"Why are we stopping here?"
"This is Lothering, Alistair. We're going to stock up on supplies and stay here for the night."
"We're going to be here all day?" Alistair dropped his end of the garment that the maid had been stitching and peered out the front of the carriage.
She shot him a cross look. "The day's already half over, and I'm sure you'll have a grand old time running around causing trouble while I'm mending the arlessa's dress."
"I'm sorry, Jenny." Alistair pouted, but his eyes betrayed a smile.
Jenny shook her head, her frown breaking into a smile to match. "Oh, don't give me that." She folded up the dress, putting it to the side. "Come along, make yourself useful and let's start unloading the other carriage."
Jenny was one of Alistair's favorite maids, mostly because he was one of her favorites as well. She used to work as a cleaning girl in the kitchens, and always found a spare piece of cheese or cake for Alistair when he came running by. As of late she had been promoted, and tended personally to the arl and arlessa's quarters and belongings. Apparently, she had been doing so well that they saw fit to bring her along on this trip.
She hustled Alistair out of the carriage, and he scurried ahead to the next one.
The arl and his wife were standing and stretching their legs as the other maid, Maura, flitted about grabbing bundles of traveling supplies. Some of them seemed to carry the telltale aroma of a young infant. That would be Connor- yes, the other little bundle cradled in Isolde's arms.
"Anything we can take off your hands, Maura?" Jenny asked, catching up with Alistair.
Eamon glanced over, straightening his tunic. "Ah, there's our little troublemaker," he announced with a tempered smile. Isolde looked over her shoulder.
"He won't be making any trouble today, ser," Jenny answered. She lifted one of the bags piled in the back of the carriage, testing its weight, and handed it over to Alistair. It was light, but it was almost as big as he was.
Alistair stumbled beneath its mass. "Where are we going to stay, Arl Eamon?"
"There's an inn here with some decent private rooms, I believe." The arl tapped his chin in contemplation. Isolde glanced around the dusty village, her lip curling slightly.
"In fact," Eamon continued, "we don't need to bring everything in just yet. We'll have someone take care of it after we're settled in. It's been a long day, hasn't it, love?"
The arlessa sighed through her nose. "Yes, let us lie down for a while. And see if they can prepare a light meal for us." She bounced Connor, who was beginning to stir.
"I'll see what I can do. Come along and let's make the arrangements." Eamon stepped out of the carriage, offering his hand to Isolde, who hopped gingerly onto the ground.
"Do I put this back?" Alistair asked Jenny, barely able to see over the large bag in his arms.
The arl chortled. "Alistair, why don't you… run along and play for a bit. I think we've got everything taken care of here."
Jenny reclaimed the sack from Alistair and placed it among the others again. She shot him a look over her shoulder: affectionate, but mildly accusatory.
Alistair frowned. "I thought you said-"
"The arl and arlessa are tired, Alistair," Jenny whispered, taking him aside. "They're going to want you out of their hair for a bit. Go and have your fun. Just don't wander too far from the village." She sent him off with a firm pat on the back, and followed the rest of the entourage into the inn.
Lothering. It was the first real town Alistair could recall visiting, other than Redcliffe. Not as big, but a bit greener in the summer air. There were a few villagers milling about, leaning against the side of a house and gossiping, or pulling a cart of vegetables over the little bridge. No children to be seen, though.
He set out in the direction of the bridge. On the other side there was a walled-in chantry with a chanter standing outside reciting the usual verses, some more houses, an old man sitting against a fence and yelling at passersby…
"Found you!" a voice shouted from behind him.
Alistair turned around. There was a little moppet of a girl standing there, plainly dressed, her hair sticking up in a ponytail that bobbed up and down as she bounced on her toes. She looked only a bit younger than himself.
Upon seeing his face, the girl's eyes widened. "Oh… never mind. You're not… I thought you were somebody I knew."
"Who were you looking for?" Alistair asked.
"We're playing hide and seek." The girl cast her eyes around the village behind him, evidently not wanting to miss any small movements. "I thought you were this boy Harold. You have almost the same hair…" she said, although she seemed a bit unsure now.
Alistair shrugged. "Can I play with you? My name's Alistair."
"Okay. I'm Bethany," she answered, offering a little hand. He shook it. "Where are you from? I haven't seen you before."
"Redcliffe. We're just passing through for the night."
"Ohhh, Redcliffe! That's far, isn't it?"
Alistair scratched his head. "I don't know. We've been on the road for four days."
Bethany's eyes widened with a guarded curiosity. "Where are you going?"
"Uh, Denerim." Alistair didn't want to get too much into this conversation. First he'd have to explain about the arl, and the baby, and no, he was just a stable boy who stowed away, and…
"Wow, you're lucky. I've never been out of Lothering." Bethany glanced in the direction of the Imperial Highway for a moment, then shook her head. "Come on, you can help me find the others."
"How many others are there?"
"There's four. Harold, Allison, Peaches, and my brother Carver. He's really loud, so we might find him first. Let's look over here," Bethany called, heading toward the northern end of the chantry.
Alistair somewhat disliked being around chantries, especially with the mildly disapproving gaze of the templar at the door hanging over him. Bethany, too, seemed to tread more lightly, almost keeping to the wall to avoid being seen. But, he supposed, it was wise to be stealthy when hunting for the hiders.
The two hopped along the stones on the riverbank, made it to the rear wall and peered around the corner. The sisters and brothers of the chantry were tending the garden, sprinkling water on the sun-dried plants, but there was no sign of the objective.
