A/N: So now that we've caught up, things are going to slow down. A lot. This one's a lot longer, though not all of the chapters will be this long. I just... couldn't stop.
Anyway, enjoy. Let me know how you're liking the story. Or if you aren't. Or don't. I'm not gonna beg. :)

Translations(basic):
Falon: friend
Ir abelas: Very sorry
Tel'abelas: Not sorry
Ma'serannas: I'm grateful
Shemlen: Quickened, used to refer to humans, or non elvhen in general.
Garas: Come, beckon, follow
Atisha: Peace
Hamin: Relax. Used together they basically mean 'calm down', or 'chill out'. Also "sleep peacefully", if used as Hamin atisha.
If I missed any, let me know. I got these from the wiki. That might not always be the case. ;)

It all seems so surreal.

She's spent the better part of the past two weeks in the Hinterlands, gathering resources and running errands for half the countryside. Today she wants a moment for everyone to relax. No missions today. No gods-blasted rifts to close.

She walks around Haven, watching people working, listening to the never-ending recitals of the Chant of Light, scoffing and shaking her head quietly. While she doesn't entirely disagree with the chant, she hears it so often that it's lost most of it's poignancy for her. And she doesn't believe in the Maker.

She knows the gods of elvhen lore exist. The gods her people have worshiped for thousands of years. While they were wrong about many things, they were not wrong about that.

The voices from the well still speak to her just as strongly as the day she drank from it. And even if they didn't, she knows one of those gods is standing quietly by the apothecary's hut, probably looking up and shaking his head at the hole in the sky.

She wonders what he really thinks about the Breach, what his hidden thoughts are on the hell he unleashed on the world? Not that he personally tore the hole in the sky; she doubted he would've chosen that fate for Thedas, no matter his motivations. But it was his foci, that he let slip from his grasp, which caused all of this.

And this time, she is no longer an ignorant elf from clan Lavellan. This time, she is armed with the wisdom and knowledge to speak to him, if not as an equal, then at least not as a child; fumbling to understand, to grasp the nature of the things he speaks to her of.

She wanders to the gates, swinging them open to stand watching Cullen training his soldiers. She remembers flirting with him at first the last time, until the mystery of the elf in simple clothing had caught her eye. She realizes now that simple facade is yet another of his tricks, a means to blend in. Even his endless fount of knowledge about everything under the sky was shielded by him, with the thin disguise of his claim to having learned it all in the Fade. What a load of wolf shit.

She'd been too blinded by love to see it the last time. Even the voices of the well hadn't revealed his treachery to her before it happened, because she had never thought to ask until it was too late. After, she asked. After, they told her everything.

She'd sought him out in the Fade then, seen the vision of him stealing the power of Mythal, her lifeless husk collapsing to the ground under his watchful gaze. She'd gasped, the tears spilling from her eyes as she watched him turn sharply in her direction, though she was never sure if he'd actually seen her or not, because his eyes...

It had been too much. She'd woken in a cold sweat, gasping for air as if her lungs were collapsed by the weight of what she'd witnessed. How desperate was he for power, that he would steal the divinity of another god to achieve his goals? What were his goals, to begin with? The voices had whispered to her as much as they knew, but it was not enough. They did not know what his current plans were, only what he had once done, long ago. Another thing her people had gotten wrong.

She sighs as she turns away from the flash of steel and the dull thuds of wooden shields clashing against one another. She knows she must speak to him at some point. She's been avoiding all attempts he's made to speak to her so far, shifting them to conversations with her other party members. Now, she has little choice. She must be careful in how she deals with him; she cannot reveal too much of what she knows, or he will likely flee. How long will she be able to deceive a deceiver, however? She has to be very careful, indeed.

She decides to visit Adan first, to give her some time to steel her nerves. She remembers having to retrieve some notes for him anyway, may as well 'find out' about that and go get them. A mindless task to give her more time to consider.

