Well, this is a story I've been thinking through and dying to write out, and why not go ahead and share it with y'all? Chapter 2, just for you!
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I watch as Lyna glides around the makeshift camp, setting up her own tent and collecting a pile of wood. She scratches out a small area in the middle of the tents and stacks the wood, then quickly breathes life into a cheery flame.
Just watching the curling flames warms me a little.
Lyna drops the small pack on her back and rummages through it with concentrated intent. When she finds what she's looking for, she comes over to stand before me.
She holds out a bone comb and asks, "May I?"
I consider, and then nod my consent. She hops up on the buggy and settles behind me. The feel of the comb in my hair is exquisite. I close my eyes and enjoy her ministrations. After dislodging all the tangles, she sets to pulling the long strands into tightly woven braids. I do not let on my appreciation that she could braid tighter than I can. I always did a sloppy job, and it seems that no matter how much I practice I just can't get the braids right.
"You will sleep in my tent tonight. I will try to find you something tomorrow, but no guarantees."
I grunt. "I can sleep outside."
"Not in Ferelden you can't. The ground freezes in the night and I'm not entirely sure you're used to the cold weather yet."
"I have been outside for more than a fortnight."
"Yes, but you were off the ground and protected by a wall that prevented the south wind from cutting through you. And don't think I don't see the illness on you."
I am silent. I had hoped none of them would notice. I hate being sick.
"I will give you something for it before you go to sleep, and treat you better tomorrow when I have time to brew potions."
I grunt in acknowledgement.
She finishes tying my braids and instructs me to sit by the fire to keep warm. I do as she says, and ignore the other travellers. I listen to the conversation, but I never join in.
"So, Morrigan, I heard something in town today about a man being cursed because he said something to a pretty girl. Know anything about that?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about Alistair. I only cursed a man who decided he wanted to grab at a certain part of my body."
"Was he trying to grab your breasts? They are just out there you know. Anyone could walk up and grab a handful."
"No, he was trying to grab something else."
"Your ass? But you've got such a scrawny ass. Why would he grab that? I'd rather grab your breasts."
Alistair sputters, "Leliana, do you really have to do that?"
"Well it's true! I'd grab her breasts over her ass any day."
"Be that as it may, he was grabbing for something that was not my breasts, nor my scrawny ass, and so I cursed him."
"Well, by all means he had it coming. You can't just go around grabbing a woman's-"
"Leliana, enough!" Alistair says, turning a dark shade of red up to his hairline.
Leliana rolls her eyes.
Lyna did nothing in this exchange. She merely watched with amusement at Morrigan's and Leliana's banter and Alistair's mortification.
I think they're all lunatics.
"Alistair has first watch." Lyna says before they could start it up again. She shifts to put a hand in the pouch at her waist and hands something to me. Then she walks to the edge of the camp and disappears.
I blink, but she really is gone.
I look at what is in my hand and find a familiar herb. I chew it eagerly, and barely make it into the tiny tent before I am asleep.
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I did not wake until nearly noon the next day. Morrigan, Leliana, and Alistair were in the camp, but Lyna and the hound were missing.
I crawl out of the tent and help myself to a stew bubbling over the fire. Alistair looks like he might want to complain, but he does not. Good. I do not feel like killing the whelp before I have eaten. I feel the presence behind me even though I heard no footsteps.
Lyna stood there, watching me, her eyes locking on mine for a long while. She lays a large pack down by my feet.
"Everything in there is for you."
I nod and she walks off to check the buggy. She moves things around to situate them better, and nods her approval.
"One more day and then we're off to Redcliff." She calls over her shoulder.
"Why wait, Lyna?" Alistair asks.
"I wish to let Sten rest before we begin moving."
"I am fine."
"No, you're not. You have pneumonia, and it will take most of the day to collect the right herbs to make the potion to heal you."
I fall silent. You cannot argue with fools.
