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The Kochari Wilds was beyond anything the three new recruits could have imagined. The Darkspawn taint had seeped into the land and everything was withering and dying. There was a foul stench in the air that made Darcy want to lose what little breakfast she had that morning before they had left the safety of the Ostagar ruins. Carcases of dead things littered the ground and blood stained the sand red. The river also had a stagnant feel to it and Darcy hoped that she did not run out of water before they returned to camp. She did not wish to fill her drinking flask with water from this river.

They had not walked but an hour when Darcy spotted movement ahead of them. It was only a miniscule movement and the three men that accompanied her had not seen it. She kept her eyes riveted to the spot to see if she could spot the movement again. There it was; definite movement. There were bodies of soldiers strewn around the area and Darcy's heart threatened to escape via her throat. Fergus was in one of the scouting parties that had been sent out into the wilds. It had been her only consolation; that Fergus had not been at Castle Cousland when Rendon Howe betrayed his best friend and killed her family. She prayed fervently that she would not see the face of her brother on one of the bodies that they passed. She spied the movement again and stopped her companions from walking further. Up to now, they had not encountered anything but a pack of deranged wolves, but Darcy knew that the silence that surrounded them in the Wilds was unnatural; like the land was holding its breath waiting for something to happen.

"What's wrong?" Alistair whispered beside her.

She pointed to where she had seen the movement ahead of them.

"There is movement ahead of us, I suggest we move cautiously."

Alistair nodded, but knew that it was not Darkspawn. The taint in his blood was quiet.

Slowly they crept forwards passing the carcass of a dead ox and an overturned merchant's cart. Flies buzzed around its bloated stomach and maggots writhed and wriggled within that made the skin of the carcass move and ripple.

"Maker's breath, that is disgusting," Daveth complained.

Darcy did not say a word. To do so would mean to rid herself of her stomach contents. A man, lying half buried under the bodies of his fellow soldiers, cried out weakly for help and tried to move towards the small group.

"Please, help," the man cried stretching his hand out towards Darcy.

Darcy took his hand whilst Alistair, Jory and Daveth moved the dead bodies from on top of him.

"Do not worry, we are here to help. Tell me your name, soldier," Darcy said soothingly as she stroked the man's hand.

"It...it's Dolph. Please, please, I need some water." The last body was moved away and Darcy had to suppress the shivers of revulsion that threatened to overtake her body. The man's abdomen was near cleaved in half and his innards spilled out of the large gash, glistening and wet in the sun. How the man was still alive, Darcy did not know. She did know that he would be dead soon.

Jory had walked a distance away from the man and was throwing up under a tree. Daveth was also looking rather green. Darcy took her canteen from her pack and held it to the man's lips; he drank greedily. Once the man had quenched his thirst, Darcy started to question the man. She knew she did not have much time, but she had to know what fate had befallen her brother.

"Dolph, what happened here?" she asked, still holding the man's hand and stroking it gently.

"We...we were sent out to scout the area and report back." The man's breathing was ragged and came out in short gasps.

"We were on our way back to the camp...they just, they came out of nowhere...rose up from underneath the ground...so many...we did not stand a chance. You must return to camp...too dangerous...tell them...run!"

The man's eyes rolled back into his head and his breathing became very shallow, but Darcy had more questions and she could not allow him to die just yet. She reached over and patted his cheek.

"Dolph, Dolph, listen, I need to ask you something else, Dolph, look at me," there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

The man focused on her face once more with great effort. Darcy swallowed, her fear for her brother making it almost impossible to speak.

"Do you know Fergus Cousland? Was he in your contingent?"

Dolph's eyes, in the meantime, were rolling in his head again. She slapped his cheek again.

"Dolph, was Fergus in your group, please, Dolph."

"N...No...another..."

Dolph's breath hitched once and his body shuddered as death overtook it. His head rolled and his hand became slack within hers. Tears blinded her as she stumbled up from her kneeling position. Running towards a nearby tree; she let out a howl of anger, unsheathing one of her swords mid-run and hacked into the tree. The blade cut deep, catching in the tree and she could not pull it out again. Another angry growl emanated from her as she used both hands to yank at the stuck sword. It finally came loose, but Darcy lost her balance and landed hard on her backside. She lay there for a moment too dazed to do anything more. A pair of sturdy leather boots came into view, but Darcy refused to acknowledge them.

"I would ask if you are alright, but I'm afraid of my neck receiving the same fate as that poor tree over there."

