Across Lake Calenhad, Neria could see a massive storm cloud flanking the only place she could lucidly recall as home. There was a cold breeze flowing out from the piling clouds, and her studies told her they were in the excess of the storm. It was pulling air from somewhere else to fuel it.

The water rippled and buoyed the boat as Kester rowed, and Neria gripped the side with white knuckles, swallowing the nausea that was rising as the waters grew choppier. Even if it made her ill, it was the experience she revelled in.

"How's it feel?" Kester grinned at her as she put her face into the wind, white hair whipping back from her cheeks.

"Wonderful!" Neria smiled at him, the wind drying her teeth and forcing her to close her lips. There was spray off the lake forcing her to blink rapidly as it threatened on her eyelashes. She wiped a palm over her brow.

Duncan merely chuckled , leaning towards her so she might hear him, "Hopefully we can keep ahead of the storm."

Stepping off the boat on rubbery legs, Neria stopped and looked back across the undulating waters at the dark spire. It seemed ominous, the ancient architecture framed by the increasingly organized clouds, a shelf defined over which mammatus rose like a lion's paw, high into the sky. Farther down the lake, a flicker of lightning blipped, still silenced by the distance.

"Neria?" Duncan almost reached for her, and she nodded to him before looking at the tower once more.

Kinloch Hold. The Tower of the Circle of Magi. Goodbye home.

Stopping at the inn for extra rations, Duncan instructed her on the necessity of maintaining supplies, stocking with extra casks for water and ensuring their leathery, dried meat and hardtack were packed tight. The enchanter had given her a few silvers, and she had some she'd found in Jowan's chest that were spent.

"We will follow the Imperial Highway south along the lake. We should be able to reach the narrows by tomorrow evening. There is a town there where we will resupply before cutting through the Hinterlands." Duncan spoke as they walked in the shadow of the broken Tevinter aqueduct that followed the highway. "After, we will push into the wilds and onward to Ostagar. It will take a week at the most."

Neria listened attentively, even as her eyes wandered to take in the sights of the day. The wind had followed them up through the floodplain, shaking the aspen and filling the air with a delightful shudder of sound. The trees swayed in time with the tug of her robe, and of the sash on Duncan's waist.

Duncan spoke about the lands as they walked, grinning at her voracious appetite for knowledge and her willingness to apply what had only been read or seen in books to the real world. Soon enough she was pausing here and there to gather herbs she knew would come useful in time.

The moss on the rock, it was in a reproductive cycle, paired beside the liverwort she knew they could eat in a pinch if needed, and there, it was a web woven by the burrowing red spider, she recognized the pigmentation in the silk. Neria in turn spoke of the things she knew, the things that captivated her attention, and there were times Duncan could not fill in the blanks of her curiosity.

"It is easy to forget that you are not accustom to the world. Your botany is quite advanced."

Delicately folding the thick deathroot leaves in waxed linens, Neria slipped them into the flattened pouch on her waist. "It's easy to become obsessed with things you cannot see."

"Too true." They turned on the road again.

"We had an herbarium but... it was nothing comparitively." Neria motioned over the hillside. They had been following along the rising bluffs of the lake, from which they could now and then see the water a few miles off through tree and hill.

Her feet ached like she never imagined they could, with a slight burn of electricity up her calves. Neria was not athletic - she had not spent time on her physical form, never needing to. She imagined that was but another facet that would be changing. She kept the pace none the less, despite the tactile desire to slow down and absorb everything she could.

When the sun swirled away into a bank of darkening cloud, Duncan touched her arm and she followed him off the road. The wind had picked up, shuddering even the herbs on the ground with its energetic bursts.

"There is an abandoned hamlet just off the road. It used to be an outpost for the Orleasians during the occupation. I have stayed there before - there will be shelter for us." Duncan chuckled as he followed her through a copse of elder, "While I realize we need to acclimate you with the world, I imagine marching through an autumn storm would not suit either of us."

He motioned as they walked, and she gathered wood found, stooping as well to pick a few puffballs she identified, knowing their speckling to be edible. The elder were late into their blossom, and she plucked a few as well, smiling apologetically before hurrying after Duncan as he nearly turned out of sight.

