A/N: Two things: One, I might re-write this chapter in the future. I'm not overly fond of some parts of it, but I'll be sure to make a note if/when I do re-write it.

Two, as a character development exercise, I've been doing little background one-shots for some of the characters. The first one I'll have up is the Cousland background, which should be posted in a couple days.

As always, thanks for reading! Suggestions/criticisms always appreciated!

And so begins the hunter's daring escape.

Her plans involve curling up and crying, waiting for a rescue, and glaring at her evil roommate. The hunter is the underdog; nobody expects her to win, not even herself.

Fiah and Kielle had been dumped in a small room inside the arl's estate. Shianni was taken to another room with Vaughn.

In a matter of minutes, Kielle had wriggled out of the ropes that bound her. She reached into her boot and pulled out a thin knife, cutting Fiah's ropes as well. "We have to get out of here."

"Right," Fiah scoffed. "Two unarmed women, dressed in formal attire, escaping from a heavily-guarded estate."

Kielle rushed forward, gathering the collar of Fiah's shirt in a fist and pulling her close. "We're two elves. One of us is unarmed," she seethed through gritted teeth, "and the other is prepared." Releasing Fiah, she added, "Start with the door. Pick the lock."

"I can't just pick the lock," Fiah groaned, crossing her arms.

"You've done it before." Kielle' green eyes were cold and challenging.

The hunter's dull companion seems to have picked up on her weekly raids of the humans' general store. Perhaps she also knows of the hunter's daring break-ins at the tavern. In a very sophisticated and marvelous manner, the hunter concedes and picks the lock. She is graceful. And marvelous.

"Done."

"Good."

"Alright."

Kielle glared at her. "You first."

Rolling her eyes, Fiah slipped through the door. Assuming the role of scout, she crept around the empty room. Slowly, she opened the door to the adjacent room and slithered around the tables.

The hunter seems to be in a sort of dining hall. Three guards are woefully unaware of the graceful, magnificent hunter. They appear to be playing cards. More silent and amazing than ever, the hunter moves through the room, undetected, making her way to—

The door that Fiah was headed towards slammed open, revealing Soris and Nelaros. Fiah slunk back behind a liquor cabinet in surprise, not wanting the guards to see her. Just as the guards scrambled to attention, Kielle appeared in the other doorway.

Jumping around the guard that lunged at him, Soris slid a greatsword between one of the rows of tables, right into Kielle's waiting hand. With a feral cry, she leapt at the guard nearest her and lopped his head off with one clean swipe. Soris, wielding his own sword, chased after a guard with a crossbow. When the guard finally fell, Fiah darted across the room and confiscated the bow. With a grunt, she flipped the body over and took the quiver, too.

The hunter is totally magnificent once more.

When Fiah stood and turned back towards the others, the first thing that caught her eye was Nelaros' still body. "Well, this rescue is going wonderfully." Noticing Soris' pallor, she added, "Let's get out of here before anyone else important is killed."

"Get out," Kielle ordered.

Soris shook his head, clutching the sword stubbornly. "I came to save Shianni."

"Let him stay," Fiah suggested. Not only did she feel safer with a third weapon in their group, she couldn't wait to give Kielle a smug "Ha, I win" smile.

Kielle scowled at Fiah, but set off down the hall without another word.

The hunter gives her dull companion her best "Ha, I win" smile. Hunter: 1. Dull companion: 0.

"Come on, Soris." Loading the crossbow, Fiah followed Kielle out. Soris stayed near her, his fearful breaths even louder than his clumsy footsteps.

The trio emerged into a hallway lined with small windows at the top of the walls. Fiah glanced up at the tiny openings, then focused on the guard that Kielle was charging. She clumsily shot a few arrows, not entirely comfortable using a crossbow. The guard fell and Kielle and Soris charged on.

Fiah made a snap decision. She'd been in this position once before—with her father, before he'd died—and she knew what she had to do to survive. Rescuing Shianni was a noble idea, but at the end of the day, Fiah was just a hunter who wanted to live to see the sun rise the next morning. "I can't stay for this," she called, dropping the bow and quiver. She had seen a chance to escape without putting her life in any more danger, and she intended to take advantage of that chance.

"You coward!" Kielle snarled, drawing her greatsword. "Do you have any idea what they could be doing to Shianni?"

"You're not helping her much by just standing around," Fiah pointed out, hiding her own disappointment in her cowardice with a cocky smile. Ignoring the wave of despair that veiled Soris' face, Fiah kicked open a door on the side of the hall and swung up onto the doorframe, clinging to the cold stone of the hall. Guards ran out of the room, but they were too late; Fiah leapt again, her fingers latching onto the window.

The hunter flees the battleground. The hunter is, in fact, a coward. Not even a marvelous coward. She values her own life above that of an innocent elf.

The hunter deserves whatever fate the guards and that bastard Vaughn can conjure up, but it doesn't matter. The hunter has already fled.

Fiah ran across the uneven rooftop, holding her arms wide out to help balance. Her mind worked furiously to figure out how she would get down, but her feet kept running. She finally found a watchtower, which would be her exit. Sprinting towards the stone tower, she slipped.