Darcy blinked a few times and sat up; pulling her knees up to her chest and hiding her face in her arms. Shameful behaviour Darcy Cousland, what would Father say? Thoughts of her father made her want to cry and she swallowed hard to get past the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and allowed Alistair to help her up. He looked at her, concern written all over his face. Jory and Daveth were staring at her; mouths hanging slack in dumbfounded surprise.

"I'm fine," Darcy said; brushing dust from her bottom and legs and picking up her sword.

"Are you sure?" Alistair asked hesitantly. She had not sheathed her sword yet and he wasn't taking any chances.

"Yes, I'm sure. I do not wish to talk about it."

Alistair sighed with relief when she sheathed her sword to join the other on her back.

"If you say so," he said; feeling braver now that the sword was no longer a threat.

"I say so," Darcy mumbled and started off, not caring if the others followed her. She needed to get out of this place and the sooner they got what they needed, the better.


The meal around the campfire was a quiet affair that night. They had walked deeper into the Wilds for another six hours after Darcy's epic fit of anger, but it got dark quickly and they were forced to stop and make camp. Darcy had kept to herself for the rest of the day and nothing Alistair or Jory said or did could get her out of her depression. Of course, it didn't help that Daveth kept hinting at her to join him on his bedroll; promising that she would soon forget all her troubles. Jory was amazed at the man's pigheadedness in refusing to take no for an answer. Darcy had even gone as far as threatening Daveth with removing the troublesome member if he did not cease his attentions towards her, but that did not deter him. Finally, Darcy had leapt up from her seat near the fire and said that she was going to wash in the river and making it very clear that she did not want to be disturbed. The men had let her be.

"Did you hear what that man said?" Jory started looking from Daveth to Alistair.

"He said they came from below the ground. Maker, they slaughtered an entire patrol of the King's soldiers. We are only four." Jory shuddered, thinking back at the sight of the dying man's wounds.

"Never fear, Grey Warden present. We will know if there are any Darkspawn in the vicinity." Alistair puffed out his chest a little and pointed to himself.

"How would you know if they're nearby?" Daveth asked.

"A Grey Warden can feel a Darkspawn presence when it is near, that's one of the things that make us special."

"How does that work?" Jory asked.

"It's a secret that cannot be divulged until you are a fully fledged Grey Warden." Alistair said matter-of-factly.

"If you ask me, there are too many secrets involved in becoming a Grey Warden. Just look at this joining ritual. No one has told us what to expect apart from telling us to come out here and collect three vials of Darkspawn blood. I'm no mage, but it sounds like bloodmagic to me." Daveth complained loudly.

Alistair rolled his eyes at Daveth. He was beginning to dislike the man more and more especially after seeing the way he was leering at Darcy.

"Well, it doesn't do you any good to complain about it. I can't divulge anything to you until the time of your joining."

All three men peered into the darkness surrounding the campfire when they heard footsteps approaching. Darcy appeared out of the shadows followed by her massive hound, whom Alistair had learned was named, Teebone. Alistair had yet to ask Darcy why he was named thus, but with the mood she was in this evening, he had decided to give her a wide berth. Darcy gave them all a level stare before stalking over to her bedroll. Teebone licked his mistress' hand once then sauntered over to the fire and flopped down near Alistair; laying his big head on his paws, he let out a huff of breath and promptly fell asleep.

Alistair watched as she opened her pack, took out a brush and begun combing her hair. There was something quite hypnotic about the way she did that. Jory and Daveth were still talking about the Joining; conjuring up countless possibilities for what the ritual entails.

"I still say this ritual stinks of bloodmagic," Daveth said shaking his head in disgust.

"I know what you mean. It's not like Duncan said anything about any ritual when he recruited me. I have a wife and child to think of, you know." Jory said frowning and poking a stick into the hot embers of the fire.

"You two complain more than a bunch of women having tea," Darcy scoffed from her corner by the fire. She had finished brushing her hair and she now wore it in a long braid that hung just below her shoulders. Taking her whet stone and oils from her pack she walked past Daveth and Jory to go sit near Alistair so that she could sharpen and clean her swords.

"If you join me in my bedroll tonight, I will show you just how much I am not a woman," Daveth grinned lewdly at her and then proceeded to smack her on the rear as she passed him.

