Kahlé dragged behind Duncan, the first few days of their trip to Ostogar had been silent and slow. She barely ate, nightmares plagued her sleep and upon waking panic consumed her like it did in the castle. Duncan always watched diligently, standing guard as the screaming and shaking ceased. Once she calmed and she became reduced sniveling, he retreated back to his own tent to sleep whatever night was left. He eventually coerced her into small talk, then longer small talk, and began asking her questions about her life in the alienage. Her nightmares took place in the alienage, but the monsters in them were not from her home. Telling stories about her people and her youth turned to be therapeutic. Soon she was regaling tales of her rogue abilities, and Duncan returned the favor with his own.

Her appetite returned, and the nightmares weakened as her angst wore away. As Duncan packed camp again, he noticed Kahlé staring intently at his ornate dagger. The corner of his mouth twisted up in a smirk, moving his thick beard with it. He coughed subtly, looking at her. She caught his gaze and squirmed in her spot, trying to keep him from reading her thoughts. He picked it up, running a finger down the smooth part of the blade. She stared again, watching as the morning sun glimmered off the metal.

"You know, I have another one of these, in Denerim actually." She focused on his speaking, her long ears perked. "The grey wardens have a vault behind a warehouse. Once you've gone through the joining we can get you some proper equipment." She smiled giddily in response, her twisted teeth finally free from her solemn state.

"I've only ever had one real weapon… It was my mother's. I lost it in the fortress, and I had to use whatever knives or weapons we found laying around." Duncan pursed his lips, then dropped his pack. He pulled some clothing from the bag, and ripped it into even shreds.

"Turn around," Duncan said without explanation. Kahlé backed away slowly with delicate steps. Her body tensed again, and she was ready to fight him even if she knew she would probably lose. He stood with the strips in hand, dangling them in one hand and beckoning her with the other. If he was going to hurt me, she thought, he probably would have done it already. She turned and sat on a stump, exhaling deeply. He wrapped the cloth around her eyes, and guided her to stand. "Stay right there," he said and walked away. She heard the crunch of his footsteps, then suddenly they quieted to nothing. Unable to see except for weak rays of light that passed through the cloth, her other senses seemed heightened. Manually slowing her breathing, the only sounds were of nature. Birds chirping, the babbling of a nearby brook, things she never experienced in the alienage. Suddenly a swift movement to the back of her legs wrecked her balance, and she was on her back.

She scrambled to stand, placing her feet apart to give her a more sturdy defense. She spread her arms out and moved them methodically, searching for what had attacked her. Again a force knocked her to the ground, pushing the breath from her body. Now instead of being tactical her movements were quick and impatient. She felt the impact of something on her legs again, this time lashing out at it but catching nothing but the air. She laid on the ground, slowing her breathing to silence and listening. Listening to the sounds of the morning, how the birds chirped at the sun rise. Beneath it all, a quiet crunch of leaves, making even less noise than her own heartbeat. She waited, silent, holding her breath. When the crunching was within range, she reached, and made contact with smooth leather. She curved her body around it, her arms wrapped tightly. She pushed, and the weight crashed onto the ground. The leaves crunched again, and a deep laughed escaped from the body next to her. She removed the blind fold, blinking vacantly at the shem. This was a game, he was playing with her. "Now, you can see why a calm ear can prevail over undisciplined attack." He stood, brushing dirt off the sleeves of his worn undershirt. He extended his hand and she flinched, but the limb remained outward. Delicately, Kahlé wrapped her fingers around his wrist, and Duncan returned with a strong grip as he pulled her onto her feet.

Their stops at each camp got progressively longer as Duncan taught her more skills and training became more rigorous. She proved a natural learner, reveling in the art of rogue combat. She used her thin build to her advantage, developing her own technique for incapacitating foes. She'd slide between Duncan's legs whenever his stance allowed, mock slicing his ligaments that in the field would make for an easy kill. Soon Ostagar was in sight,

"only a day's walk," Duncan had said. She sensed a dark foreboding emanating from him. As they settled down for camp, she decided to poke into his head for a little.

"So, there's a blight you said? I wouldn't know much about that…" She looked over to Duncan, who sighed audibly.

"Once an old God is found by the darkspawn, they taint it and it becomes an archdemon. As Grey Wardens we are sworn to fight and protect-"

"Yeah but, why?" She rested her face on her bunched up knees, "and why are you so anxious if the all powerful grey wardens are here? There has to be something else." He raised his eyebrows, sensing her eyes reading much deeper than his words.

"I fear King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain do not understand the severity of the situation. There may be issues coming to light that our current army isn't capable of handling." Kahlé swallowed hard, the strongest might she's faced thus far is drunken nobles and guards fresh off the chopping block. "I fear a number of wardens and myself may not survive this blight. Death is expected, I do not fear death for death's sake. I fear what may happen to the living once we are no longer amongst them." She stared intensely forward, into nothing but the darkness of the night. Now she understood what was at stake, why she came to be recruited. She decided then and there she would fight until her dying breath, nothing would take her home. Not a madman with power, and not a tainted God.