She's trailing up the steps to the Apothecary's hut when she hears her title called by his voice. She barely manages to silence the groan building in her throat; she is not ready for this yet.

"Herald, a moment, if you will." His voice, quietly confident and smooth as silk, feels like shards of broken glass to her heart.

She turns, crossing her arms rather than keeping them open; one more barrier she can comfort herself with as she looks at him.

"Solas, right?" her mind burns as she forces her mouth to say his name once again.

She notes his minute hesitation as he swallows the fact that she'd had to confirm his name with him. As if he weren't quite important enough in her mind to remember if that was right or not, despite having accompanied her since the beginning. He quickly covers it with a carefully gracious smile.

"Yes. I wanted to ask you something, if you can spare the time?"

She nods, rather than trust her voice at the moment.

"Since we met, you've seemed... pained at my presence. I confess, I am still not quite sure what to make of that. Unless, of course, my assumption is incorrect. I hope I don't appear too presumptuous, seeing as I don't exactly know you yet. I would simply not wish to cause you any undue stress; you are already under enough strain as it is. You seem to be avoiding me, and I'd like to know why," his eyes convey nothing but honest concern.

She hesitates, looking down as she tries to find a way out, speaking before slowly lifting her gaze to his.

"You... you remind me of someone who was once very dear to me. Someone who hurt me deeply. You even have the same eyes. It startles me, that's all. I'm sorry if I've come off as harsh, things have been happening so quickly, I really haven't had much time for pleasantries. If it's not rifts, it's someone needing me to retrieve this or that."

She watches as he absorbs her confession, sympathy coming over his features, along with a cloud of regret.

"Oh. I am sorry if I make you uncomfortable, that was not my intention."

She waved his concern off with her hand, quickly returning it to her crossed arm.

"No need to apologize. It's not your fault; you can't help how you look. I'll get over it soon enough."

She grit her teeth slightly as she smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

"So," he looks down, then up again quickly, a look she knows means he is both testing her and sating his curiosity all at once, "The Herald of Andraste. That's quite the title. How do you feel about that?"

She chuckles uneasily. "It makes me uncomfortable at best, though I understand why the masses who believe in such things need it. It would not have been my first choice, but, it's better than 'the prisoner that killed the Most Holy and the entirety of the gathering at the conclave'."

He raises a brow slightly. "It is good that you have the wisdom to understand their need, even if you do not desire the title yourself. Let us hope that once the Breach is sealed, they do not cast you aside, as they have done to so many of your people."

"My people? Are you not elvhen yourself?" she knows the answer, of course, but she must play the part properly, if she is to play at all.

He at least has the decency to look somewhat contrite before he raises his head and explains, "Apologies. I do not see myself as belonging to either the Dalish or city elves, in truth. I have spent too much time in the Fade, seeking the knowledge lost to the time of the ancient elves, to truly feel as if I belong among them anymore."

"You sound as if you've spent more time in the Fade than the average mage, then. If I may ask, how much have you explored it?"

This time, both his eyebrows raise.

"A great deal, though one can never fully explore all of the Fade, of course. It is infinite."

She nods, "This is true. I'm just curious if we've explored similar paths or not. I have explored quite a bit myself, even before all this."

He smiles, his brow knitting together slightly, his expression one of a scholar studying a fascinating subject.

"Have you indeed? I did not think to find a fellow dreamer here. I must say, I find myself curious to know if you have considered Fade magic as a field of study. It can be quite useful, in many circumstances."

She chuckles, "I have, though I've only learned a few things on my own. My clan's Keeper didn't exactly approve, though she didn't entirely discourage it, either."

His expression darkens slightly, "I can imagine. Not many of the Dalish value magic outside the realm of the typical paths of study. It is disheartening to see. But, come, will you show me what you have learned? I could teach you some of it, if you are willing, though I am sure there are others who are better at it than I."

She scoffs in her mind, but nods, showing none of her ridicule externally. "Certainly. We should go outside the walls, though; I wouldn't want to cause a ruckus."