Alistair would later swear that everything happened in slow motion, because he remembers the exact moment Darcy lost her temper for a second time that day. The set of her shoulders and the straightening of her back, the set of her jaw and her hands bunched into fists at her side. Unfortunately for Daveth, there was no tree to take the brunt of Darcy's anger. Alistair could only watch as Darcy pulled her right arm back and took a swing at Daveth's face. The sickening crunch of cartilage and the high pitched scream of pain from Daveth told Alistair that Darcy had broken his nose. Without looking back Darcy walked off towards the river again. Teebone jumped up and followed.

"The bitch just broke my nose!" Daveth yelled; clutching his face whilst blood poured out between his fingers.

Jory burst out laughing; holding his sides and struggling to breathe through the paroxysms of his mirth.

"What's so bloody fuddy?" Daveth said; his speech impaired by his broken nose.

"I think you just got your bollocks handed to you on a plate." Alistair said drily and walked off in the direction Darcy had gone in.

She was sitting on a rock near the river nursing her right hand.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side. I'm far too handsome to be sporting a broken nose."

Darcy's back straightened and quickly wiped at her eyes. Alistair presumed she had been crying. Teebone gave a low warning growl at Alistair, but Darcy laid her hand on the beast's head and calmed him.

"I'm sorry, that's twice today that I lost my temper. I'm not normally this bad, I assure you." She gave a small smile and fidgeted with her hands in her lap.

Alistair took it as a sign that she was not about to behead him, so he sat down next to her.

"There's no need to apologize. Daveth had it coming; I'm only surprised you kept from punching the man for so long. As for the tree, well the tree was clearly at fault for being in the way of a very angry lady and a very mean looking sword."

Darcy gave a little laugh and her shoulders relaxed a little. It made Alistair smile too.

"No really, those are some mean looking swords you have there. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like them. They are quite exquisite. What sort of metal was used for the blades that it is almost black in colour?"

Darcy didn't answer for a moment and Alistair thought that she wasn't going to say anything, but then she unsheathed one and handed it to Alistair. The black blade gleamed in the moonlight.

"They have been in the family for many generations. They are made out of dragonbone; that is why the blades look black. It's the only –"

Darcy breathed in deeply. She was about to say that they were the last things her father gave her before he and the rest of the castle were slaughtered, but she could not get the words out. Alistair put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You're Darcy Cousland aren't you?" he asked softly. She nodded, but didn't speak.

"I knew I recognised you. It wasn't until earlier today when you asked that man, Dolph about Fergus Cousland that I remembered that you and I have met before at Redcliffe for Arl Aemon's engagement to the Lady Isolde."

A small smile played on her lips as she regarded Alistair.

"I wondered if you would remember. I was very young, six, I think, but I do remember that summer. Mother kept forcing me to wear dresses and making me curtsy every noble I passed. My cheeks ached from being pinched by everyone; telling me what a darling I was."

Darcy got a far off look in her eyes her smile turning sad and Alistair, for the umpteenth time, wondered what had occurred to make her so upset. The little girl, his first and only friend, for two weeks that summer, with the dark red ringlets that blazed like fire in the sunlight, was happy and giggly, who liked to skip and climb trees; stuffing her petticoats into her stockings and not caring if she got muddy and dirty.

"Little did they know that the little darling could pack a mean punch. Those Howe boys were sporting bruises and black eyes for a whole week after that incident."

Alistair grinned; thinking about it. He had been ordered to stay away from the guests and the party and was moved to the stables at Lady Isolde's insistence so that his room could be given to one of the nobles. He had been very unhappy with the whole situation. Up until Lady Isolde had moved into Redcliffe Castle; he had been treated fairly by Arl Aemon, even if he was constantly reminded that he was not to think of himself as a noble, that he was a bastard born on the wrong side of the sheets. He was so busy feeling sorry for himself that he did not notice Arl Rendon Howe's sons, Nathaniel and Thomas, until he bumped into them; walking around the corner of the barn. They had pushed him against the wall of the barn and started raining punches on him as 'suitable punishment for a bastard.' He had no way of defending their furious punches and kicks apart from curling himself into a ball and waiting for them to get bored. A loud shout caught the Howe boys by surprise and all Alistair could see was a streak of red hair and small fists pummelling the back of Nathaniel Howe's back. She had shouted at them; furious that they would bully someone like that, kicking at their shins and managing to get in a lucky punch; giving Thomas a black eye. The angry little girl was too much for the Howe boys and they fled towards the castle. She had crouched down beside him and had wiped the blood from his split lip with a lacy, white handkerchief. Her hair had come undone and her dress was dirty and slightly torn at the bottom, but she didn't seem to care. She took his hand and helped him up; leading him to sit on an overturned tree stump that was leaning against a shaded corner of the barn's wall. They had become fast friends after that and Darcy came to see him every day bringing him treats that she had managed to smuggle away from the elaborate banquets that were served every evening. It was the best two weeks of his life. It wasn't long after that that he was shipped off to the chantry.

