"So, you never told me us your name, love."

I swallowed the slightly stale piece of bread, looking up from my plate. "Oh, sorry." I sheepishly said, then felt the corners of my mouth turn upwards. "My name is Ella," My smile spread wider, as I picked up another piece. "I have to say, Yolande. I'm glad we met."

"S'lright," she briefly leaned over to dap a napkin over Jonathan's lips, admonishing him softly over something my ears couldn't quite catch. "Was brought up by ma folk to treat others as I would have them treat me. If it were me out there I wouldn't want to be ignored either."

"Still, thank you," I picked up the spoon beside my plate, digging it into the odd stew. I didn't want to seem rude. I caught Jonathan staring and smiled lightly at him. He quickly averted his eyes. "How old is your son?"

"Seven," she smiled ruefully as she patted the boy on the head, before ruffling his hair slightly. The action drew a cute pout from the child, even more so when he tried to glare at his mother with a bread in his mouth. "Though he still acts like he's three sometimes."

His cheeks flamed. "No I don't!"

"You know," I caught his attention, trying to ease his embarrassment. "When I was your age, I used to have this really big kite. I brought it out in the field with my uncle all the time. It made all the other kids jealous."

His nose crinkled. "What's a kite?"

My eyes widened. "You don't know what a kite- oh my, you're missing out."

"What? Missing out on what?" He questioned, and I saw the glimmer of excitement in his green eyes as he leaned forward eagerly, waiting impatiently for my answer.

"How do I explain this…" I pursed my mouth, and glanced over to Yolande, who was watching the exchange with mild amusement. "It's like this big sheet," I held out my arms. "Attached to bits of wood to give it shape, and a very long string."

"That sounds boring." He scoffed, pouting.

"You haven't heard the good part yet!" I teased. "When you run, you have to hold it out like this-" I picked up the spoon, using it to demonstrate. "-and it'll make the kite fly." his eyes perked up with interest. "Mine was the coolest because it looked like a dragon."

"What?" He squeaked, looking at me with disbelieving eyes. "No way! I don't believe you."

"If you want, after dinner-" I felt my mouth twitch, and looked at Yolande. "And if your mother says so, we can make you one."

"Mama!" he pleaded, already giving her the classic puppy eyes. She rolled her own, and put her hand on his head.

"I suppose, my little man." Her expression hardened to stern, and she bopped him on the nose with her finger. "But eat yer dinner first."

"But mama-!" he whined, but relented at her look and pouted, shovelling his food into his mouth. I released a laugh.

My heart skipped a beat when the sound of the door and heavy footsteps reached my ears, followed by a gruff, barrel chested man walking in. "Evening luv," he greeted, voice sounding drained as he hung his coat up on a hook beside the door, a small breeze followed him.

"Papa!" the kid practically leapt off the chair, his elbow hitting the bowl and nearly overturning it in the process. He ran over to the gruff man, jumping into his arms, laughing as he was lifted up and spun around a few times.

I sat up, dropping my spoon into my bowl. That has to be her husband. The chair legs behind me screeched along the floorboards when I sharply stood. My eyes frantically searched behind him, flickering over to the man's face almost pleadingly.

Dean? Where-

"Oh?" he finally looked my way, noticing me for the first time. "Who's this lass?"

"She's a lass, papa?" I paused in my pursuit, gawking at the boy.

"What manner of question is that? Course she is."

"No she's not!" the boy argued back. "You told me lassie's have tits!"

Yolande's warming smile quickly melted into a scowl as she stared daggers at her husband. His eyes widened to an almost comical level, skin paling, and he held up his hands, as if surrendering. He stammered. "L-lad, wha-"

"Goidermar," she hissed, her voice practically dripping with venom.

Despite the fact I was fairly sized (and a little annoyed) I ignored the boy's remark about my chest and stepped forward, cutting in before things got ugly. "I'm the girl that you helped this morning. Your wife told me that you were out with people looking for other survivors." Realisation clicked in his gaze. "So, uh, did you…?"

"Oh, so you're her. I see the color has returned to your cheeks at least." He coughed and tried to ignore his wife's shrewd stare. "Your friend… well, he's in a bad shape, worse than you actually."

I managed to relax my tensing muscles at the news and exhaled, at least he was alive. "How bad?"

"Don' know, I ain' no healer. Bu' he looked pretty battered. If I thought you were lucky to be still breathing, that lad either have the blessings from the Maker 'imself or the shitest fortunes to be in that shape in the first place."

Maker? Like God? Maybe they are cultists. Nice cultists- but still, cultists.

I shifted from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the hem of my sleeve. Then I asked the question burning on my mind. "So... where is he? A hospital nearby?"

