She remembered very little from her youth in Highever, but Gwyneth could remember the rain. As a child, it had been welcome. She and Elissa Cousland would run out into the Highever Keep's courtyard and jump in the puddles, giving no thought to the mud staining the hems of their gowns. Gwyn would give anything to be able to go back to that. It would be much more welcome than the freezing, miserable, damp drizzle that was falling in the Frostbacks as her group made their way from Honnleath to Haven.
The caves that littered the mountain range provided cover, thank the Maker. Gwyn squeezed excess water from her hair near the mouth of the evening's chosen cave, then wrapped her arms around herself as she drew back into the enclosing stone. Shale and Sten were at the mouth of the cave, silent giants keeping watch together. The fire Morrigan had started was crackling merrily, Wynne hovering over it and the pot of stew that would be their supper.
Gwyn sat down amid the piles of clothing laid out to dry in the heat. The bedrolls had been dried first, so Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and Morrigan were all bundled in their respective rolls and sleeping while they could. Hero, the silly mutt, had nosed his way under Alistair and was acting as a pillow.
"What's on your mind, Gwyneth? You weren't this quiet even as a child when you first came to Kinloch." Wynne's face was drawn in concern.
"I didn't realize you knew of me back then." She stirred the coals with a stick. "You were always busy with the older apprentices and the new Enchanters."
"Oh, I knew about you. Irving rarely took personal interest in the little ones, so when he took you under his wing, there was plenty of gossip. And you're avoiding the question."
Gwyn let out a frustrated, restless noise. "I'm thinking about Amelia and Connor."
"Poor children. Their lives will not be easier after this. The Circle-"
"I'm angry at the Circle."
"What? Why?" Wynne couldn't have looked more shocked if Gwyn had leaned across the fire and slapped her.
"Think, Wynne. We're told from the moment we arrive in the Circle that the only way to break a demon's thrall over someone is to kill them. I've just freed two children from demons without harming a hair on their heads."
The older mage blinked in surprise.
"How long have Circles been needlessly slaughtering mages who could have been given a second chance? Do the Templars even know? Is it that the Chantry knows and doesn't care, or do they not consider us worth using the lyrium?"
"If they were aware, I'm certain they would do what they could to save us!"
"I'm not as certain as you are. Mages have been paying for the sins of a handful of greedy, vain people for how long?"
"The Second Sin-"
"Was caused by greed, and the drive for more power. Last I checked, that's not the sole provenance of mages. Look at-" Gwyn's voice broke, and she had to take a few deep breaths, "Look at what happened to Highever. I'm more likely to become Queen of the Anderfels than the Couslands were to betray Ferelden to Orlais."
"Gwyneth… the Circles are needed to protect mages while they come into their power and learn. It's too dangerous for everyone involved for us not to get training in how to resist demons."
"I don't doubt that when the Circles were first founded, that's how they worked. Now, we're prisoners. You couldn't even keep your son! I heard you talking to Alistair, I know what happened. I've read the whole Chant, there's nothing in there that says that mage children need to be taken away, or that mages shouldn't be able to have families. We're like cattle, maybe worth even less than cattle. People are upset when one of their cows dies needlessly."
Dashing the back of her hand against her cheeks, Gwyn wiped away the angry tears that leaked down her cheeks.
Wynne stirred the stew, a troubled look on her face. "The Circle saved my life."
"Would you have needed the Circle if mages weren't feared, and allowed to stay with their families?"
"I don't know."
"I was taken away from a Mumma and Papa I loved very much. I only know what happened to them because Lady Eleanor still cared for me and would write to me. Solona got letters up until her mother went into seclusion, and after all four of her siblings ended up being mages, she stopped hearing from her father. Five children… who knows where the others are now?" Gwyn stood. "I'm going to try to sleep a little before the food is done."
"All right." The troubled look on Wynne's face had deepened, and her eyes flicked from Gwyn, to Alistair, and back. There was probably a lecture coming, Gwyn could feel it in her bones. Still, she wouldn't pretend that she didn't care about Alistair, and bundled into her roll right next to him. Hero cracked an eye open to see who was moving, and gave her a soft 'boof' of welcome.
Gwyn pulled her rucksack in to use as a pillow, hearing the clink of bottles inside. Reaching in, she pulled out one of the lyrium potions she'd obtained at Kinloch Hold, a 'thank you' for helping clear the Tower. Even processed and diluted, it glowed a brilliant blue. Again, she found herself wondering how many had knowingly been allowed to die just because the Chantry didn't want the extra lyrium expense.
She shoved the bottle back in, wanting it out of her sight. Curling up against Alistair's back, she shuddered. Right now, she missed Torven and Farriah, her foster parents, more than she had in years. Gwyn would have given anything to have Torven call her his Little Fox, tug gently on her braid, and listen seriously to what was troubling her. Farriah would brush and re-braid her hair, then hug her close and sing until everything was better.
If only singing would fix everything now.