Chapter 2. Back to Camp

"Faye? Can you hear me?" Alistair asked with the same worried tone she while he looked into her open eyes. She was there right in front of him, but judging form the expression in her eyes she could be miles away.

Faye stared confused and scared into Alistair's face and she soon started to remember it. The blonde hair, the tan skin, the wrinkled forehead who revealed his worries... Everything was starting to come back to her. But she couldn't understand why she was pulled out from the safety and content she had felt since she died. She wasn't suppose to be here, not any more. Everything felt cold and shallow and every little bit of her body was in pain. She wanted to go back.

"Where am I?" Faye's voice was weak and hoarse, she was starting to panic. "No, no, no, I don't want to be here!"

She looked around, breathing heavily and tried to get away from Alistair's grip around her waist. The air was so cold it felt like swallowing ice when she drew her breaths. Her hands ended up around Alistair's wrist, piercing his skin with her nails. Alistair tried to calm her down, without any bigger result. He grabbed her hands and held them still while he kept his eye contact with her, talking softly and calmly.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just calm down!" he said over and over again. "Please, just calm down. Everything's okay now. Your with me... It's okay now."

Sten stood at the same place he was standing on before, looking at them. For once he had no idea what to say or think. Was this right? Was life worth feeling this way? He wanted to kill Alistair for brining back some one who finally had been put to rest, waking them up from something that were supposed to be impossible to awake from. Ripping them from the Golden City, the Fade, Heaven, whatever you want to call it. But then he realised that Alistair had justified this in his head, what he was doing was saving her from, what he thought was, a never ending dream of pain and loneliness. Because Alistair couldn't bare the thought of a life without her, and therefore he could not imagine that she didn't feel the same.

The rest of the camp had begun waking up from Faye's shouting and screaming. Even though Wynne was the oldest, she was the first one out of her tent. Alistair had begun to assume that she had trouble sleeping, and therefore she sat up most of the nights, reading her old books. Wynne stopped in her tent opening and squinted her blue eyes while she tried to distinguish what was going on over at the fire. But all she could see was Alistair wrestling someone's hands down to the ground and a stone cold Sten watching. She quickly moved across the camp to them. First she thought it was Morrigan, Wynne knew there would be trouble when that girl returned. But then she realised that it wasn't Morrigan, it wasn't anyone she had seen this morning, it wasn't anyone she could remember as dangerous. It was Faye. Faye who had died over a week ago, which coffin she had seen being buried not long ago.

Alistair looked up. Faye had finally calmed down. He prompted that she should drink more water, and she drank as if she never seen water in her whole life. The water seemed to make everything a little bit better. Wynne had laid her hand over her mouth, killing a small gasp. She looked in Alistair's eyes, showing him how wrong she thought this was. But she didn't say anything, mostly because Alistair's own eyes begged her not to. She walked over, pushed him to the side and crouched next to Faye who had closed her eyes again. She was about to faint once more.

"Fetch me my bag." said Wynne without leaving Faye her attention. Alistair didn't need more command, he stood up and hurried of to Wynne's tent. A few seconds later he came back, carrying her small leather bag in his hand and handed it over to her.

Wynne took the bag from his grip and pulled up different kinds of healing ointments. She was furious with Alistair. Just the thought of bringing some one back from the dead should have been something that revolted Alistair. Especially after his days as a templar.

Faye was shivering again. Wynne opened one of the bottles and poured the deep red content into her mouth, before she opened the buttons of her dress and smeared the sticky muddy fluid from another bottle onto her blotched red chest. Leliana got out from her tent, with a large grey sleeping gown on. She looked very tired, and she rubbed her left eye with her hand in a attempt to wake up.

"What's going on?" she asked right before she yawned.

"Go back to bed, Leliana!" Wynne shouted. She had more or less turned into the mother of the party, telling everyone what they should do and when they should do it. Leliana shook her head, weaved her hand in the air and mutter something about "stupid fools who spend the night screaming" in her thick Orleasian accent.

Alistair looked at Leliana, then down at Wynne and tried to ask her what he should do. Alistair got the answer that he had "done quite enough already" and remained silent after that. He watched as Wynne's remedies slowly made Faye better. She fell asleep next to the fire and started to look peaceful again. Wynne rose slowly while she wiped the last of the ointment on a napkin she had in her bag. Alistair was more than convinced that she had everything in that bag. Ointments, napkins, horseshoes, feathers, maybe even a map of the moon. He looked into her face, searched for some kind of judgement she was about to put on him.

"Carry her to your tent, Alistair, and let her sleep for as long as she needs." Wynne said calmly without looking at him. "And after that you come back here. Because we need to talk."