Crossing beneath the aqueduct, the ruined foundations of a handful of homes came into view, as did the remaining posts of a livestock pen. One building had not yet fallen into complete disrepair, its masonry solid and a partial roof covering atop.

"There," Duncan motioned. "Start a fire while I lay snares."

Without further word, he turned off through the overgrown pasture and Neria was left on her own in the old road. Looking down, she could still see where the soil was compacted from cart wheels and hooves. There was the distant rumble of thunder as Neria stepped through the grasses and into the shelter of the house.

It was surprisingly dry, though here and there a bit of mould clung to the straw that poked out of the plaster walls. A crooked shelf hung in the corner, and there was an iron basin sunk in the floor that was blackened from use. Resetting the stones around it, Neria dropped the branches into the depression.

Fire had never been something Neria had an over interest in learning to use, it was too volatile, but from the earliest age, apprentices were taught to craft and manipulate it. She could still remember the instructor speaking about how it helped them train their will. The ability to control fire, something that was so unpredictable and wild, reflected on their ability to restrain themselves and the magic that coursed through them.

Almost without thought, the flames danced to life at Neria's command. She stacked on more twigs to keep from needing to concentrate upon it, and wandering out behind the house, found a broken plough that she cracked the wood from. Partially rotted, but relatively dry.

Standing, she looked back through the clearing. She could see the hills fall down, tripping towards where she knew Lake Calenhad was - or at least, was fairly certain. In her pack she had the map First Enchanter Irving had given her neatly rolled, even though Ferelden's geography was etched into her mind.

How she had a sense of direction, Neria couldn't imagine. But she supposed that even in the Tower, she had never been turned around very easily.

Know the winds, map the skies, and you will never be lost.

The wind tugged at Neria's robes, and she cringed the fabric closer to her body. It cut through the simple fabric, and though she also had a wool-lined cloak, she didn't want to break it out. The air felt charged and smelled divine, dried fields, trees, animals, and so much that she couldn't identify, and only imagine what the source was.

The sky was darkening, and thunder rumbled discordantly from the flickers of light that silhouetted the bulbous edges of the storm clouds. She imagined it was half way to twilight, based on how long they walked. She had difficulty with the time, for though they had chatted, much time had been spent walking in silence.

It was comfortable though. Duncan wasn't a fool or a lecher, and when he spoke it had purpose, not just sound to pollute the air.

"Ech," Neria made a sound as a beetle from within the wood scuttled over her hand, and she dropped the piece. Kicking it, she was satisfied enough when she inspected it to retrieve it and go back to the house. Building the fire, she sat by its glow and watched the clouds advance.

When Duncan returned, Neria had retrieved a stick of charcoal from the edge of the fire and was sketching in her journal.

"You are an artist as well?"

Duncan dropped his pack against the wall, tugging his dagger and sword free and loosening his chest plate. Lines of fatigue crossed his forehead, but there was genuine curiosity in his eyes as he sat across from her.

A rosy hue on her cheeks, Neria pulled her journal closer, unaware of his approach. "I don't know if I'd call myself one. It has its uses - documenting things, you know?"

"There is no need to be embarrassed, I'm sure if I tried to draw anything, the comparison would put me to shame." He chuckled and ran a cloth over his blade, following her eyes out the broken front of the house to the clouds that hung over the fractured aqueduct.

Her fingertips smeared with black, Neria blushed more darkly, but relinquished the book none the less to his open palm. Calloused fingers gingerly smoothed over the leather as he looked down, and he nodded in agreement at the duplication of the view.

"That is just charcoal?" He quietly asked, and a rumble of thunder followed before the spatter of rain darkened the ground beyond their hutch.

Neria nodded, flecking bits of the black off her nails before saying, "I want to save my quills, if I can. This is just frivolous of me, I know."

"Not at all." Duncan handed back the journal, offering a rare smile, "We must take our pleasures where they can be gained."

Nipping the inside of her bottom lip, Neria looked back to the fire. They were quiet as Duncan dismantled his pack and went through the idle process of honing his weapons, his features relaxing into the routine.

Soon enough the storm took full hold, and the sky darkened further, creating a twilight all its own that made Neria wrap the journal and hide it back in her things. Another log on the fire kept their space lit, but the rain cooled the air and dampened it, soaking through the clothes.