"Me and the folks left him at the Chantry. Sister Adelaide knows best how to look after someone like 'im. But if she can't bring him back to shape, well I'm 'fraid there's nothing we can do for your friend."

Wait, Chantry? Chantry. Like, a chapel? If so, why are they calling it a chantry? Wasn't that a medieval term? What were they going to do? Prey that he get well soon? A sharp pang of annoyance filled me, followed by a stream of anger. Why didn't they get him to a hospital?

I squashed it down, maybe it's simply too far to move him? This place does seem to be in the middle of nowhere. "How far is the… Chantry?"

"Center of the village, building with the highest point and a sunburst at its tip. Ya can't miss it."

"Alright, thank you," I inclined my head, starting to beeline for the door. On my way, I said, "I'm going to go see him."

"Oh no," he stopped me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "He ain't awake yet. And best let Sister Adelaide take care of him for now. 'Sides, not much you can do for him, and if anything you'll only get in her way."

I stubbornly argued. "I should be there when he wakes up."

"Your friend will be fine, the good sister knows what she's doing."

"In the meantime," I heard a step on the floorboards and glanced to Yolande, her eyes coldly flashed. She spoke to me, but stared at her beau. "Ella, would you mind keepin' an eye on Jonathan for me? I need to have a word with me 'usband."

Goidermar visibly became still.

"Sure," I murmured, not eager to be in between a couple's spar. The boy smartly kept his mouth shut and Yolande icily stormed off to their bedroom. The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, dragging his feet after her.

There was a click of the door, closing behind them. Then heated, muffled yelling from the scorned woman.

"So," I cleared my throat awkwardly, facing the boy. "Jonathan. How about that kite?"

His face lit up.

"Alright, first, we need to get the correct pieces." I instructed, whilst he eagerly listened. "Two long twigs. Some kind of big cloth, a knife or scissors and a thin rope, if you have all that."

"What are scissors?" His nose scrunched.

I blinked. Wow. This family really is behind with the times, huh? "They're… y'know what, never mind, have you got a knife?"

"Papa has a sword and a dagger he uses to go huntin' sometimes." The said man was mumbling in the background behind the door, the screeching of his wife could've been heard from Russia. I shook my head. "They argue a lot."

I somberly smiled. "I don't think this is gonna be that serious though, you have nothing to worry about."

"Mama and papa usually make strange noises after every fight." His forehead crinkles. "They tell me to stay in my room and they go to bed early."

My eyes widened.

"Hey so, where are those sharp object-knife-things?" I quickly change the topic, and he walked over to a set of rickety draws before opening them. Jonathan passed me what resembled an old looking seax. A small, straight dagger with a silver body and a brass hilt. I placed it on the floor. "String? Rope? Twine? Anything like that?"

"Mama has thread in her room." Which they're currently in. "I think papa left some rope in the hen pen."

"Hen pen?"

I grimaced at the thought of having to go in there, but one look at the pleading freckly face in front of me made me groan and gesture for him to lead the way. A bright grin split in his face and he grabbed my hand. I closed the door behind us and he impatiently pulled me toward a rough looking shed.

"Calm down, we got time." I lightly chuckled.

"Not enough!" He declared, but let go of my hand so he could open the hen pen doors.

The rusted, stiff doors creaked and almost instantly I was hit with a strong stagnant odor from inside that had me hesitating about walking any further. Bits of bird shit was sprinkled on the floor. Sleeping chickens was snuggling in their nests, a couple were awake and clucking at me the moment I stepped into the shed.

The rope was hanging off a nail on the wall right next to a nest. Reluctantly I leaned forward to grab it, letting out a string of curses and jumping back in fear when a chicken nearly pecked my fingers. Jonathan snorted and grabbed it for me, I sulkily followed him out.

"You're scared of chickens!" He cried with laughter.

"Not funny." I groused.

"They're chickens!"

"They're evil."

"You're the worst adult I've seen."

"Brat." He wiped tears forming in the corners of his bright eyes. Unable to stop the smile from twitching on my mouth at his joy, I gently pushed him, and he in turn retaliated.

We collected the other materials, laying them flat on the grass. Jonathan sat cross legged in front of me. I was tying around the tail. Constantly, he asked me more and more questions which turned from the kite to my life. I answered to the best of my ability but when he seemed confused through most of it so I turned the conversation on him instead.

"Do you have other family?"

"No. I'd like more. It gets lonely. Mama is getting too busy for me and papa is hunting all the time."

"Maybe you'll still be in luck." Their parents don't seem to becoming abstinent any time soon.