He sweeps his hand to the side with a smile, "Lead the way."

She considers grabbing her gear, but decides against it and turns, heading down the steps and by the tavern, winding through the small gatherings of people on the way. It isn't until they are past the tavern that he speaks again.

"So you neglected to tell me where you have visited whilst traveling the Fade. If it is not an imposition, I am quite curious to know."

She smiles. Oh, the irony, that he should be asking her these questions, when she was the one asking him before. Now, she knew. Now, she'd been to many of the places he'd spoken of, dreamt there, learned there. Now, she had ages of memories in her head to fill the gaps of her own knowledge.

"Hmm. One of the most notable places for recent history was Ostagar."

"Really? I have been there myself. The juxtapositions of memory there are quite fascinating. I am surprised to hear you have been there, however. Were you not with your clan when you went there?"

She shakes her head, "They were nearby, but I wanted to explore the area myself. It wasn't until I returned that I found out our Keeper had sent two of our hunters to keep watch over me from a distance as I slept. She's never really trusted that I could resist temptation on my little excursions."

He cocks his head slightly, features curious. "Temptation? Did she believe your will weak enough that you would consort with demons as you slept?"

She sighs, "I truly don't know. I know she feared such a thing happening, but whether she believed me incapable of tending to myself, or if she was simply paranoid, I am unsure."

He frowns, gazing ahead as if in deep thought. "If your Keeper truly believed your will was that weak, she was wrong."

She snorts, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so? And what has lead you to this astounding conclusion?"

He stops just outside the gates, turning to her with a thoughtful, but serious expression. She halts and looks at him in kind, waiting.

"If you were prone to such weakness, you would not still be standing here. The mark on your hand would have killed you as you slept. Instead, we are having this conversation, and you are alive and well, the mark stabilized. Or simply the act of you walking physically in the Fade would have killed you. What you have survived is truly remarkable, and I do not think it would have been possible, if you did not have an extreme amount of control and will to support you. It is remarkable."

She raises an eyebrow coyly, "So it would seem."

She smiles and walks on, heading toward the outskirts of the soldier's encampment. She hears him follow after a few moments, chuckling to herself as she walks. She quiets before he catches up to her, but apparently not quickly enough.

"What is so amusing, if I may ask?"

"You may, though you might not enjoy the answer I provide."

He huffs, though she can't tell if it's frustration or amusement. His expression is perplexed. "Humor me."

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You are studying me, as a specimen, a field of interest, as if I am some rare tome that contains unknown magic. I assure you, despite my mark, I am no such treasure."

He takes a step back, as if her words were a physical force, his face a mixture of emotions that flash before her eyes almost too quickly to recognize, save one: open curiosity. He finally settles on remorse before he speaks.

"I apologize once more if I have made you uncomfortable. It seems to be a recurring theme."

She smiles at his apology, "Tel'abelas, Solas. You may study me as you wish. It does not offend me. I simply find it amusing. So long as my amusement does not form a problem for you, I do not see an issue."

His brow lifts, though his eyes are guarded, "Ma serannas, Herald. You are far more forgiving than my rudeness deserves."

She shakes her head, "It is not rudeness to be curious. But I wish that you would not call me that. The shemlen may call me what comforts them, but I would prefer you think of me as more than my title. Or less, if you wish. Other, at the very least."

His brow crinkles, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly, "What would you prefer I call you, then?"

"My name, if you are comfortable with that. You are likely one of the few who could speak it without mangling the pronunciation."

He looks ahead at the valley before them, brow still creased, lips no longer smiling. "There is power in names. Are you sure you wish you give me that power?"

She smirks, "You speak of calling my name in the Fade and being able to summon me to you, or visiting me in turn, yes?"

He steals a somewhat surprised glance at her, before rooting his gaze back onto the far side of the valley once more.

