When Hawke's mind drifted slowly back into consciousness, it was much clearer than it had been before. Her side still hurt, but that was to be expected. Though she hadn't had the chance to properly inspect it, she'd had enough bad scrapes and bruises to know that this one had been bad, but not bad enough that it would not heal. And, in the worst case scenario, she could always use her magic to speed the healing process along. But that would have to wait until she knew where she was. Hawke was hardly reckless enough to start casting magic without checking her surroundings thoroughly. She wasn't going to be the fool apostate that got herself shipped off to the Circle for using magic in the middle of the Chantry or some such place. That just left the question of where she was exactly. This time she knew better than to open her eyes upon waking and instead continued to feign sleep. Her body ached to move but she made no motion that would give herself away.

Is it safe? She asked that question a thousand times in her mind, waiting for the Whisper to return to her with an answer. Silence was all that answered back. Hawke wondered if that Whisper had just been a figment of her imagination; some fevered dream called on to make the strange room somewhat less unnerving. There was still a nagging feeling that made her want to believe that the Whisper was real. Hawke didn't know why she needed that, but the thought of being alone weighed heavy on her mind. She could handle any number of things, but she didn't know that she would ever be much good at being alone. Maybe now she would have to learn. The thought didn't sit well with her. What she really needed to do now was to find her mother and siblings. She didn't need someone to take care of her, she could take care of herself; she needed someone to take care of.

The Whisper still had not responded. Whether it was real or not, it seemed to know no more about what lay outside her eyelids than she herself. All she knew was that the room was dark but that could have been the work of the dark or of curtains. And she knew that it was warm, uncomfortably so. Is it safe? She asked one more time. Once again she was received with nothing but silence. It seemed that there was nothing to do but to see for herself. For a moment, Hawke considered opening her eyes daringly to face whatever was before her, but she did not trust her physical condition enough to do that. She was in no state to preform enough magic to protect herself, especially in an unknown location. And she liked to think she was craftier than that.

After a minute of deliberating and working up the nerve—which grew easier the warmer it got—Hawke finally decided to try. It was in no way a foolproof plan or even much of a plan in general, but she hoped that it would at least tell her something. Taking in a deeper than normal breath, Hawke shifted obviously in the bed, keeping her eyes closed. She schooled her breathing patterns back to mimic sleeping ones and waited, her heart thumping wildly in her chest and possibly making the whole plan moot. Still, she listened, and she heard nothing. That was it, she told herself. It was now or never. Still she did not move. Another moment of listening, she told herself. Just one. And then another. One more. Finally, feeling the sweat on her legs tangling uncomfortably in the sheets and her body craving to stretch, Hawke gave in. Her eyes popped open, looking up at the same bed canopy she had before. It was not green.

Figuring that it was too late to turn back now whatever happened, and not hearing a single sound—she would have expected some kind of gasp or alarm—Hawke smiled to herself. It was safe. Pushing herself up with her palms was less painful this time and she sat upright in the bed, only pausing to rub her side slightly. She was looking straight ahead at the door. As confident as she was in her security, she did not want to turn her head. Hawke berated herself as a fool for that hesitation. For all she knew he was sleeping again. If he was here at all. Looking down at her knees covered by the blanket, Hawke closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. And then, finally, she looked. She hadn't noticed before that his eyes were green.

How he had maintained that perfect silence, Hawke couldn't say. She must have waited what felt like twenty minutes but must have been at least five. And yet he had not gasped or called out or so much as said a word to her. His eyes were wide; they were disbelieving. Hers probably looked the same. He was not frowning at her, she noticed then. He hadn't been frowning since she'd looked over at him. All she had seen was a face awash with surprise. It made her nervous. If he had been frowning, she would have at least had some kind of certainty about her situation. His expression was open and revealing, and yet she couldn't make anything from it.

"Fen…ris?" she asked, her croaked voice making it sound more broken than it would have normally. She could still remember his name from before and Hawke could think of no other way to break his trance. To her astonishment, the elf smiled. The expression was lost to her as he swiftly turned out of his seat and moved to the wall. Hawke's expression melted from shock to confusion. With his back to her, she could see nothing of what he was doing. Though she had felt comfort from this man before, now she just felt wary. She remembered the sight of his great sword and she knew full well that she was in no state to fight him off, especially without a staff. And that was when she began to wonder where her staff was. Clearly it would have marked her as a mage immediately. And there was little compassion in the world for mages. Perhaps it had been lost before she'd been found. Or it was possible that this was all a trick. Some new Templar game. Did she believe that? Not really. Maybe they'd run all the way to Tevinter. Though the stories around the Imperium didn't line up with the treatment she'd been given. And did they have dwarves in Tevinter? She wasn't so sure about that.

