The group made fair progress during the first day, helped greatly by the fact that they were now on horseback, which was a welcome change from the many hours of walking that they had been used to, as well as the clear weather that greeted them as they left Denerim. The warmth of the sun, coupled with a pleasant, cool breeze made it one the more enjoyable journey's that the group had made. It was a welcome change to the wind, rain and snow that had plagued them up until now. The road had been full of people making their way to Denerim. Families fleeing the growing horror in the South, Merchants following the crowds in order to sell their wares. Every one of the travellers had been taken with the group, eyeing the Grey Wardens in particular, some with looks of hope and promise, others with a distinct lack of trust evident in their eyes. Catheryn found that she could hardly blame them, considering all that had happened since the Battle for Ostagar. It would take many years for those stories to die and many more for the Grey Wardens to win back the trust of the people.

Catheryn, Loghain and Maric had carried on ahead to scout for a safe place to make camp for the night. He followed her lead mostly, recognising that, as far as fighting the dark spawn went, her experience vastly outweighed his. However, the premise had not been all that different to when he had been with the outlaws or the rebel army. They needed somewhere secluded, somewhere that only had one entrance and exit to offer the greatest chance of defense should an attack come. The one thankful thing about Ferelden was, such places were not hard to find, whether it was a crevice in a rock face or the shelter of trees.

It wasn't long before the pair had found a suitable location for camp, one that was far enough from the road to remain hidden, but close enough to give them a quick getaway if needed. There was a stream that ran nearby, ideal to refresh the horses before the next day's ride. They were just about to head back to the group when, out of nowhere, Loghain threw his arm up to signal for Catheryn to stop. Bewildered, she watched as he jumped off his horse as though he were a man 30 years younger. Even more surprising was how silent he was despite his heavy armour. He disappeared into the trees, leaving a somewhat confused Catheryn behind, feeling a slight twinge at his sudden disappearance, for, she had already begun to take comfort in his company. It was a strange feeling, to feel instantly comfortable in the company of another, one who did not see her as a little girl, nor as the high born girl who wanted to be the hero. Just by studying his gaze upon her at breakfast, she knew that he respected her as a warrior and he treated her as an equal. He did not use false, patronising tones when he spoke to her, and this meant more to her than he could know.

It was only when Loghain reappeared, deer hoisted over his back that everything became clear. Catheryn grinned softly as he returned, the carcass placed over the back of his horse.

'You do realise that Arl Eamon did give us supplies for the journey? And that Redcliffe is not all that far away, not by horseback at least...'

Loghain noted the tone, it was light and teasing, though, that did not help with the slight feeling of foolishness that he had at this moment. Of course Eamon would have seen them right, he was a good man and wouldn't have sent the group out with inadequate supplies. He knew what had driven him to acting as such, but he wasn't about to admit it to himself or anyone else for that matter.

'We can never be too sure, it is always good to have too many supplies than too little.' His tone was curt and cold and Catheryn bit her lip to stifle the smile. She had hit a nerve and knew better than to continue to poke fun.

'Then, at least we will dine well. It is better to enjoy such things whilst we still can.'

Loghain was impressed, she had completely turned the situation on its head and left him feeling far less foolish than he had done a moment ago. It was a rare talent, most would not have had the intelligence to let situation die. People had a tendency to push things far more than they needed to be.

Catheryn jumped down from her own horse and gave the mare a gentle rub down in thanks before turning to Maric.

'Now, I need you to go and find the others for me, and remember to give Morrigan an extra big kiss, we both know how much she loves it!' Maric let out a great bark of understanding and bounded off into the fading light, leaving Catheryn and Loghain alone to begin setting up the camp. She turned and looked at him, his expression somewhat sombre as he he watched the hound disappear.

'Is everything ok?' Her gentle voice was enough to pull Loghain from his thoughts, the sudden realisation that the fading light meant he could barely see those brilliant eyes of hers.

'Yes, I was just thinking about the Mabari I had when I was younger. Adalla her name was, and I adored her as much as you clearly adore Maric. She was taken by an Orlesian though, for breeding purposes. When I was finally reunited with her, she died in my arms a week later.'

Catheryn blinked for a moment, a little lost for words at the revelation from a man who wasn't exactly known for his openness. She found her words though.

'I'm sorry.'

Turning his head back to her, he nodded a silent thank you, knowing that, simply by the tone of her voice, she had meant those words. He took silent comfort in it as he led both horses over to a row of trees. He hadn't meant for that story to be voiced, he had simply thought it and, there it was, being sounded for her to hear, a story that he hadn't actually told anyone else before. It puzzled him slightly, but, now was not the time to think on it too much.