"Then you are fully aware of the power I speak of. Interesting," he turns to her then, halting their progress at the edge of the frozen river, "Are you certain you wish to grant me this power, then, knowing what it could entail? We are both dreamers, however we do not know each other very well. Are you sure you would trust me with that knowledge?"

His gaze searches her face as she turns it up to him, though she is keenly aware that what he is looking at is her vallaslin. It is barely visible, nearly the color of her skin, but in direct sunlight, it is visible to the keen eye. The mark of Fen'Harel. She watches as his eyes widen at the realization that she bears his rarely seen mark. She bites the inside of her bottom lip to suppress the smirk that tries to form on her face. He focuses on her eyes, seeming to shake himself free of the shock he felt.

She tilts her head to the side, appearing as if she is considering his question. Her subtle action highlights the trail of his mark down her neck and below the collar of her robe. She watches his eyes trail down, noting the subtle tightening in his throat as he observes the path of her vallaslin.

She speaks then, straightening and looking him in the eyes as his gaze snaps up to meet hers, "The one you remind me of... I see much of him in you. He betrayed me in the end, but one cannot live on an island amongst the world. If I do not learn to trust again, he will have won. I cannot allow that. My clan was Lavellan; though, I find it likely that I am not destined to return to them. My name, the name I chose when I chose my vallaslin, is Fen'da'len."

A perfect blend of amusement and concern, with a considerable amount of wonder fixes itself on his face. He looks at her for a few moments, as if he is considering what to make of her. When he finally speaks, his voice is choked at first, either from emotion or holding laughter in, she cannot tell. Likely both.

"Y-you chose this name? Wolf Cub? And Fen'Harel's brand?"

"Yes."

"I realize this might sound impertinent, but I must ask: why? Do not the Dalish fear the Dread Wolf? Do they not tell fanciful tales of him being the betrayer of the old gods, the doom of the elves? Why would you chose such things for yourself? Surely your Keeper objected."

She grins, looking down and chuckling as she feels a slight flush rise on her cheeks, "She did indeed. But she also knew I was never one to follow the rules. I have always been a rebel. I was the one who transported the statue of Fen'Harel for my clan, who prayed to him to guard the places where we laid our heads to sleep every night. My Keeper knew I reveled in this task from a young age. One night, we were camped at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, and a young woman found me as I tended to Fen'Harel's statue. She was alone, simply curious, I expect. She did surprise me though, as she was not a young woman when she first appeared to me."

His raised eyebrow conveys his curiosity, "Oh? What was she?"

She smirks, "A wolf. I must admit, when I first saw her, I knew she was not simply a wolf, but in my ignorance, I mistook her for Fen'Harel himself. I was very young, so the mistake was easily made. When I fell to my knees in front of the wolf, thinking my prayers had finally been answered -that Fen'Harel himself had made himself known to me, that he had finally come to deliver me from a clan I never truly belonged in- she transformed, revealing herself as the young human woman she was. I begged her to show me how she did it. I don't know why, but she took pity on me."

She looks around, the tree line surrounding the old Apothecary's house behind her catching her eye. "Garas," she took his hand, "follow me."

It isn't until they are well within the cover of the wooded area, away from the eyes of anyone else, that she lets go of his hand. She'd forgotten how warm his hands were, even in the frigid cold. Her traitorous heart leaps at the feeling, but she quells it as best she can.

She turns to face him, a feral grin on her lips as she holds her hand up, signaling him to wait. It's been a long time since she's done this, but the memory surfaces, the magic swells, and she lets herself fall forward onto large black paws. She shakes her fur coat out, stretching and luxuriating in the sensation, before she sits on her haunches in the snow and looks up at him, cocking her head to the side, ears alert.

He smiles. It's small at first, only a tug up at the corner of his lips, his arms crossing over his chest as he looks down at her. She tilts her head the other way, letting herself pant as she looks at him openly. His smile slowly broadens into a grin, lowering himself to a relaxed seated position, one knee up, resting his arm on it as he looks at her on her level. She moves a bit closer, leaving herself within reach, but sitting a polite distance away from him. Small concessions. Baby steps.