"Drink," the quiet baritone voice commanded. Hawke shook herself from her musings to find a glass of water under her nose and the elf bent in front of her, his expression had slipped back into the much less confusing frown. Yet, looking into his eyes, Hawke faltered. She had seen plenty of hate and cruelty from people before, but his eyes were—though not soft—not threatening. For a moment she wondered if his word had been a commandment at all. His gaze flashed down to the glass before meeting her gaze again. He seemed at a loss. Sensing it was safest to take the offered drink, she did, wrapping her hands around the cool glass. The liquid in it looked inviting and Hawke wanted nothing more to drink, but she had no guarantee that the clear liquid inside was really water. If she had known where she was or where her family was or even if she knew that she had an escape route, Hawke would never have hesitated. It was the pressing uncertainty that kept her hesitating. It was almost as if she made one wrong move and she would never get to see her family again. She wasn't sure where that idea came from, but it was a chilling one. The elf's gaze was growing harder.

"Drink," he repeated, this time clearly a command. She took a little, pretend sip to pacify him. It seemed to work. He nodded and cast his gaze to the door before looking back at her. There was no saying what he was deliberating, but it seemed that one thought had won over and he straightened up. "I shall return," he told her, taking a step towards the door before pausing and looking back at her. "Wait for me," he said, though it was almost as if he was asking it of her. Unable to think of a proper reply, she just nodded. For a moment, Hawke almost thought that he would smile again. But then he was gone, out of the door and—from the sound of it—running down the hall. She raised her eyebrows at the place where he had been.

Now was the time for answers. Hawke placed the full glass down on the nightstand and pushed her way out of bed slowly. The blanket half slid off the bed with her, but she could not bring herself to care. Walking would be a chore with the pain in her side, but her head was clear enough that maybe she could think her way out of here. Shuffling stiffly to the window, Hawke tried to push it open. It was no use. But she could still peer outside it. The houses around this one all seemed equally large and impressive as she was assuming this one was. Certainly not the sort of places owned by elves. Maybe the dwarf was the owner. Or perhaps one of the others. She remembered that an Isabela had been mentioned. And a Bianca. It could be owned by one of them. Hawke supposed that she would find out in due time. It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to go. She did not recognize the street and she remembered enough of the blight to know that Lothering was long gone. How long gone? Hawke couldn't say. They could have been on the run for a few weeks or even a few years. She wasn't sure which was the more comforting thought. A few weeks would have never put them far enough away from the darkspawn or given them enough coin or standing to get her into this room without some very harrowing sacrifices having to be made. But the thought of having forgotten years… Hawke didn't know if she could find it in herself to be okay with that thought.

This time her thoughts were interrupted with more warning as the sounds of heavy running feet—booted clearly and not those of Fenris—came racing up stairs and growing closer ever second. She turned in time to see another man standing in the doorway, the feathers of his armor ruffled and matted and dark circles under his eyes. The eyes that Hawke watched look towards the bed and then follow the trail of blankets towards where she stood, her hands clutching tightly to the windowsill as she pressed her body back into it. Like Fenris, the man looked at her with astonishment as though the sight of her was the most surprising—and perhaps wonderful?—thing that could been seen. When he took a step towards her, Hawke tried to press back harder to the window without it being noticeable.

Hawke forced a smile. She had always found smiling to be a good way to get out of complex situations. It didn't matter on the situation. When being threatened, smiles were a show of strength and could put opponents off their guard. When making deals it was always easier to distract with a smile while lying and stealing your way to a better price. And so, still not sure what this situation was, she smiled. Even in hindsight she couldn't say if that was a bad move or not.

The hug had taken her off guard. It was sudden and desperate and Hawke had no idea what to do with her hands as he clung to her tightly. She supposed that she ought to be hugging him back… whoever he was. Before she had a chance, however, a strong hand appeared on the human's shoulders and Hawke found herself free again. She looked around in confusion before her eyes lighted on Fenris who was glowering fiercely at the other man.