Neria had always appreciated the cold, perhaps it spoke of her blood as a native Ferelden, but it was a comfort. While heat was sticky, inescapable and sickly, cold was hardening, cleansing and pure. That was in the air, fresh and crisp, the cold outfall of the storm as it crashed, casting shadows and brightness that even dimmed the glow of the fire.

Standing at the edge of their shelter, she wanted nothing more than to strip and feel it against her skin, the rain pelting cold, the wind shivering through her and bringing goosebumps. Neria did shiver at the thought, running a hand over her hair as she kept her eyes to the sky. She felt insignificant and blessed to see such raw beauty and power.

Had she ever been alive in the Tower compared to this?

"Have you ever seen anything like this?"

Duncan was at her side, his voice just loud enough over the rain. Neria turned, surprised to find she was hugging herself. Duncan had his arms crossed together behind him, his frame smaller with his armour removed.

"We saw the storms coming - sometimes. There are only a few windows in the Tower. And we were always encased in stone, you couldn't feel them like this. They didn't sound like this." Neria turned away, caught by the inquisitive nature of his eyes. "It was safe."

"And this isn't?"

Neria cringed back as a crack of lightning rippled across the sky, blinding her eyes a moment and leaving her pupils struggle to readjust. "No, no not at all, that's what's wonderful, isn't it?"

Duncan could only laugh at her timid reaction, a brief shake of his head precluding his words, "Perhaps. I always missed Ferelden's storms when I was in Orlais. The mountains brew them into something unforgiving and vicious." He followed her gaze out to the clouds, and another flash of lightening lit up the clouds, "But there is beauty in nature's raw, unbridled passion."

Finding herself blushing again, Neria cleared her throat, the sound lost beneath the rain, and merely nodded.

"Unfortunately, I think it will ensure the traps I laid stay empty." He murmured to himself, turning back to the fire as Neria stayed standing. The worst of the clouds rolled by, but the rain and thunder continued, satisfied into submission almost, grumbling onward.

"I have the mushrooms... and I can make tea. If you'd like?" Neria pulled herself away from the darkening sky, evening setting in as she refuelled the fire, a whisper on her lips ensuring the new log added caught quick.

Assembling his bedroll, Duncan cast her a sideways glance, "Elder blossoms... I had forgotten they made a tea. Perfect for a cool night."

Taking their sole pot from where they'd left it to fill with rainwater, Neria murmured a subtle spell and brought the water near to a boil before crushing the blossoms into it. Filling their cups, she clasped the metal to warm her hands, it and the fire the sole sources of heat.

"We'll sleep in watches I take it?"

Duncan nodded as he ate one of the puffballs she'd collected, following it with a piece of the hardtack he carried tied in his satchel. "Yes, I will take the first."

"Oh no, no - I can't sleep with all this noise." Neria sat down beside her own packed bedroll, cup in hand as the rain pattered on the half-ruined roof above them.

Shaking his head, Duncan said, "You are not used to such things. Rest, and I will wake you when needed. Though I imagine the rain will keep most things away."

"Of course, ser." Neria looked into her tea, watching the firelight reflected on its surface.

"Please, I am no Ser." Duncan chuckled, finishing his tea and setting the cup beside the pot before sitting by the fire..

The storm had mostly subsided as Neria lay down on her bedroll, though the sounds of the night did nothing to help lull her to sleep. The patter of rain, the distant whirr and glub of insects and frogs, even the sound of the wind, the way it whistled and hushed through leaves and gaps in the building seemed larger than life. She didn't want to miss it.

But the familiar crackle of the logs popping and settling to dim ash combined with Duncan's quiet humming, and Neria fell asleep on the hard ground. It was only deeper into the night she realized her exhaustion, as her body protested waking at Duncan's urging.

He chuckled none the less as she groaned, and apologized. "It is something you will grow accustomed to."

As soon as Neria was up, Duncan lay by the fire, and in the darkness, she fuelled it with her will, keeping it burning warm with relatively little exertion. It was a fine exercise.

