"I never knew stones could do that." Lyria's voice broke through Alistair's dark thoughts. He'd been flicking pebbles at the water and making them skip across the surface.

He chuckled dryly. "I thought dwarves knew everything about rocks. I bet they even know how to cook them into a twelve course banquet."

She scooped up some of the pebbles at her feet and tried to imitate the stone skipping. All she succeeded in doing was scattering some of the schools of tiny silver fish as her stone splashed in their midst. "You only get twelve if ale counts as a course. And in Orzammar, it does."

Alistair pressed his hand against his cheek. "What are we going to do?" He sounded empty.

Lyria shrugged, scowling as another attempt ended up bouncing against a log. "I am so bad at this I can't even hit the water." She glanced at the other warden. "We try to stop the blight, I suppose. Either that or we start trying to make peace with the ancestors and wave down the closest darkspawn horde to come and get us."

"So we can attempt the impossible or give up," he groaned. He sat down on a petrified log, burying his face in his hands. "I wish Duncan were here."

Before the dwarf could reply, the door to the hut flew open and Morrigan emerged with her mother strutting proudly behind her. Morrigan's skin was flushed red and her teeth were clenched angrily. Flemeth, on the other hand, looked rather triumphant. She grinned at the two wardens as soon as she could catch their eyes.

"Oh good. I was worried that the two of you might be gone already, overzealous and eager to save the world and all that." Flemeth's yellow teeth flashed at them. "We have a debt to settle before you scamper away."

The constant fear that Daveth and Ser Jory seemed to have of being turned into toads by people such as this seemed slightly more real all of the sudden. "We don't have anything to pay..." Lyria began to stammer.

"I object to this, mother!" Morrigan blurted out. "Not only do you drive me out, but you intend to put me with a fool and a rock dweller. One would think you wished to see me humiliated on top of being forced to leave my home."

The two wardens exchanged glances. Maybe being a toad wasn't so bad, considering the impending alternative.

As if she could read their thoughts, Flemeth cackled loudly. The noise sounded disturbingly close to the cries of the black carrion birds Lyria had seen feasting on the dead soldiers in the wilds. "As I said before, wardens, you need every bit of help you can get. My daughter knows magic and enough of my secrets to be of use to you."

Alistair stared incredulously and waved his hands. "Wait wait wait. You're having us repay you by... giving us your daughter?"

"I am not a trinket to be handed back and forth, fool." Morrigan hissed.

"That means I'm the rock dweller," Lyria murmured. "It isn't that we don't appreciate the help and all you've done for us. But if she would really prefer to stay here..."

Flemeth folded her arms and rolled her shoulders lazily. "Then she may stay, then you all may stay and the blight will come kill us all together. Perhaps we can play card games while we wait, yes?"

Morrigan pursed her lips and her expression hardened. "Mother is no doubt being practical. And she is correct, you have need of me and I shall go with you. Even if we fail t'is better than remaining here where mother will no doubt peck at us until we throw ourselves at the blight just to escape."

Lyria grasped Alistair's arm and gently guided him to his feet. He groaned and mumbled something under his breath but made no protest. "In that case, thank you again Flemeth. We'll do all we can to bring your daughter back safe and sound."

"My daughter is quite good at sound. But she has never been a terribly safe one." The old witch made a shooing motion with her hands. "Now go. I've much to prepare for myself and entertaining you has taken up enough of my time."

Morrigan adjusted a pack on her shoulder. "Farewell, mother. Do remember not to use the same pot for stew as you do for laundry." She avoided the two wardens' eyes as she began walking away from the hut. "Let us be off then. We are doing no good here."

Alistair gave the dwarf a look that reminded her of the expression a nug has when it finally realizes that it's about to go into the cookpot. Lyria simply patted his arm and then dashed to catch up with Morrigan before she got too far ahead.