She sees his fingers twitch, but keeps eye contact, not wanting to discourage him. His arm leaves its resting place on his knee as he offers her his hand, raising an eyebrow in question. She ducks her nose under it, still keeping her eyes trained on his, giving permission, but watching. He gives a small stroke up the bridge of her nose, trailing up between her eyes before moving his hand away. She cocks her head to the side curiously, trying to impart what she's thinking, 'That's it?'. When he doesn't move to do anything else right away, she gives a low whimper and sinks to her belly, resting her chin on her paws and looking up at him pitifully.

He chuckles and looks away for a moment, as if embarrassed. Whether it is for his sake or hers, she is unsure. Perhaps he thinks her foolish for such a display? It would've been rather undignified indeed, if she were still in her natural form. Perhaps that is the cause of his hesitation. If that is the case-

She catches a scent that is not theirs nearby, standing quickly, her great head pointed toward the origin of the foreign scent. A quiet growl starts in the back of her throat, her hackles raising stiffly on her back. Her ears pick up the clunking sounds of steel plate armor. The lack of care taken to conceal the tromping steps is evident, as she hears twigs snap under boots that would march to a soldier's beat on more sure footing. She darts in the direction of the disturbance, circling around carefully, padding lightly, investigating. She nears the commotion that disturbs the forest, the scent growing stronger in her wet nostrils. Finally, she gets a clear view of fur tufting out over rich fabric and polished metal.

She sighs in relief. She can avoid Cullen if she must. She doubles back quickly to find Solas where she'd left him, though he is standing now, raising an eyebrow at her in question. She shakes herself, dismissing the transformation and standing before him in her original form again.

She whispers, "Cullen," watching understanding dawn on him as he replies with a quick nod.

He whispers back in kind, "Perhaps we should retire to a more secluded spot, if you wish to continue uninterrupted?"

She shakes her head, "Not yet. He'll just keep looking if he doesn't find us. He's an ex-Templar, it's what they do. Old habits are hard to break."

Solas grimaces and sighs quietly. He looks distinctly uncomfortable with the situation, though she can't quite place why. She rolls her eyes and decides to employ one of her Fade magic tricks. She waves her hand over him slowly as she starts to hear Cullen's clumsy trampling of the forest floor with her elvhan ears, creating a pocket in the veil to hide Solas for the time being. She can maintain it long enough to send Cullen away.

Finally, he arrives, stopping abruptly as he rounds a tree to see her, apparently alone.

"Herald! Are you alright? I saw you heading this way a half hour ago, I was a bit worried when you didn't return."

She smiles easily at him. She's always liked Cullen; he was never anything but genuine with her. "Yes, Cullen, I am well. Thank you for your concern. I just need to get out for a bit, breathe some air, take a walk. I promise, I won't go far. I just need to clear my head. I'll be along soon."

He gives a small bow, "Of course, I understand. By your leave."

She nods and smiles kindly as she leans back against a tree twice as wide as she is while he turns to leave, gazing up at the sunlight filtering through the trees. She is the picture of ease, visually confirming her story flawlessly. When she sees the last flash of steel disappear with Cullen through the trees, she snaps her fingers, releasing her spell. Just in time, too, as she's nearly depleted her mana. Solas slowly appears through a shimmer of the veil, fully emerging seconds later.

He crosses his arms over his chest, eying her speculatively.

She raises an amused eyebrow at him, "Yes?"

He seems to consider his words carefully. She watches the muscles of his jaw twitch as he continues to bore through her with stormy eyes. When he finally does speak, the pride dripping from his voice is unmistakable.

"You must have been the absolute terror of your Keeper's nightmares."

Her careful mask is shattered as she peers at him in shock, "Why in the world would you say that? What have I done that's so nightmarish?"

He lifts a hand to gesture to her, "Would you like me to list the reasons?"

She snorts incredulously, surprise still strong on her visage, "If you like."