"Really?" His eyes glistened with happiness. "D'ya think ya can stay? We could make more kites and stuff. Mama wouldn't mind if ya live with us!"

"Ah. Aha." I felt uncomfortable with letting him down but patted him on the head, playing with his hair. "It's getting late tiny man, we should probably head back. I'm getting tired."

He threw me a big smile. "You are old after all."

I rolled my eyes, poking him in the nose. "Cheeky little sod." He poked out his tongue. "And…. she's ready." I held my beauty up. It wasn't the best but I did well considering what I had to work with.

"Is… that it?" He looked unimpressed.

I laid it neatly behind me, holding the kite rope and readying into a stance. "Stay there. Watch me."

I broke into a slow jog, which developed into a fast sprint. I held up my hand behind me and slightly turned my body to an angle so I could look behind me and watch as the wind guided the kite to the air. It flowed up, being carried by the momentum of my run. When I finished my test, I stumbled to a stop in front of Jonathan, who was more than eager to have a go.

"Give it to me! Give it to me! My turn! My turn!" He snatched it from me and tried to run straight away. It didn't quite work, so I called him back.

"Okay, hold it up like this," I put the rope handle in his hand, angling his arm up. "I'll hold the tail and run behind you, okay?"

He nodded.

Music echoed throughout the woodlands, blaring from speakers and boomboxes set around the camp.

….I was doing something….

The featherweight touch of my fingers drummed against the top of my knee.

I glanced around and shifted in my seat restlessly. A surge of energy jittered underneath my skin, puppeteering my leg to rapidly bounce. There was a tightening knot of frustration building up in my chest and I sharply exhaled.

What was I doing…?

Four blissfully drunk teenagers happily stumbled passed me and I leaned back to avoid being hit by a stray hand when they slung their arms around each other and connected like a jagged centipede. They wavered from side to side as they attempted to stay up right, acting as though they were standing on slippery ice rather than the firm, hard ground coated with dirt and grass. A few discarded leaves from trees laid splattered, along with twigs and logs.

Laughter that reminded me of a donkey snorted out of a nearby boy sitting on a log opposite mine across the bon fire. His friend slapped his shoulder playfully, the corners of his eyes crinkled from his hazy glee and tears of joy leaked and splayed down his cheeks. An unattractive derisive snort grunted out of him.

A sigh huffed out of me. I arched forward and pressed the palm of my hand into my cheek. My eyes raised to the cackling flames. They danced and jumped in the slight breeze, popping and throwing a trail of smoke flowing up to the shadows of the sky.

There's… I was looking for someone….

Judging by the way people are moving to the music, it also apparently made them think it gave you mad dancing skills. Let me tell you, it doesn't. It definitely doesn't.

Most people here were either grinding up against each other, influenced to lose their inhibitions, dancing, chattering in a slobbish slur very loudly over the crap tunes coming out of someone's iPod. Some mundane, mainstream autotune-filled shit that had repetitive lyrics.

A spark suddenly licked the floor and the encased fire slinked to the floor, wrapping around itself like a rising python. It slowly approached me, lava-like venom dripping from it's maw. It released a high pitched hiss in my face. The background blurred to formless colours and black smears.

Run.

Flames were curling around me, screams from the teenagers ringing in my ears. I felt my breaths become laboured, a sharp sting from the suffocating smoke invaded my lungs. They started crawling up my legs. The blistering heat burned through my clothes, growing closer to my skin. I was looking for someone. I didn't know who. But I sprinted through the dim forest, my mud crusted feet pounding along the floor. In the corner of my vision there were shadows chasing me.

A familiar shape formed in one of them, sending a nostalgic wave through my body.

The person I'm looking for?

Frantic gasps and pants filtered through my burning chest. More yelling. Alarm bells went off like a giant gong. I lurched forward, pumping my arms either side of me.

I needed to go faster.

I was nearing a greenhouse, glass windows shattered, flames blackened the wood, debris sprawled to the ground. I kept my gaze on the rugged door. My shoulder slammed into the weak, hot wood. Distantly I heard a sickening crack, but ignored it and moved through the falling door.

I nearly toppled over at the sight in front of me.

It was one of the shadows. More deformed, taller. The creature was hunched over. I could hear disgusting slurping and crunching. It slowly turned around, craning its deformed neck to stare straight at me.

It's eyes were blood red, mouth filled with tiny, multiple incisors. It's big maw dripped with a crimson, syrup like substance and it fully spun to face me. It's face reminded me of a Picasso portrait with everything lopsided and despite it's distorted face, I could make out familiar features, which sent a trickle of ice down my spine.

"Dean." I choked.

"Your fault."