Catheryn watched him as he busied himself about the camp, starting up a rather sizeable fire and preparing the deer. His expression was unreadable and, those icy blue eyes did not look her way as she studied him. Rising silently from her spot, she moved over to the stream, removing her armour and shivering softly from the coolness of the night air. It was the kind of cool that came after a warm, new summers day, where the night still clung to the chill of the spring air. She felt goosebumps run over her arms but welcomed the feeling. There was nothing more refreshing than the sensation of cool air upon skin after you had been wearing heavy plate armour all day.

His story had given her pause for thought, something in his voice that revealed there was far more pain routed in that complex man than anyone would dare to believe. How much loss had he witnessed at the hands of the Orlesians? How much of the horrors of the rebellion had her father hidden from her? She knew it was to protect her, for she was far too young to comprehend the true horror that was battle, war and loss. Where the heroes of the tales were not tall, shining knights in glittering armour, they were normal men, with blood and gore on their hands, and the deaths of both friends and foes forever haunting their dreams.

All that Catheryn had experienced paled in comparison. Yes, it still hurt that her family had been slaughtered, that she had lost all her childhood friends, but, her life up until that point had been easy, it had been comfortable. She had had every luxury in the world given to her, her every whim had been catered for and her parents went out of their way to try and make sure every desire was hers to be had. Catheryn realised now just how much she had taken it all for granted, how she had always expected that life to be there for her, no matter what may come. Even if she had found a suitor who caught her imagination, he would have had to receive the blessings of both her father and brother, therefore, there would be no doubt that he too would have treated her with all the kindness in the world.

Loghain, however, he had been the son of a farmer. Catheryn did not presume to guess whether his younger years were happy. She was not so naive as to believe that happiness only came from wealth and comfort. But, when the Orlesians did come, when they had turned farmers from their own lands, where was there for them to go? Even with everything at Ostagar, even though she was a Grey Warden, her family name had still helped her and her companions greatly throughout their journey. People were more than willing to provide them with food, or supplies, or a safe haven to escape for the night. That would not be the case for a farmer and his son, she knew this, especially when some Banns were far more interested in saving their fortunes than helping their freeholders. Her own family had been lucky enough to have had the men to guard the stronghold of Highever, the main battles fought against the Howes, who had openly supported the Orlesians. However, this was not the case for much of the nobility not for those who openly supported the Rebellion. Most had been forced to flee their strongholds, much like the Guerrin's of Redcliffe had.

Could she really pass judgement on a man for his hatred of the Orlesians, when she carried the same amount of hatred for Howe and the men who had followed his orders that night? They had stolen her family, taken everything almost everything that she had loved from her and yet, her losses, they were tiny in comparison to the losses of the rebellion and all those involved. Could she blame him for not wanting the Orlesian warden's here? For his mistrust of Duncan?

With a final gasp as the cloth touched her skin, Catheryn opened her eyes, gathering her armour and moving back over to the fire, those brilliant blue eyes on her as she did so. She understood, more than he could realise. Understood his hatred and his fears, understood how they could drive him to taking such drastic action. She knew life was never as black and white as anyone painted it to be and this was yet another stark reminder.

As she lowered herself to her spot, arms wrapped around her chest armour, she looked into those icy blue depths and the gazed lingered on, far longer than it probably should have done. No words were spoken, only the crack of a branch as the flames continued to build. Catheryn could feel her heart skipping in her chest. It wasn't the same pounding that fear brought about, for she was not frightened of Loghain, not in the slightest. This pounding was different, it was a feeling that she had long since forgotten about, and the last time she had felt it was the very first time she had gazed into his eyes in a moment that felt like it was a lifetime ago.

Loghain looked up from the fire as the others found the camp, Maric bounding over to Catheryn before he took it upon himself to sit next to Loghain, watching intently as he turned the deer meat on a makeshift spit.

The sudden intrusion had pulled Loghain from his thoughts, which was probably a good thing as he had spent far too long gazing upon the young warden, watching as she removed her armour to wash herself down in the stream that ran nearby, or when she had returned to the fire, armour in hand, the clothing she wore underneath hugging perfectly at her slender, feminine form, the infamous tanned skin of the Cousland family glowing in the light of the fire, her brown eyes dancing with each flick of the flame. He had watched every movement, admiring every aspect of this young woman, something which was very unlike him. He had his desires, of course he did, he was a man after all, but, he had never been one to give into those desires for anything short of love. He never took any of those tavern wenches to bed whilst with the outlaws, not like so many of his fellows, it just wasn't him. Rowan had been his first, Celia had been his last and that's how he intended it to be. He had already lost so much, already believed that everything he touched turned to dust. No matter how beautiful she was, no matter how she managed to make him feel so at ease around her, he would not get close to her. He would not see her beauty fade by his hands, just as Rowan and Celia had done so. Catheryn deserved a much greater fate than that, and he could give that future to her.