He begins to pace slowly, ticking the reasons off on his fingers as he strolls, still smiling, "You have not one, but two rare forms of magic in your arsenal, one of which would no doubt greatly disturb any modern elf. You bear the vallaslin of a reviled deity, one you chose to associate yourself with. Even your very name is meant to honor him, in your unique way. You have a strength of will unlike anything I have seen outside of the Fade. You have entirely too open a mind for any Dalish clan to be fully tolerant of, even one who regularly trades with outsiders. You stalked Cullen with the skill of the very beast whose form you had assumed. And last, but not least, you handled a direct confrontation with such flawless lies that even I almost believed you, despite knowing the truth."

He stops in front of her, looming over her slightly, eyes alight with curiosity as he regards her, "What manner of creature are you?"

She has to be careful here. It would be all too easy to tip her hand right now, to slip up and say too much. She creases her brow in mild confusion, an affectation, but a necessary one. "What is it you think I am, exactly?"

She waits as he continues to dissect her with his eyes for what is sure to be only a few seconds, but feels like years. She can't flinch. Her veneer of innocent confusion has to be made of iron to withstand his scrutiny. The tension between them is tight enough to snap if even a fleck of dust lands on it.

"I confess, I do not know," the admission seems to physically pain him, a faint grimace fracturing his careful mask of scrutiny, "and it perplexes me greatly."

He tore away from her suddenly, returning to his pacing with quickened strides, interrupted only by the occasional sidelong glance, aimed in her vicinity. She realizes he is muttering to himself, the ancient elvish translating fluidly thanks to the voices from the well when she catches snippets of it that he speaks too loudly. He sees her as a puzzle. One he must unravel ...could ruin all his careful planning. He dissolves into petty cursing in his frustration. She decides to end his quiet tirade.

"Atisha hamin, Solas; I did not mean to cause you distress with my question. If I knew what it would cause, I would not have asked. Ir abelas. I am an elf, that is all. An elf with unusual preferences, perhaps, but still only an elf. I cannot be the only elf among the clans to have my preferences or talents, I am sure. Aside from the mark, I suppose." She holds her marked hand up, then lets it fall back to her side in a shrug.

Her words have some effect, though she is unsure how much. His pacing slows and the muttering ceases, at least. After a few moments, he turns and stops, shoulders slumping with a sigh that deflates him. He looks at her, sullenly, hooded eyes guarded. He nods.

"You are right, of course. Ir abelas, Fen'da'len. My frustration is not of your creation. There is simply something..." he trails off, eyes casting down and away.

It was dangerous to ask, but it would seem more odd if she didn't, "Something...?"

He turns his regard to her once more, almost reluctantly. "There is something beyond the mark that is unique to you. I cannot pinpoint it, but that is hardly your fault. I am afraid I have turned out to be poor company for you. I apologize."

She shakes her head with a small smile, "Not at all, Solas," she reaches out and takes his hand gently, folding it between both of hers, "Despite your worry, I have enjoyed this. It was a very welcome distraction from reality. It has been very long indeed since I have had the chance to be a wolf. To share that with someone who didn't immediately run screaming from it was more comforting than you realize."

She watches, fascinated, as she sees him swallow, the guarded look of his eyes falling to give way to a profound sorrow. He turns to her fully, smiling sadly and folding his free hand over hers as he comments.

"I understand better than you might imagine."

She smiles, and it feels easier to smile now, in his presence, than it should. The gaping hole of agony that has been her constant companion for the past month and a half -ever since he'd torn her heart out in that beautiful grotto- is reduced to a low ache. For now. She holds onto the feeling; she knows it is fleeting, and fickle. But for now, she almost feels whole again. It makes her bold.

"Can I..." she chuckles half-heartedly at her foolishness and looks down, blushing. She should not ask after such small, silly things.

"Please, continue." The tone of his voice is sincere, at least.