When the rain stopped some time later, Neria wandered out beneath the stars, unable to keep her face from tilting up. The air was refreshing and humid, and the storm left the sky clear. Though there was only a sliver of a moon, the stars - Maker, the stars. She'd studied a little astronomy, but even in their best locations, they never saw the sky like this.

The ground underfoot was softer, squishing with her steps as she walked farther away from the ruins. The starlight left everything gilded in silver. Were she not elven, she may have had difficulty in the low light.

Neria stood for some time beneath the open sky, wandering back now and then to keep an eye on the fire and Duncan. It felt odd watching him sleep, invasive - even if she'd not had a night when someone wasn't watching or sleeping nearby.

The eastern sky had started to brighten when she turned the opposite direction from the cluster of former houses. Her keen ears had picked up a sound unlike the others that seemed a natural part of the soundscape. She followed the shrill cry, her stomach clenched. It almost sounded like a child, some of them screamed as they were brought to the Tower, as though the walls would eat them.

Neria's hand fluttered over her mouth as she saw the rabbit in the snare. It was kicking and thrashing, caught in it oddly, and its back was curved improperly. It screamed again, and she had to blink away her tears.

This was to be one of their meals, why was she so naïve to it? This was a trap Duncan laid.

The rabbit's back legs twitched, twining it more fully in the snare and exacerbating its shrill cries.

She was watching it suffer. But what was she supposed to do, she'd never killed a thing in her life? Paled, she slipped a small knife from its sheath on her belt.

Neria put her hand over the rabbit's eyes and smoothed its ears back, "It's okay, it'll be over soon." Palm over its eyes, she held it by the scruff, its legs shaking nervously. But its screams had stopped.

Pressing her tongue to the roof of her mouth, Neria slit the rabbit's throat, only letting go as most of the blood spilt and its body stilled. Her heart was racing as if in tribute, a panicked pace that made her ill. Cutting it from the snare, the body dangled in her grasp, and by the time Neria was able to move, the sky had brightened for her walk back to camp.


Naria was quiet as they continued down the highway, leaving before the sun had fully risen. The warmth of day burnt away the fog that hung over the countryside, leaving the air hot.

"Thank you for breakfast," she interjected as Duncan paused to inspect an overturned cart off the road.

"Oh? Well, I will try and teach you some. Rabbits are relatively easy to skin with the proper knowledge."

Concealing her distress, Neria replied, "Of course, I should probably learn that sort of thing."

Duncan paid no heed, "We shall have to be more careful. This attack is recent. No doubt bandits." He motioned and they walked on. "There is an exodus from the south as the horde drives people from their lands. Some of the less savoury become opportunistic."

"That must be terrifying."

"Indeed. But better to sacrifice their land and possessions than their lives."

They camped just outside the village after purchasing more supplies and filling their skeins in the well. Neria took the first shift, and when Duncan woke in the morning, he cooked eggs garnered from a nearby farmer. They were soon off again and the landscape shifted into the more arduous, hilly terrain of the Hinterlands. The road was in greater disrepair, and the farmsteads were fewer between.

"Not many are comfortable living this close to the Wilds. Though I am uncertain now, in the past, the Chasind have been known to raid in small bands outside of their territory."

"But what about the arl or bann? Does this land come under Redcliffe or Lothering, or?"

"It is often disputed, and as a result, poorly managed."

Neria nodded, and they turned on the road through a valley. Here and there the ruins of statues, buildings, and toppled stone drew her eyes. She wished she could draw it all.

"I wonder if people know how beautiful the countryside is?"

Duncan hemmed and shook his head before saying, "This land is buried under snow a good portion of the year, and very little that is worthwhile grows here. I'm not certain I'd consider it beautiful." He chuckled, "Perhaps when you've been out in it for a year or two we might revisit the notion?"

Neria grinned, trying to catch her breath as they took a hill, "Yes, of course. I must seem ridiculous."

"Eager, more so."

They paused at the top. The sun was low in the west, colouring the land a vibrant hue and filling it with lengthening shadows and saturation. There was a herd of cattle grazing in the east.

"Not much farther, and we'll set up camp."

"Not regretting recruiting me yet?" Neria asked, grinning as they marched on. "I am sorry if I am slowing us down."

Duncan's dark eyes met hers and he shook his head, "Not at all. I will show you some exercises when we make camp. They will aide your endurance and help develop muscle."

Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, Neria replied, "Thank you, that's very kind. You've been nothing but kind since the moment I met you."

"You have never given me a reason to be anything but, Neria."

Clasping her hands together behind her, the elf unconsciously mimicked Duncan's posture as they walked, "I'm a mage. Seems that would be enough for most."

"I have had brethren in the Wardens who were mages - and elves before you at that." Duncan kept his eyes on the horizon. "I have always tried to leave my judgements aside, and allow the individual to form my opinion of them."

"That's very noble."

"Well," chuckled Duncan, tilting his head. It was a minute before he added, "Besides, soon we will be kin through the order. Brothers and sisters we all are - though admittedly, fewer sisters. I doubt intentionally." He added when he saw her inquisitive look.

"It sounds like something I'm used to," Neria's smile softened.

"Oh?"

"Strangers brought together by their common burden, giving up all else, leaving only each other to find strength and family in."

Duncan regarded the elf as she veered off to a nearby bush, carefully paring the thorns off of it. Neria smiled as she hurried back.

"Did you have a choice about becoming a Grey Warden?" Neria peeled one of the thorns and chewed on it, lips closing over it. As Duncan resumed walking with her, she blushed and said, "I'm sorry...I... is that inappropriate? You're very easy to speak with."

"The alternative was death," Duncan said as they moved down the slope.

"Oh..." Neria stored the rest of the thorns, chewing a while before spitting the pale green bit out. "Sounds like going to the Tower."

Camping in the lee of a steep hill, the sun disappeared more quickly than normally. The road nearby crossed a stream that was almost dry from the summer, and they set their camp only a few yards from it under the open sky. The firmament was painted in rich blues that deepened as the night took hold. Neria offered to stay up for the first watch, alert from the plant she'd chewed.

Down by the stream, she took off her boots and sunk her feet into the water. Watching the fireflies, she ran her feet over the smooth stones, feeling the streambed as the current was forced into eddies around her ankles. The water was cooler than the air, but not unpleasant, and in the twilight she caught a small frog.

"Acting like a child," she sighed, smiling even as she felt the damp creature hop in the prison of her hands, bumping around.

What would all the apprentices say if they saw her - would they believe it was her?

They'd be doing all the same things as you, Neria, and more.

She realized why no matter how many times some mages kept being brought back by the templars, they kept trying to escape. Neria shook her head, opening her hands to let the little amphibian out. There was a mage in particular that was a bit of a joke, he'd been in solitary confinement for almost a year since his recent escapade.

Looking back to camp, she saw the fire was dying, so Neria rose. She walked on the grass like one might coals, her feet unseasoned and pampered from a life indoors. When she stepped on a fledgling thistle in the dark, she cursed and dropped her boots.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, not wanting to wake the Warden who slept nearby. Standing on one foot, Neria was about to lower to the ground to put her socks back on, when she was grabbed from behind. The pressure of a blade on her throat froze her, as a rough hand clasped over her own.

"Don't you make a sound, missy." The thick accent of a Ferelden commoner was by her ear, as was the stench of his unwashed clothes. The dagger bit her skin, and she couldn't help but squeak, the sound muffled.

Opposite the fire, Neria saw two other shabbily armoured men going through her pack. They spilt her map and book, and the elf tensed.

"'ey, look'ee, she's a knife-ear."

Neria kept her head and looked to Duncan. He slept with most of his armour hidden beside him - they had no idea who they were robbing. Dragged sideways, she breathed in through her nose, rapidly blinking the tears from her eyes.

"Lucky us fo' the fun."

Released into the arms of another man, Neria deliberately stumbled. The moment she was free, she turned and uttered the spell, and a chill erupted from her hands and froze the two men harassing her.

"Maker's balls, she's an apostate!"

Gasping in, Neria quickly shouted, "Duncan!"

With a brief shake of his head, the Warden was awake, and one of the two unfrozen bandits darted at him with a longsword. Duncan rolled sideways, dagger in his hand from an unseen place at his side, and he was on a knee to catch the attack. His fingers found the hilt of his enchanted blade, and sweeping around, knocked the man off balance.