Crying out in surprise, Fiah landed hard on her left side and began sliding down the roof. She clawed at the roof, trying to find a hold, but to no avail. Desperately, she flailed around as she felt her feet slip off the edge. Her hands grasped the edge as the rest of her began tumbling to the ground, yanking her shoulders painfully.

The hunter is experiencing karma, and is reminded that excitement is a terrible thing.

Figuring she was relatively safe—as safe as one could be in her position—Fiah surveyed the ground below her, trying to find a way to control her drop to the dirt below. She was, luckily, in a back alleyway, and not in the city center, so she could hopefully remain unseen.

Spying a stack of crates to her left, she began slowly inching sideways, moving hand over hand, her legs swaying beneath her. Fiah was just a few inches away when her fingers began to ache. I'm going to die because I have weak fingers, she thought with a grimace. Wonderful.

Still, she decided to take the chance. She swung her legs to the left and rocketed forward, landing almost horizontally on the crates and sending them crashing to the ground. Fiah escaped with little more than sore fingers and a scrape on her elbow.

Satisfied, she made her way out of the alley and into the marketplace. Upon seeing her crate of wolf meat from that morning, she groaned. Maker. I can't step foot back in the Alienage. How am I supposed to get my money? Without money, she couldn't buy a new bow. Without a bow, she couldn't hunt. Without hunting, she couldn't earn any more money.

Should've kept the crossbow, you idiot.

Sighing, Fiah sauntered up to the merchant from earlier and gave him her most charming grin. "Hello, again," she greeted him. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to loan me a single sovereign?"

He crossed his arms, not amused. "In exchange for what?"

"I—uhh, I don't know. My shoes?" Fiah held her hands up, as in surrender. "Anything. I just need some money."

"No."

Undeterred, Fiah decided to find money elsewhere. She headed straight for the tavern. From there, it was a simple routine she had perfected: a little coin from the safebox in the back room, a little wine from the cabinet in the cellar, and a little more coin from the bar.

Fiah was able to slip in and out quickly, without anyone noticing. By the time she was done, she had sold the wine for three sovereigns a piece and had the six sovereigns she'd stolen. She picked up a simple set of armor, a thin bow, and some arrows before heading out of the city.

The guard at the gates stopped her, grabbing her wrist roughly and demanding, "Where's an elf like you going?"

Raising an eyebrow, Fiah tugged out of his grasp. "To the Dalish."

Life outside the city wasn't much different than life in the Alienage. The beds were uncomfortable, you could always see the stars, and drinking water came from the nearest ditch.

Fiah was able to do more walking than hunting. When she decided to stop for the night, she would usually try to get a fire started while she went out and hunted, typically bringing back small game like a rabbit or squirrel. Half was cooked and eaten, and half was cooked and saved.

Her mornings started similarly, with a quick hunt and fire. If a stream was nearby, Fiah would take a quick bath before starting up for the day. Mostly, though, she walked, trying to reach the Brecilian Forest from memories of maps she hadn't seen in ages.

On her second day, she passed a caravan traveling to the city. Fiah followed them for a bit, waiting for them to stop for lunch before she raided their goods. She was able to snatch some bread, a bowl, some water, and a coin purse, deciding to play it safe and duck back into the trees before anyone had a chance to see her.

As she climbed up a tree branch, she caught some of the group's conversation.

"They say its Loghain's fault," the leader, a short, chubby man, had remarked.

"Tactical retreat, I say," his partner growled. "That Loghain's a military genius. He knew that blasted King was no good."

"He knew the Grey Wardens would kill Cailan?" the first man shot back sarcastically.

"Maybe."

"Doesn't matter," the leader shrugged. "They're dead, aren't they? The Wardens, I mean."

At this, the partner chuckled gleefully. "If not, they will be soon. Loghain'll see to that."

Fiah settled into a more comfortable position, leaning her back against the tree trunk. The king dead and no one's sure who to blame. Grey Wardens, or Loghain. Or both? Grimacing, she wondered, Is this politics? She picked at her newly-confiscated bread thoughtfully, wondering what this meant for the elves.

Who's to take the throne, now?

I suppose the Dalish don't care, though.

With a sad sigh, Fiah grabbed her pack and dropped stealthily to the forest floor. She wanted to get to the Dalish camp soon, and that meant she didn't have time to worry about the humans' politics. The worries that refused to slip her mind, though, were those of Shianni and the other elves. In the days she had spent walking, she'd had plenty of time to consider exactly what her motives had been.

Fiah had always had a bit too much pride – and she knew it. In the arl's estate, though, she had known there was no way out. Kielle could fight, sure. But Fiah? She was just a hunter who scraped a living out by selling meat and stealing coin. In the shadows, she felt invincible, but out in the open…

She shivered. She knew exactly what fate she had left the other elves to, and the guilt chilled her to the bone.

And now, she was running away from it. Sure, she could disguise it by claiming she was just going to the Dalish like she'd always dreamed, but Fiah knew otherwise. She was a coward. For the second time in her life, she'd run away to save herself at the expensive of someone else's life.

The hunter trudges on, haunted by her past. More haunting, though, is that she knows she'll push it all away, and carry on like it never happened. Stealing, manipulating, and surviving.

This is how the hunter truly lives. She isn't a hunter, really. She's a rogue.

And a damn good one. In fact, I'd call her marvelous.