponsible, and no one batted an eye; she . . . she missed it sometimes. She didn't regret taking that job in the temple, ending up with that mark, meeting the people she did, she just regretted the giant hole she allowed the situation to rip into her chest.
She had convinced herself she could live that life again, swinging from place to place, dropping off souvenirs and meat, other supplies, back home when she felt like it.
But she couldn't live that life, not after everything that had happened, not after caring so much, not after him.
And yet, there she was, trying her best to be a hunter again, a mercenary, living for herself and by herself. In the wild, in the Emerald's, no one tried to bother her, no one tried to find her, not anymore. When she first left, scouts would come and go with letters, hinting for her hopeful return; she burned them. She couldn't return, she couldn't get attached to them again, because it would hurt when they left again and she couldn't take it. Maybe it was selfish, and maybe it was petty, but she didn't care, she . . . she tried not to anyway.
She notched her arrow, tongue peeking out softly from the corner of her mouth as she lined the arrow up with the rams flank.
Her belly rumbled as she let the arrow loose.
The ram bellowed and raised back on its hind legs, kicking the front into the air and then frantically wailing when the arrow screamed into his wound, sending him down to the ground. His hooves churned up fresh soil, companions fleeing and wailing into the trees, fearing they would be next. His eyes fluttered closed the moment her feet hit the wet grass, her hood falling back and tickling her ears as it did so. She held her bow tight in one hand, pacing towards the ram with an almost dull look in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, crouching down and placing her bow on the ground, reaching for her dagger.
Hunting had lost its thrill, its purpose back to basics needs like hunger. She had always enjoyed hunting, being able to fend for herself, proud and cocky of the way she handled her bow better than most of her elders. She had been a prodigy in her family, now an enigma that they weren't even sure belonged to them; she had tried returning, but they spat at her that she claimed no right to her name. She had taken the small consolation of their praise they slung like insults at her, proud but unrecognizable was her haggard and lightly scarred face, her markings gone.
She'd been stripped like a tree struck by lightning.
Alone had never been something to fear, but now she ached to have a face around her when she slept. She dreaded going home to her grove, afraid that she wouldn't be leaving next time; irrational, but deeply engrained into her mind was the possibility.
"Call for me, if you need me," was Cullen's promise.
"My Lady, send a crow," suggested Lelliana, but there was no way she would be bothering her former spy master.
"Any time, Boss," Bull was busy with his own life, those words struck hollow.
Every promise, every suggestion was fake to her ears, though she knew they meant well. She was dried up, in a sense, no one needed her to close rifts, save the world, kill a dragon, fix a bridge.
The dagger struck ground and slanted as she notched an arrow, twisting back on one knee and aiming her bow towards the trees. The leaves were too thick to let proper sunlight through so, while she could still see where it filtered through, there were patches so dark the sky may as well have been overcast. She narrowed her eyes into those dark crevices, knowing this was no nug or bear. The gaze was too intelligent, the brush of fur too light against the leaves around them; that didn't mean it was an animal.
Her hand lightly trembled when the minutes ticked by, her legs growing weak and numb from circulation being diverted.
"Masal din'an," she growled softly into the shadows.
She heard it again, the thing that alerted her first, the brush of fur and the crack of twigs. Always twigs, no one ever seemed to watch for them, even the big ones that were avoidable. A bandit, perhaps? A few? She didn't care, she was angry at being watched.
Her legs trembled when golden eyes fixed on her, blinking slow as its shoulders trembled from its heavy stride. It was slow moving, slow raising, paws large and intimidating as its teeth as it moved from the bushes to full view. Were she standing, it could have easily reached her chest, maybe above considering she was so small. Fur black and brown mixed, fading and more prominent in other places; its eyes were so bright, she was surprised she had not seen them through the dark. It moved in a methodical way, like it were more than a beast, and she had to consider it because this was the first wolf she had ever seen in the Emeralds.
It growled softly but she didn't drop her bow or move, she narrowed her eyes back and released her arrow, letting it strike the ground inched from the wolf's foot. It looked down at the arrow, almost unimpressed, and then bore its teeth at her; the display unnerved her.
"Leave," she snarled, aiming for its chest now; it even seemed to notice. "Be you shifter or spirit, leave now, I will now allow the luxury a third time."
And it stared, unmoving, unwavered, its shoulders seeming to relax. She quirked a brow at this, watching it slowly sink to the ground before her, arrow trained on it all the while. It rested its enormous head on its paws, eyes suddenly soft and patient. She hesitated with her arrow, slowly lowering it until she decided to out the bow away in favor for her dagger. She kept it in hand as she wrapped the meat she could carry , jumping when the wolves head snapped up and to the right. Her eyes followed, fear shaking down into her stomach when the bears head reared through the bushes.
It was large and lightly gray, face grizzled and its fur resembling and old beard around it's teeth. The wolf stood slowly, teeth bore yet again and a snarl tearing from its maw; she didn't know what to do with both monsters feet from her and roaring at each other.
The bear swiped at the ground, lifting dirt and grass to roll before the wolf lunged just a foot forward, snapping its jaws together in quite the display. The bears lips and gums sagged as it roared one final time and turned, ambling away and seemingly complaining the entire time. The wolves stance relaxed, its body sinking back to the ground and watching the direction the bear had come from with an intensity.
She held her dagger tight to her chest, meat packed and bow ready for her trek back home. She hesitated though, deciding on her Elven traditions and pacing around to the front of the wolf, keeping distance between her legs and its teeth. It perked up when she did so, head lifting and nose twitching in the air, waiting almost.
"Ma serannas," she bowed her head slightly, watching the wolf cock its. "Dareth shiral."
Chills had erupted over her skin as she turned her back on the beast, her step light and quick to carry her as far from that thing as possible. Her entire body lurched when she heard the howl through the trees behind her; her ears had to be playing tricks with the tone.
She didn't understand what had just happened, she didn't really care because she wasn't gutted by the bear or the wolf. In their eyes, she was as good as a halla; she was prey, whether she liked it or not. She would have to be careful on future journeys, knowing that beast was out there . . . and yet . . .
Later that night, once she had gotten over the initial shock, she heard the howl yet again, loud and waning, pining for the moon or whatever it is those wolves howled for. She didn't know, would never know, but the twigs snapping outside her window told her enough.
She held back her hair as she slid from her cot, pacing quietly towards the window and peering out into the night. She saw nothing outside of the small pools of moonlight filtering from the trees, her fire had died long ago and the light with it. She swallowed thickly as she tried briefly to find those eyes, failing as she knew she would. She inhaled deeply and smiled to herself, a tight feeling in her chest.
"Dareth, ma vhenan," she whispered into the night.
The responding howl left her a promise.