Nails on a chalkboard didn't even cover the high pitched octave that came from his mouth. His voice was like scraping metal, screeching like an out of pitch instrument. The sound brought me to my knees, mildly scratching them. My throat tightened, making it even more impossible to breathe. Something warm and wet leaked out of my ears, I dabbed at my skin and brought it up level with my eyes.

Blood.

I couldn't even get his name out, before it sliced through my voice with it's own.

"Your fault."

It was overwhelmingly loud, like a trombone next to my face.

"Dean."

My body trembled, as he slowly rose. Unfolding from beneath him were eight black legs, razor sharp talons for feet. He knelt, predatory gaze latched onto my small form. He's going to-

"YOUR FAULT!"

"Stay away!"

He… it, screeched, an unholy, inhuman shrieking sound that could never have been from the throat of a normal human. The world twisted, the walls began to bend as though they were rubber, the inferno roaring as they leapt at least fifteen feet in the air, a firestorm of unnatural proportions, almost as though they were being fueled by very air itself. The screams around me rose in pitch, almost a ghostly howl, spectral in nature.

"YOU DID THIS TO ME!"

It screamed. The voices around me screamed. It took me while before I realised I was screaming too. The wall of fire surrounding me collapsed inwards, burning and licking at my skin. A dark shadow loomed in the flames, claws extended as it fell towards me.

I leapt up from the bed, waving my hands in a vain attempt to ward off the apparitions. A giant crack, followed by what sounded like an explosion and the screams of what sounded like a young child. I found myself picked up and flung against a wall, my face and arms stinging with pain. A second later I slammed back first into a hard surface, knocking the air out of my lungs, turning my pained cry into a choked gasp.

Wh… what…?

The… thing, was gone, so was the woodlands party and the inferno that all but consumed me seconds ago. Instead I found myself back in a nondescript room, lying flat on the ground on my front, a ringing sound in my ears as my vision struggled to orientate itself, breathless and sweating. The same room I woke up in earlier, I realised, remembering my predicament, eyes widening in shock as I took in the scene before me.

Where was once a humble abode now looked as though a whirlwind had tore through it, tables and chairs lay broken at the corner of the room as though someone had violently flung them against the wall. An snuffed out oil lamp was lodged firmly in the wall, beside a broken dresser and cabinet. Beside me, the bed I slept on was laying on its side, its sheets torn and bits of straw sticking out of them.

Most of all, the smoking hole in the wall directly in front of me.

It was only when the ringing in my ears began to fade did I finally noticed the wailing, a heart wrenching sound torn from the throat of a child in distress. And pain. I turned, a soundless sob escaping from between my lips when I saw the small form tucked by the door, rocking back and forth and bleeding heavily from the head.

"Oh my...god," I crawled over to him, speaking barely above a whisper. "J...Jonathan?"

"N...no!" he cried, his voice ragged and feebly trying to crawl away from me. His hands were covered in scratches, a piece of splinter lodged in his left elbow. "Mama! Mama!"

"Please…" I tried to help him, wobbly getting up on my knees and gasping when I saw the full extent on his head injuries. The side of his head looked almost scalped, bits of skin and hair stuck on raw flesh, blood flowing copiously from the injury. "Oh my god. Shit. Don't move, okay? Stop-"

He continued to scream, his voice wracked with agony. "No! Go away! Mama! Maaaaa!"

It was the palpable fear in his voice that made me step back. His eyes stopped my heart. Wide and accusing, blood mixed with tears as they streaked down his cheeks, looking at me as though… I've done something terrible. "Mama! Papa!"

Did… did I do that?

The door slammed open. Yolande, dressed in a thin shift and holding a candle in her arms, staring at me in slack jawed horror. "Andraste help us…" she whispered. "What…"

Immediately I tried to tell her he needed a hospital. "Y-Yolan-!"

"Stay back!" she screamed, darting forward and shielded her son with her body, holding up a hand in my direction. In that hand, a knife. "Don't come any closer!"

My hands shot up and I stumbled back, choking. "I- I'm not trying to hurt you- he needs help-!"

"You've done enough!" she waved the knife in my direction, hands trembling violently and voice quivering despite her brave front. Her shift began to turn red as Jonathan's head continued to bleed onto her clothes. "Go away!"

"I...I…"

"Leave them alone!"

I turned and raised my hands on reflex. A bright flash of light. Then a body tumbled to the ground, chest charred and a woodcutting axe slipping from his now lifeless fingers. Yolande screamed.

I… did I just… oh god...

Outside, the bells from the village rang.

I turned and ran out through the hole I made in the wall as the first shouts began to echo in the distance.