Darcy had become very quiet beside him; the tension back in her shoulders. Alistair took her hand into his and covered it with his other hand.

"Won't you tell an old friend what has happened to make you so upset?"

Darcy did not say anything for a long time, but Alistair didn't push her and instead waited for her to speak.

"They're all gone," she whispered, "and there was nothing I could do. I should have stayed and fought, I should have defended them."

"Who, Darcy, what happened?"

"Father was readying his soldiers to march to Ostagar. Arl Howe and his men were to join our forces for the march, but Arl Howe turned up ahead of his men to tell Father that his soldiers were delayed. Father decided to send Fergus and our soldiers ahead with the intention of catching up with them once the Arl's soldiers arrived."

Darcy shivered and took a deep, ragged breath; trying hard not to cry. Alistair gave her hand a squeeze to comfort her.

"That night I woke up to Teebone's crazed barking, just as three men burst into my room. Their intent was perfectly clear, but my swords are never far from me and I managed to defend myself against their onslaught. I managed to don my armour before I heard a commotion in the hall. One of the servants was trying to protect my mother from being attacked by two more men. It was then that I recognised the crest on their shields. It was Arl Howe's men."

Alistair felt his blood turn cold as he watched the various emotions playing on her face. It was as if she was reliving it as she spoke.

"He betrayed Father. He waited for my father's soldiers to leave and then he took the castle; killing everyone in sight. My brother, he...he doesn't know...his wife and son...their bodies were still warm."

Silent tears coursed down her face and splashed on their hands. Alistair's chest constricted painfully at the thought of her having to live through such an ordeal.

"Mother and I made it to the main hall. We found Rory...Ser Gilmore holding the doors with a few of the house guard. He told us that Father was waiting for us in the pantry at the entrance of the escape tunnel. I wanted Rory to come with us, but he wouldn't. He said that he would hold off those soldiers as long as he could so that we could get to the pantry. I...do not know if he lives."

Darcy paused; her shoulders shaking slightly as she cried her silent tears. Alistair did not know what he could do or say to ease her pain. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand slightly and stroked the top of her hand with his thumb.

"We made it to the kitchens...Nan...oh, Nan...they had killed her too along with the kitchen servants. Their bodies were dumped in a pile as if they were nothing more than rubbish that needed to be thrown away."

Her tears came more freely now, sniffing and hiccoughing, her shoulders shaking with emotion.

"We found Father in the pantry, but he was grievously injured. We all knew he was not going to make it out of there. He had lost too much blood. He insisted that Mother and I leave him and escape, but Mother refused to leave him and I could not leave them there to die. It was my duty to defend them. That was when Duncan found us. With all that was going on, I had forgotten that Duncan had come to Highever to recruit for the Grey Wardens. He had come for Ro...Ser Gilmore. Father made him promise to get me to safety. In return, Duncan asked Father permission to recruit me. I would not go; I wanted to defend my parents. Duncan was forced to use the Right of Conscription on me. Even then he was forced to render me unconscious to get me out of the castle. I was angry at him for the whole journey to Ostagar."

There was a long silence between them. There was no need to speak; it was the comfortable silence of old friends; the trickling of water from the river and the gentle swaying of bulrushes in the breeze were the only sounds.

"I can't even begin to understand what you must be feeling. For what it is worth, I am sorry. Rendon Howe will pay for what he has done. I offer you my help in getting justice for your family."

Darcy looked up at Alistair and gave a watery smile.

"Thank you, Alistair, I appreciate it. I'm sorry for being such a blubbering fool. It will not happen again. Self-pity has never helped anyone. Let's go back to camp; I suppose I must apologize to Daveth for breaking his nose."

Alistair chuckled, "He'll think twice before trying to convince you to share his bedroll again."

Alistair started walking ahead, but Darcy took a moment to collect herself; looking up at the heavens and the twinkling stars. I will make sure that Rendon Howe pays for his crimes. I promise. A rustle in the underbrush startled her and she looked in the direction of the sound. A pair of pale yellow eyes and a silvery coat was all she glimpsed before it disappeared into the night. So it was following them; she thought grimly.