Then, from the woods behind them, a snapping sound. Alistair turned around.
It wasn't much, but for half a second, he swore he saw a silhouette disappearing behind a tree. He looked at Bethany, whose arms were crossed in frustration.
"If that's Carver, he's got it coming." She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted: "Is someone there? Come out of there! You're not supposed to go in the woods!"
There was no response.
Bethany frowned. "…Maybe it was just an animal."
"No, it was too big. I saw it." Alistair jumped down the little bank between the chantry and the woods. "Let's go look."
"You're going in there?"
"It's not very far in. You could still see the chantry just fine from there."
"You go ahead, then… I'll stay and watch." Bethany folded her arms again, glancing nervously behind her.
The tree in question was several yards down the river and just thick enough to hide a medium-sized child. The woods here weren't too thick just yet; it was a few miles north of what could be considered the true beginning of the southern forests. Alistair stepped carefully between the rocks and fallen branches, trying not to make too much noise, but he was no master of stealth.
When he reached the tree and walked in a circle around it, there was no one there save for a brown caterpillar inching up the trunk.
He looked back in the direction from which he had come; Bethany was a little shadow bouncing against the backdrop of the rear of the chantry, framed by the forest's canopy.
Another sound came from close by, a bit deeper in and further from the burbling river. Alistair didn't catch a glimpse of it this time, but it sounded like it could be a person. He looked over at Bethany again and took a few steps toward it.
When he was close, he broke into a dash and swung around the other side of the tree. There was a girl there. A plump girl in peasant's clothes, with red-blonde ringlets springing from her head in all directions.
"Who are you? You weren't playing." She looked rather annoyed at being caught.
"I am now. I'm Alistair." Alistair looked back over his shoulder again. "Bethany said you're not supposed to go in the woods."
"I wasn't here all along! I was… behind the chantry, but then I heard you two coming and I had nowhere else to go, so…"
"Well, we've found you now. Which one are you?" Alistair bit his lip. "I mean, what's your name?"
"It's-"
"Peaches!" Bethany accused, picking her way through the fallen leaves (and tripping over her skirt twice.)
The girl called Peaches pouted. "Bethany, he's not allowed to help you look! That's not fair!"
"It's not fair to hide in the woods, either," Bethany retorted, straightening her skirt. "We told you last time it's against the rules."
"Well, we're even then." Peaches sniffed.
A tree branch shook overhead, which made Bethany jump.
"L-let's go back now," she said. "Mother says it's not safe out here."
Peaches looked up and scoffed. "It's just a bird."
"We need to go back anyway. Let's-"
There were loud footsteps coming from behind them. "There you are," a voice grumbled.
It was a boy about Alistair's age; skinny, and by his coloring and the way he was addressing Bethany, likely the brother she had mentioned.
Sure enough: "Carver," Bethany called him. "You're supposedto hide."
"You're supposedto stay in the town," he retorted. "I was hiding, but you walked right past me, and then I saw you going over here. And who's this?"
"I'm Alistair," Alistair offered helpfully.
"All right. Now come back, Bethany. If you get eaten by wolves, Mother and Father are going to kill me. To say nothing of-"
"We were already going back." Bethany bowed her fingers, checking her surroundings for the alleged wolves.
"You too, Peaches," Carver ordered. Apparently, he could take or leave Alistair. Peaches gave a compliant nod.
The tree branch overhead rustled again. Alistair looked up, but he couldn't see the bird that Peaches had mentioned. Going by the sudden shaking of the branch next to it, it must be doing quite a bit of moving around.
Carver grabbed Bethany by the arm. "Let's go."
As if on cue, the bird came swooping down from the tree and hopping about madly with little squawks. Its feathers were black and disheveled- like a raven's, maybe, but smaller.
Peaches screamed and ran for the chantry. Bethany followed quickly, walking backward, her face twisted with alarm.
It was down to Alistair, the bird, and Carver, who was backing away with his hand hovering in front of him as if holding an invisible weapon, and kept looking back and forth between the other two. With a great and clumsy flapping, the bird resumed its perch overhead.
"…It is just a bird," Alistair pointed out.
Carver was squinting past him at the tree above. All at once, there was a very loud noise and a frantic creaking of branches. Alistair turned to look, and-
The branch was still swaying, but the bird was gone. A few black feathers, however, were fluttering to the ground.
Alistair looked back at Carver. "Hey, what just-" he began. The other boy was running like mad toward the village. Well, so much for that.
The strange noises and happenings were a bit creepy, he supposed, but nothing to get so worked up about. What did these kids think was out here? Trolls? Witches? Darkspawn? He picked up one of the fallen feathers, turned it over a few times, then shrugged and started back toward the chantry.
Someone snickered.
The little hairs on the back of Alistair's neck stood up as he turned around. Nothing in the tree… but two of the limbs were creaking, swaying in a way that couldn't be attributed to the breeze even on a windy day.
Okay. Leaving now, for real this time. Alistair turned toward the village again, and- CRASH!
There was a child-sized lump of black and brown lying beneath the tree, folded up in a pile of leaves.
The lump straightened itself up, brushed itself off somewhat. It had yellow, owlish eyes, staring at Alistair with unreadable intent.
"Um-" Alistair began.
It ran its fingers through its hair, dislodging several feathers. "Hello," the… thing, person, girl said.
"…Hi," Alistair said back.