"Shit, Devon, this isn't worth it!" The man dropped Neria's pack and ran as his companion was run through on Duncan's blade. There was a gurgle in his throat before the man was pushed aside.

Neria meanwhile had gathered her senses, and as the men seemed to thaw, a coating of stone enveloped her hand. Sibilant whispers on her tongue, she hurled the summoned rock at them. One of the men shattered, and Neria huffed in alarm, only to see Duncan's dagger protrude through the front of the other man's chest.

I killed him. I killed that man.

Neria found her breath and looked at Duncan as he stepped towards her. He was clad in just his trousers, his chest mottled with white scars that stood out from his chest hair. He was speaking to her.

" ... hurt?"

Touching her throat, Neria felt where the dagger had cut. She was bleeding. Only feeling the wetness woke the pulse of the wound, the burn. "I... it's not serious. I will be able to fix it." At the sudden realization of what occurred, she felt her cheeks redden, "Oh ser, I - I failed my watch..."

Exhaling out, Duncan stretcjed the shirt of one of the dead men, leaning over to clean his blades on it. "I should have given you more instruction. It... has been some years since I recruited a mage. I overlooked the gaps in your training."

But Neria didn't hear him, her eyes were down on the ground, at the pieces of the man she killed. Thawing, the hunks of limbs had begun to ooze blood. What a terrible way to die...

This was worse than the Fade. She knew this was real, she had acted on instinct. And now he was dead.

"Neria?" Duncan touched her shoulder.

"Are you hurt, ser?"

"No, they didn't touch me."

It was only as Duncan's grasp tightened on her arm that Neria realized she had swayed.

"Come, sit."

Helping her to the ground, Duncan snagged his rust-coloured shirt and pulled it on. He dragged off the bodies, kicking dirt over the blood before setting his daggers back by the bedroll. He filled their pot with water from the stream and came back, satisfied after his search of the surroundings that the last attacker was nowhere to be found.

"I apologize," Neria quietly said as he sat down beside her. She had an arm around her knees, while the other lay in the grass, fingers tugging at blades. She guarded her words, "I should have reacted better."

"Have you ever killed someone before?" Wetting a cloth, Duncan placed it against the back of her neck, and Neria sighed out.

"N.. not out of...well, the Fade." Her voice stayed quiet, and the fire popped, "It was different."

"I can imagine." Duncan drew his hand back as Neria took hold of the cloth. Dragging it around her neck she held it over her face with both hands, a chill seeping into it from her breath.

"A person learns better to detach themselves from it as time goes on. And darkspawn... are not men. So perhaps it will be easier for you."

Voice muffled lightly by the cloth, Neria whispered, "I suppose I'll have to get used to it."

Duncan sighed and shifted to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling the woman closer. Taking the cloth, he cooled it in the water again before putting it back in her hands, and Neria covered her reddened face. "When you are faced with moral difficulties, concentrate on the goal of your actions. When you are a Grey Warden, your actions must supersede so much - your needs, the needs of your country - because you will act for the better of all men."

Neria nodded, lifting her head and smoothing her hands back into her hair as she leant into his shoulder.

"You never have to enjoy or grow accustomed to killing, Neria - but that cannot stay your hand. We go to war."

"Thank you, Duncan."

Rolling forward onto a knee, Duncan retrieved a few branches to add to the dwindling fire. His hair had been frazzled further in the fighting, loose from sleep. Sitting back on his matt, he motioned beside him, "Rest for now. I will wake you for the watch in early dawn."

Unfolding the bundle, Neria lay it out where he indicated, near him by the fire, and lay down, watching the flicker of the flames as the branches took. The fantasy of her freedom as a Warden dissolved in its heat, melting away to reveal the true core of obligation and sacrifice.

She realized she was going to die. That was what soldiers did - that is what she was now.

Duncan turned a flask over the fire, dipping its bulbous bottom into the flames to heat it before he added the paste in his hand. Inside the fluid blistered with viscous bubbles. Satisfied, Duncan soaked a thick piece of suede with it, twining the hide tight before sinking it into the bottle.

Neria watched it, feeling apart from herself, the scent in the air sharp and making her eyes water. In her exhaustion, she closed her eyes, the glamour of the world lost for the time being.