"Can I ask why you laughed and looked away before I smelled Cullen coming? I know it's silly to ask, I'm mostly wondering because I'm afraid I made a fool of myself." She knows she is likely red from her neck to her ear tips, but she is still curious. She feels the hand he'd clasped over their other hands lift away, only to feel the pressure of his finger under her chin, gently guiding her to look at him. Once she complies, he returns his hand to grasping hers.

"If anyone was a fool, it was I. Your wolf... it was beautiful. I was jealous, if I am to be perfectly honest. In the Fade, I can be anything I choose. Here, I have only this form. To see you wield such a rare gift... I should not have been so selfish as to think only of myself. I find I must apologize to you again. It is not often I have to do this so frequently. If you wish, I would be happy to indulge your shifting powers for a small while. I can believe it when you say you do not get the chance very often. I would not begrudge you this opportunity simply because of my petty jealousy."

She cannot help the smile that pulls at her lips and spreads across her face. "I would love that, though I'm afraid it would leave you bereft of a conversation partner."

He gives a kind smile and shakes his head gently, "Not at all. You expressed yourself quite well when you were a wolf. I found I was bereft of nothing, aside from the ability to shift myself."

His smile is infectious. A blush tints her cheeks softly, "Then I won't keep you waiting any longer."

She chuckles, a sound that turns into a snuffling huff as she transforms, taking her paws out of his hands gently and planting them on his chest. She noses his hands as he laughs, light and clear as it finds her ears. He reaches out, sweeping his hand across her head and curling behind her ear to scratch softly. She leans into the pressure, her eyelids drooping in pleasure, making a contented grunt as her eyes close completely. He returns to stroking her head and neck, seeming to know exactly what would feel comforting to her. As if he was recalling it from memory. Her thoughts are intruded by his voice, her eyes opening to see his looking at her with wistful sadness.

"You take to it as naturally as if you were born to it, little wolf. The young woman you met as a child may have taught you the ancient art, but you have turned it into more than magic. It is part of you, no more apart from you than your green eyes or your indomitable will. It is a pleasure to watch."

She watches him as he smiles sadly, letting his hand drift over the side of her face, still stroking her fur gently. She feels sorrow for him, a tether tugging at her heart. She moves her paws to his shoulder, leaning forward to rest her head on her paws, the closest she can get to comforting him in her current form. He gives a surprised chuckle, moving his arms to return the gesture and embrace her.

"I thank you for your comfort, little wolf. Unexpected though it may be, it is not unwelcome."

The temptation to stay there, wrapped in his arms, even in this form is strong. She'd never shown him this form before, keeping it secret. Never told him the story of how she got it, or how she was the one to look after his statue. She is in uncharted territory here, but she has the advantage of knowing him, at least. When she feels his embrace slacken slightly, she pulls back, setting her paws down to the ground. She circles him once, looking up to him as she moves to his front again. He is watching her carefully, a guarded smile tugging at his lips.

"Would you like me to sit again?"

She looks away, deeper into the forest, nodding her head in that direction as she looks back at him.

"Follow you, then?"

She doesn't respond, simply padding toward the trees, leaving it up to him. When she hears his steps follow, she snuffles a laugh quietly. He never could resist his curiosity, whether in regard to her, or anything else they'd encountered. It was one of the qualities she enjoyed most about him, even when it almost always lead to trouble. Especially because of that.

"Where are you leading me, little wolf? Your laugh is not reassuring."

She stops. She turns back to him, regarding him in her own curiosity. He'd realized she was laughing, even in this form? How interesting. She wonders if he is lying about being able to shift, or simply exceptionally observant. She returns to him, nosing his hand to urge him on. She moves on, treading toward the small clearing she knows is ahead from when she'd discovered it the last time she'd been here. She doesn't laugh when he follows, reluctantly.

The forest thickens before they reach their destination, proving more of a challenge for him than her. But they emerge in the clearing soon enough, the sun warming the grass and their fur and skin alike. She moves to a small patch of blue flowers the color of his eyes, curling herself around the patch and laying comfortably in the warmth. She turns to see his eyes wide with wonder, drinking in the sight of such a warm place in the middle of so much snow and ice.