"She is not well," Fenris stated, his eyes shifting to look at her with a mild disapproval. Hawke didn't even know what she had done. It wasn't as if she had initiated the hug. For a fleeting moment she wondered if he was jealous and took stock of the two men standing together. That would be an investigation that would have to wait, however. The hand disappeared off of the man's shoulders and they were both looking at her. Hawke was never one to mind being put on the spot, but without her memories she felt as though she was asked to fight a dragon without her staff. Or any clothing. As they continued staring, she looked down at herself in confusion.

"What? Did I spill something on myself?" she asked at last, making a show of looking. She had no idea of they would appreciate her glib tongue. Judging from the reactions she had gotten from them, it was a risk she was willing to take. They were still staring at her. Hawke shrugged. "Anyone ever tell you that you guys are pretty strange?" she asked. After a hug, Hawke felt safe enough that she wasn't about to be attacked. It didn't mean that she trusted either of them, but they'd given her no reason not to. Yet. The man who had hugged her actually laughed.

"Two weeks out and the first thing she does when she wakes up is start making jokes." He was laughing as he said this.

"Hopefully they'll get better when the head trauma goes away," came the jovial voice of the dwarf from the door. "Or else she'll be as bad as Broody." Hawke had turned her head quickly towards the door, an action that caused her head to spin a little. With one hand gripping the windowsill for support, she lifted her freehand to her head. She had noticed Fenris glare at the smug looking dwarf, but the dwarf—like the others had been before—seemed focused on her.

"What's wrong? Your head? Sit down, Hawke." The human had gone into a flurry of activity once she'd shown signs of her discomfort and she'd allowed herself to be pushed gently back to sit on the bed. She had flinched when his hands had started combing through her hair, ignoring his stream of 'I'm sorry's and 'does it hurt?'. He was only apologizing for hurting her, she noticed, and that was not why she had flinched. To be honest, Hawke couldn't say why she had flinched. There had not been one sign that she was in any kind of danger. In fact these people all seemed much more attentive than they would if she had been even a stranger, let alone an enemy. And they knew her name. At first it had slid right past her, but she rewound his words in her head as she tried to make sense of it all. And, though very little made sense, it did not seem dangerous.

'You are in danger,' the Whisper contradicted, returning when Hawke had long forgotten about it. She felt a little irked that it had not been there before at any time, especially when she was specifically asking it for help. But the soothing Whisper was hard to dislike and Hawke found herself forgiving it. What kind of danger could she possibly be in? The elf was dangerous, she could tell that instantly, but the human seemed about as threatening as a kitten. She had yet to make up her mind about the dwarf. His smiles and jokes made him hard to fear, but Hawke could swear that the thing slung across his back was a crossbow. And with a crossbow like that, he had to know how to use it.

'Your memories,' came the whisper. 'They were stolen. They were stolen on the night you died.' Hawke gasped. She could hear another long string of apologies coming from the man who was still checking he head, but Hawke couldn't have found it in herself to care less. She paid no attention to what the others were doing, instead closing her eyes and devoting everything she had to listening. There had to be an explanation for this. After all, she wasn't dead. 'You were brought back, I do not know how.' Hawke's eyes open and she stared fixedly at the wall in front of her and ignored the chatter around her. She just needed to know one thing, even if she doubted how much it would help her right then.

"Who?" she whispered to herself, feeling the need to say the word aloud.

"Aveline. You know, the human battering ram? The woman who can run six miles carrying a cow over her head." The dwarf's tone was light as Hawke was already expecting was the norm. Hopefully her soft grunt counted as a response. She hadn't heard a thing he'd said before, her thoughts all focused on the real answer she wanted.

'I do not know,' the Whisper told her, tone laced with regret and sympathy that made any misgivings about it flutter away. 'Someone you trusted. Someone that may not look kindly on the fact you live.' Hawke's eyes raised from their fixed spot on the wall and straight into the green eyes of Fenris. They were unreadable. She then shifted her gaze to the cheery dwarf, but Hawke knew better than most how many things could be hidden behind a smile. Lastly her eyes slid sideways to look at the man still fussing over her health. She did not know these men. And, though it might be more comforting, it was hard to assume their friendship with the knowledge that she'd just gained. Maybe the Whisper was right. Maybe she really did have just one friend.

'Be careful, Hawke. Now more than ever before, you are in danger.'