Explosions...on the day you wake up
Needing somebody and you've learned
It's okay to be afraid.
But it will never be the same.

- Explosions by Ellie Goulding

In the inky blackness that followed the flash of light, I was being cradled in strong arms. The world outside them did not quite seem to matter. There existed no fear, no pain, no time.

I'm so sorry…

Cerwynn Mahariel came to inside the relative darkness of an aravel, the otherwise colorful canvas ceiling obscured in shadows coming in and out of focus above her, feeling utterly drained. She tried to at least get her eyes to focus enough to take in her surroundings, but they remained too heavy for her to keep them open long.

By the Dread Wolf, what happened?

Her head was swimming and Cerwynn briefly wondered if she'd hit it during the hunt earlier. She did remember going out into the forest at noon to investigate the game trails surrounding our camp, but they'd found something else instead…

Nothing.

She groaned. You've got to be kidding me.

Outside the aravel something moved in reaction to Cerwynn's frustration: a quick dash of light feet over the forest floor, and a child's voice, high-pitched in its excitement.

"Hahren, hahren, Cerwynn's awake!"

What followed was a veritable stampede of feet in the direction of the aravel and suddenly she felt very small and breakable inside her bed-roll. This must be how a baby tortoise felt just before the first great waves scooped him up and carried them away to sea. Cerwynn curled deeper inside her bedroll and braced herself for the inevitable onslaught. She keenly missed the comfort the dreams had offered.

Those had been nice, she thought forlornly.

Wait a minute…

I'm so sorry. There had been that voice. A man's, somehow distinctly human-sounding, but that was ridiculous. No way the hunters would have let a shemlen venture so close to the camp.

"Please step back. Your clan-mate is probably still disoriented."

Cerwynn blinked. Or not.

"What do you know, shemlen?" Ah, Ashelle, you wonderful mother-hen. She could just picture her nervously pacing around the aravel, her hands just a few seconds away from ruining the bun in her hair.

The voice from her 'dreams' answered in that same comforting tone he'd used on Cerwynn: "I don't want to interfere, madam." She scoffed. Oh, he was good. "But circumstances force me to put your general welfare above a quick reunion."

"He is right, lethallan," The Keeper joined in, her voice ever a fortress of sage advice. "I may have subdued the Cerwynn's ailment successfully with the old magic, but that still leaves us with the question of what exactly she was up against. I won't risk anyone else to it until I have my answer."

Okay, definitely no head-hitting then, but she still didn't feel sick…

The side of the aravel opened to admit Keeper Marethari inside. Before the canvas fell back closed behind her, Cerwynn could just catch a glimpse of two figures standing guard outside. The voice must belong to the tall one, his broader build unmistakably human. The other… Was that Fenarel?

"I'm glad to see you awake, da'len." Keeper Marethari greeted her softly. Cerwynn gave up on identifying the now shadow-figures behind the canvas to look her in the eye. Maybe they would hold the sense that was so clearly missing in this situation. They were grave.

"What happened, hahren?" Her voice croaked from disuse – which probably made her sound like an angry frog – but at least getting herself upright took a lot less effort.

"An awful lot, da'len," Marethari offered her a cup of water from a side-board. "Perhaps more than I feel comfortable burdening you with."

Cerwynn downed the water in one go and sighed in relief when the parchedness of her throat was assuaged. "I must confess I'm missing out on a whole sequence of events, Keeper. That might be a god place to start."

Marethari's frown grew. "This complicates things. I thought you might at least remember what happened to Tamlen, since he's still missing."

Hearing his name made her heart go heavy with dread. It's ice-cold grip reminded her of something, or rather someplace she'd been before. A flash of old stone hallways, an elvish temple but at the same time not, corpses clawing their way up from the ground…

The Mirror.

Oh no, Tamlen…

She must have made some noise in my distress, because the Keeper moved to hold me faster than a cobra striking its prey. Her hand soothed my hair.

"Take your time, da'len. You've earned it."

Cerwynn opened my mouth to reassure her, but instead the truth came tumbling out.

"I think he might be dead."

And she told her everything.

[xxx]

It was credit to Keeper Marethari's abilities that she had her up and about in just a few hours. Cerwynn's headache had disappeared after a few potions, but all discomfort seemed to have taken up residence in my heart. All my thoughts – my guilt – went to Tamlen and his uncertain fate.

Honestly, she'd wanted to confront her mysterious rescuer – a Grey Warden named Duncan, Marethari had informed her – about his knowledge of Tamlen's disappearance, but the warden had already left the camp. Soon she too would set off for the apparently Darkspawn-infested ruins in my search, as soon as she'd convinced Marethari she was stable enough.

Cerwynn's tour of camp had been fruitful so far: a new bow slung across her back and a fine pair of Grey Iron daggers at her side. Ilen had been reluctant to hand them over, even went so far as to try to distract her with a fancy story about a family heirloom. Nice try, but ultimately irrelevant to her resolve. (He did get the attention of their newest clan-mate, however, but Pol seemed easily excited.)

She slinked past Elder Paivel next, his voice easily carrying the ancient tale of the downfall throughout the glade. When Cerwynn was younger she'd enjoyed those maybe a bit too much, because they now left her rather devoid of pride. Tales of past glory didn't keep you alive out in the wild, adaption did. Luckily for her, Elder Paivel was satisfied with glaring holes in her back.

She swiftly continued on to the lower bonfire glade to face the inevitable: her surrogate mother. Ashelle was at her usual place, standing close to the fire, softly talking with the other gathered women.

Cerwynn crept up behind her and threw her arms around Ashelle's shoulders. "I'm back."

The following shriek had the potential to make me go deaf. "Cerwynn! Oh, my little Cerwynn!"

Her arms came around her as she held on tight. Cerwynn buried into her warmth and sighed happily. Honestly, she hadn't taken enough advantage of these motherly hugs in the last couple months. They had a remarkable power over her nervous system.

Worries, she'd learned, did never truly disappear though. No mother could make them completely go away. Not Ashelle, and perhaps not her birth mother either. The worries just came back, simply transformed into something more durable.

"I'm fine." Cerwynn's voice came out muffled against her shoulder. There was a tell-tale itch behind her eyes, so she started blinking the tears back ferociously.

Ashelle, too, was shaking in her arms and she wondered if she'd been doing the exact same thing before I woke up. "Don't you dare do that to me again, Cerwynn. I didn't invest years of my life into teaching you common sense, so you could just throw it out the window whenever a pretty boy asks you to."

"He's my friend. And for the record I didn't want to go in." Cerwynn nearly choked on my next words. "Now he's probably dead."

Because of me. The words didn't leave her lips, but the implication hung in the air between them. Everything suddenly seemed a lot more final.

"Not your fault, Ceri. Never your fault." They were the words of a mother to the child she loved, and as such they left her with a bitter aftertaste.

But it is.

Her lack of reply must have clued Ashelle in, because she softly pushed against Cerwynn, so that they were now at arm's length. Her eyes searching her face for the inevitable strain of guilt. "You want to make it right."

"Yes." It came out as a whisper.

She nodded resignedly. "Take Fenarel with you, he's a decent boy."

"I will." No way. If that ruin really turned out to contain Darkspawn, Cerwynn wouldn't risk exposing him to them.

"Little liar." She tapped her nose in retaliation. "Maybe I should tell you a story."

"Now?"

Ashelle considered her for a moment. "No, not just yet. When you come back I'll tell you. Consider it motivation."

"I'll hold you to it." She kissed her cheek and returned her hug for the last time.

"Come back safely, little Ceri."