"How is this possible? It is as if..." he drifts off, letting his magic drip from his fingertips to reach out and sense the truth for him.

She smiles and stands, shaking the wolf form off, turning to look at him understandingly. "It is a phenomenon I don't encounter often, but the veil is very thin here. It would not appear to any without magic as it does to us. Where we see and feel a warm spring clearing, others would see what they expect- a cold, snowy space in the middle of the forest." Another thing she hadn't shown him before. But what good would doing exactly the same thing as before do anyone? Aside from stopping their enemy, naturally. That would still happen, regardless.

He tilts his head, eyes studying her. "How did you find this? You've hardly had time to breathe, let alone explore the forest at random."

She chuckles, "Been spying on me, have you?"

He seems surprised at her question, "Spying? Hardly. Watching, yes. But that is not so unusual. Everyone watches you. They listen to the words you say, keep a check on the decisions you make, watch you rise to meet the challenge you have been given at every turn. You are important, intrinsic to the success of our goal."

"I see. And is this why you study me so keenly?"

He hesitates only a moment, but she sees it. And his guard is up when he answers, "Partly."

She raises a brow, "Partly?"

"Yes."

A wicked smirk graces her face, "You realize that is not an answer, yes? Your secrecy wounds me."

Oh, how true those words are.

His guard softens, his expression long-suffering, but sympathetic. "I do not mean to wound you, little wolf. Nor do I mean to betray the trust you have shown me today; a trust I am shocked at, all things considered. It is indeed partly due to what you have shown me, that I am unsure of my reasons now. You have surprised me greatly. It is rare that I find myself this unsure of anything, let alone a person."

She considers his words, pausing and bowing to the patch of flowers to pick one. She turns and walks to him, deftly tucking the flower's stem into one of the empty lace holes on his over shirt. She smirks as he looks down at the flower in his shirt with a slightly baffled expression.

"They bring out the color of your eyes beautifully. Consider it a gift for your honesty. When you are sure of your reasons, tell me. Until then, enjoy the day."

With that, she turns and transforms, darting out of the clearing in a burst of speed that is somewhat fueled by the blushing embarrassment beneath her furred cheeks. When she is concealed enough to be sure he can't see her, but still close enough to watch him, she turns and observes.

She watches his eyes lower from the place he'd last seen her to the flower, plucking it from his shirt and twirling is softly by its stem. A small smile evolves into a chuckle, and he shakes his head. Then a pained sorrow eclipses his joy, making him sigh shakily. He looks at the flower as if it's a precious gift he's been given, but doesn't deserve. He gently places it in the palm of his hand, sinking to the ground and crossing his legs, the flower cradled in his hands over his lap.

He lowers his head and she can feel the edges of the magic when it begins to spread from him, stepping quietly to avoid it, lest he find her there. It recedes slowly, forming around the edges of the clearing. Suddenly, she notices small green plants sprouting all across the clearing, uncurling and pointing themselves at the warm sun as petals unfold. The petals turn from green to the same color as the flower he holds.

The entire floor of the clearing is changed from just a simple place of peace, to a masterful artwork of nature. It is breathtaking in its beauty and simplicity. She feels his magic recede once more, slowly slipping back into him as if it had never left to begin with. He raises his head, looking at what he's created with a small smile. The peaceful look on his face is as striking as his surroundings, one she has never seen before. Even when she'd caught him sleeping before, where he should logically be at his most peaceful, she'd had the urge to smooth out the crease between his brow with her fingers. It isn't needed here.

She wonders at him never having shown her this form of his magic before. What else had he been hiding, aside from the obvious deception that he'd fooled everyone with? She has so many questions; questions she dare not ask yet. She's not sure when they should be asked, but they will have to be before the year is out. She only has to bide her time for now, and keep the truth hidden.

She waits.