AN: This is a VERY short chapter, just because I've so much work going on with writing my first novel and haven't had the time. I had written this bit a while back however, and thought it worth adding. I will more than likely update it so that it resembles an actual chapter more later on. Enjoy!

With the Circle a day behind them, the silence between Duncan and Laria had grown more strained by the hour. He had attempted pleasantries along the way but they'd been met with an impenetrable wall of silence. Laria's chest felt heavy and her feet ached. Her hair was sticking to her face from getting caught in a rain shower and she was cold. There had been no time as they had fled the circle, to gather belongings or prepare for the journey at all. Duncan seemed oblivious to the harsh Ferelden weather but Laria had never stepped foot outside the tower she'd lived in most of her life and was unaccustomed to the elements.
As they reached an old Tevinter ruin somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Duncan announced that they would be setting camp for the night. Laria was almost overwhelmed with relief at the thought of sleep. She desired nothing more than to shut out the world, if only for a few hours. Time to stop thinking, for the events of the past to stop playing out over and over in her mind, yes, that would be nice.
Duncan expected nothing from his companion. He respected her wish not to talk, he was sure the traumatic events she'd experienced would have rendered even the strongest person mute. However, he was concerned about her mental state. It did no one any good to bottle up their emotions this way. He could only hope she would soon come to trust him enough to open up to him, for her own sake.
For now he busied himself gathering wood for a small fire and, having asked Laria to use magic to light it, he left her huddled on the ground absorbing the welcome warmth, while he disappeared into a small copse of trees to hunt down something to eat.
Laria stared into the flames, for a time she thought she could see faces dancing within the orange glow. First Cullen, she smiled sadly as she remembered his hands holding hers and the look of love in his eyes. Next Jowan, he still looked tormented yet somehow now, she couldn't bring herself to care. Finally Irving, his face grinned at her lasciviously, it didn't seem to quite fit his features and for a split second Laria questioned if he'd really done what her mind told her he had. Perhaps it was playing tricks on her, maybe… no, she knew he had. She could still taste him in her mouth,. Suddenly the urge to be sick overwhelmed her, rushing to a patch of ground away from the fire she vomited several times, until there was nothing left to purge. As if the act had dislodged some obstruction deep within her soul, clarity began to bleed into the mess inside her head. She felt… something. Anger? Disgust? No, shame. Looking down at her dishevelled robes, her full pert breasts, her torso tapering down to smoothly curved hips, Laria sneered at her own shape. Just then a gust of cool night wind blew against her side, causing her soft black hair to billow out around her shoulders as it did so. Catching the shadow it made against the light of the fire, she felt nothing but revulsion . Quickly scanning the place Duncan had left his pack, she found what she'd been searching for, the small knife he wore at his belt, left out in readiness for preparing their food when he returned. Without a second thought Laria walked over to the knife and picked it up, running her finger deliberately over the sharpened edge, a line of blood surging forth and trickling down over her hand. Sitting crossed legged on the ground, a little too close to the fire, the heat of the flames licked sharply at her skin. She took the knife in her right hand, a length of hair in the other and, using a crude sawing motion, began to hack the beautiful long locks from her head, tossing them into the flames as they came away in her hand.
When Duncan finally emerged from the trees, two rabbits slung over his shoulder, he could just make out a silhouette in front of the fire. From the small frame it looked like Laria but around the head the hair stuck out at different lengths, jagged and far shorter than hers. The familiar pointed ears were clearly visible too and Duncan couldn't remember being able to see Laria's ears amidst her hair. He was about to confront the stranger, panic setting in as he could see no sign of Laria, when he caught sight of something in the elf's hand. As the figure raised the other hand, holding something else , Duncan recognised his knife and realising what was happening he dropped the rabbits and dashed to the elf he now knew to be Laria. Dropping to his knees behind her , he gasped to see her beautiful long hair now crackling at the edge of the fire. What remained on her head finished about mid way down her neck at it's longest point. Taking hold of her arms from behind, Duncan lowered them and breathed a sigh of relief as she let go of the knife. Almost immediately she began to sob, her whole body trembling as a tear tumbled onto Duncan's hand. Gently he pulled her back to lean into his chest, wrapping his huge arms around her, cradling her like a child. Without word or glance Laria buried her face into the shirt he wore beneath his armour and let herself be embraced. The tears flowed freely then as he held her close, his heart beating beneath her cheek. There in the middle of nowhere, the Grey Warden held the Elven Mage as she cried through the night, releasing her pain until it dyed along with the glowing embers of the fire.