"Wait a little bit," Rosalyn exasperated under her breath. "We've been walking nonstop for a few days now," She looked to her white haired companion that was more than few paces ahead of her. He took two more steps before coming to complete halt. Turning his head to her direction, his hardened expression became slightly softer as he noticed that she was as not as strong as she appeared on the outside.

"How would the people of Kirkwall see their Champion now; knowing that you are not invincible?" he questioned in a joking manner, but still came off as serious.

"I never asked for that title," Rosalyn barked back while taking a seat on a moss covered rock. She searched the horizon looking for any noticeable landmarks that looked familiar from her past. To her dismay her mental map was no longer useful to her. The entire landscape had changed over the years due to the Blight, or just nature itself. Admitting her defeat mentally she pulled a small satchel from her side, sifting through the remaining coin she managed to save before mysteriously taking off from Kirkwall. With their reserves getting low, it would only be a matter of time before their food reserves began to disappear.

"Hawke," her companion spoke with moderate authority. "Are we lost?"

Rosalyn shot a quick glance to his direction, "Doubting my survival skills, Fenris?" she asked lightheartedly.

"It's not that, it's just that we've passed his area a few times already."

Hawke's eyes widened as she rapidly began to sort through the grass bearing moistened dirt looking for fresh footprints. If her behavior and surprised expression didn't set off any bells in Fenris' head at the moment it was only to save face of not being admit his love for seeing Rosalyn be completely vulnerable.

"You should have bought that map at the last town we visited," he firmly stated while walking to her side.

"I just thought I'd remember my way from Kirkwall back to Denerim at least," She whispered under her breath still frantically searching the ground.

Fenris laid his sword down to the ground, taking a sit next to Hawke. "You're just tired," he places his hand on top of her hands. "Let's camp here."

"Fenris," Hawke smirked. "When did you become so caring?"

"I… You just look tired from all the walking. That's all."

"Uh huh," she smiled as Fenris turned his head to hide his embarrassment of being caught in a slightly compromising position. "Who's vulnerable now?" she asked sarcastically as she returned to her normal demeanor.

"Camp. Is here. Tonight." He quickly blurted out.

Rosalyn reached in their shared pack pulling out a neatly folded tent, at the same time Fenris browsed the flat ground looking for tinder for a fire. With the tent almost complete, a small thud sound from behind her back. Thinking nothing of it she continued to making final touches to their tent for the night. With the tent complete, she exited hoping that the dull sound was the sound of wood being dropped to the ground. What she didn't expect was to find an unconscious blonde haired elf sprawled on the ground.

"From one thing to another it seems," she sighed with disbelief while rubbing her eyebrows in discomfort. She felt the elf's wrist and side of his neck searching for a pulse. Luckily, he was not on his way to the Maker. Eyeing the elf's body it seemed that he had simply fainted, but something about this elf was familiar; as if Rosalyn had met him somewhere in her frequent travels along the Wounded Coast. She carefully turned him onto his back. The left side of his face bared a strikingly recognizable slender tattoo.

"The assassin," Fenris returned with a bundle of wood in his arms, and a scowl on his face. "Kill him."

"No need to jump to conclsions."

"He has appeared one too many times," Fenris dropped the wood to his feet. "And he has a record for being caught."

"I wouldn't want the Warden coming after us once she finds out I killed her friend," she glanced at Fenris' now glowing hand. "A second chance wouldn't hurt."

"Third chance."

Hawke had managed to calm Fenris down from his small fit of underlying rage. If there was one thing she could do well was keep his anger at bay with a reasonable tone. Fenris kept his eyes on the enemy while watching Hawke try to nurse him back to consciousness all while prepping the campfire. With the sun now setting and the would-be assassin still not waking up anytime soon, Fenris retired into the tent leaving Rosalyn to tend to her patient. The tattooed elf's fingers twitched abruptly as soon as Fenris was out of sight. Relieved, Rosalyn placed his head on her lap to offer him the remaining water she could spare.

"Oh, thank you," he spoke in his strong Antivan accent. "And may I say that your legs are as soft as I imagined. No, softer than other legs I've been given the opportunity to touch."

Considerably embarrassed, Hawke abruptly stood up knocking her now lucid patient's head to the soil. "Let's work on not getting you killed, yes?"

"Don't worry, Champion, I'm not here to kill or steal you away from your… friend." He gathered his balance letting out a small chuckle. "As you remember, I'm an occasional assassin."

"What is your business with me?" A hint of intrigue escaped her lips.

"Replace what I've lost of course," the assassin smirked and raised a brow.

"Not interested," Hawke coldly turned down his advance."

"Well, it was worth a try. Anyway, I'm here because you've been given audience in Denerim."

"Denerim? From the king."

Zeveran laughed. "Oh no, not the king. I doubt he'd order my services."

"Then who would request to see me in Denerim besides the king?" Rosalyn was getting mildly annoyed at Zevran's trivial mind games.

"My worthy lady, you've been in Kirkwall too long. His wife of course!"

Shocked, Hawke searched for any hint of lie in his voice. Zevran may have been a failed assassin that excelled at being a failed assassin, but she could see the truthfulness in his expression and soft charming eyes. "If the queen truly wanted to see me she could have made and appearance in Kirkwall."

"You know royalty, travelling together would make them easy targets.

Rosalyn squinted her eyes in disapproval. "Who would try to kill a grey warden?"

"Ohoho, that is where I have you."

"What?"

"I may have tried to kill her, but being the loving and tender person she is; she spared me," he sighed lightly. "Someone I can never truly forget."

"Sounds like there are some feelings there."

"Indeed," he smiled. "Well, my job is done here." He stood dusting of his leather pants. "She should still be in Denerim on the throne near Alistair. They are quite inseparable, after all," he pulled out a creased scroll from his pocket. "A good rogue always travels with a map."

"A good assassin always kills his target," Hawke retorted.

"An excellent assassin is a master of disguise."

"Touché," Hawke nodded in agreement as Zevran disappeared into the night as soon as he appeared. Glancing at the map she recently acquired she now had their current location: the outskirts of Amarantine and the Bannorn. So close to their destination, yet so far off. With the remainder of the night left Rosalyn turned in to get much needed sleep.