That didn't change the fact that his heart was beating far harder than he would have liked. Just looking into her eyes, it had been like a blanket of warmth had descended upon him. He wasn't sure what had happened, but, in the time she had been at the stream and returned to the fire, she had changed. Her gaze was one of understanding, one of realisation. Maybe he had already let on too much with one simple comment? It wasn't that he didn't welcome the look, nor the hammering of his heart in his chest, however, it was somewhat unexpected. This young warden had so much more to her than would meet the eye and yet, as much as he wanted to know more, he knew that the distance between them must remain.

'If you don't control that great, stinking, slobbering fool of a mutt under control, there will be consequences!'

Maric whimpered and hid behind Loghain, a flash of a memory of the real Maric coming to mind as he did so. Loghain watched as the speaker approached Catheryn, the glint in her eyes, the smile on her lips, it was sight that made Loghain peer back at the fire, lest he get caught staring like some incompetent teenager.

'I have no idea what you're talking about...'

'Oh really? It wouldn't have been encouragement from his owner for that thing to cover me with all his slobber?'

A shout of laughter came from Catheryn, echoed by both Leilana and Zevran, both of whom, had seated themselves either side of the warden and Loghain took note of how it appeared to be a regular thing. They appeared to be firm friends, and Loghain felt a warm twinge run through him as he realised that was all there was between them. Neither one was trying to pursue the young warden, and whilst this may seem strange for one so young and pretty, it also meant that she was far more complex than appearances would make her out to be.

Pushing himself up, Loghain wandered over to the stream where the horses grazed and drank idly, tails flicking at flies, soft snorts escaping their nostrils in response to each other, creating a strange sort of song. It was a clear night, and he took the time to enjoy the spectacle of the night sky, unhindered by the lights of Denerim.

'Our Grey Warden is still young and is inexperienced. She may trust you, but, make no mistake, the rest of us do not.'

Loghain looked to the speaker, a wizened, white haired old mage, one that he imagined had been quite the handful when she was younger. Not entirely unattractive despite her age, however, the look of contempt in her eyes really did sour the overall look. Her face looked torn, between that of someone who had swallowed a bee, and, one who had eaten a lemon. Either way, it did nothing but rile him from the very pit of his core and an anger raged inside him.

'It is good, then, that I do not wish to seek the acceptance or companionship that you offer to Catheryn. She was the one who offered me the chance to seek redemption. She is the only one that I need seek any form of approval from.'

'Be that as it may, you have probably realised already that our young warden has a rare gift, and almost all that meet her take an instant liking to her, for reasons that you may not understand at first. She has become like a daughter to me and, I have already watched her break the heart of another in order to take your side. Understand, if you cause her even the slightest hint of pain or torment, I will hunt you to the black city itself to ensure that you pay.'

Loghain watched as the woman stalked off to the camp, refusing to rise to the bait that the woman had laid before him. There was little to no threat that troubled him any longer, mainly because they were things that he had said to himself before. There were few truths that anyone in the world could pour down on him that he hadn't already beaten himself with. It made things easier to contend with, it was a much needed armour that brought about a strange sense of peace.

Taking a deep breath and turning his head away from the group once more, he let that breath out slowly, watching as it misted slightly in the cool night air. There had been another who was blessed with the same easy, loveable grace that Catheryn had been, and that was Maric. Wherever they went, people loved him, they adored him. He had managed to evoke such strong emotions in those people that they fought and laid their lives down for him. He had even succeeded in battering down Loghain's walls, walls that had lingered for so long. He had a way of making Loghain forget about the severity and the enormity of the task ahead of them, sometimes, even forgetting just how angry and hateful that he was towards the Orlesians. It had helped Loghain feel almost human again, something that he had truly been fearful of losing.

But, Catheryn was different, she inspired a different kind of loyalty. People didn't simply want to fight for her, or lay their lives down for her. They wanted to fight beside her, to be seen as her equal, to be involved in her life, wherever it may take them. It was a queer feeling, and it had certainly seemed to infect all the companions around her. They all cared for and loved her in their own way, everyone from the wizened old wizard to the ruthless Qunari and, Loghain could feel the beginnings of similar affection in himself. He would never openly admit it, and he had had many years practice when it came to hiding it from other people, however, as he turned to the group, those piercing brown eyes glancing passed the fire and holding his gaze once more, there was no doubt in his mind. However long they had left, they were most likely to be his most interesting yet.