Cole liked horses. Of course, he liked most animals – their thoughts and wants were simple, understandable, easy to help. But horses had the added and interesting trait of being able to read a person nearly as well as he could, which he found fascinating. One glance, one sniff, and a horse knew your whole self, then immediately used that knowledge to its advantage.

For instance, the horse currently eyeing Sinead was well aware of how nervous she was to be near him. And he was not about to be a humble or willing mount for her if she did not want to ride him.

"It's very tall," she said, hesitantly patting his head, which he begrudgingly allowed.

"He," Cole corrected. He felt the ripples of smug indifference coming from the horse, and began to feel worried. He took a number of sugar cubes from his pocket, then took Sinead's hand, pressed it flat, and placed the cubes on her palm. "Let him eat them off your hand, and he'll be your friend."

"Did you take the sugar off the breakfast table?" She grinned. "You weren't even at breakfast."

"No, I took it from the pantry last night."

"Oh, Cole. You must stop stealing from kitchens." She held the sugar out to the horse, who sniffed her hand, then delicately took a few cubes between its teeth. "That tickles a bit."

"I'll stop stealing when people who need food can get it whenever they want," he replied as he rubbed the horse's nose.

Dorian, already on his horse, yawned. "This is a time that really doesn't exist for civilized people," he grumbled. "Unless they're coming at it from the other side, of course."

"All right, saddle bags are all packed." Krem sidled over from his horse and slapped Cole's shoulder. "Time to mount. We want to get out of the city before the sun rises."

"Yes, time to mount." Sinead said with false enthusiasm. Cole felt her anxiety rise. "Are you sure I'll be fine with one arm?"

"Absolutely. You're supposed to use one hand with the reins anyway. Shouldn't be a handicap for you at all, aside from the balance, maybe, and that'll just take some time." Krem lowered himself on one knee and put his hands together. "Come on, I'll help you up."

"All right," she said reluctantly.

"Left foot in the stirrup. Yes, that's it," Krem coached as she grabbed the horn, locked her foot into the stirrup and stepped on Krem's offered hand. She pulled herself up, leveraged by Krem, and quickly swung her leg over, landing in the saddle with a thump. "Okay, now take the reins, but don't pull on them yet."

"Goodness, it's rather high up here," she said with a nervous laugh as she took the reins in her hand. "Very high." The horse began to stamp its feet and weave its head. "Oh, I don't know if I like this," she blurted. Her panic was increasing, though had not yet become worthy of an attack. Cole's worry grew.

"Hey, now, none of that," Krem said, taking the horse by the bridle and giving it a look. The horse quieted, but Cole could feel its resentment for having to carry such a novice. It was not going to be an easy horse to ride. Krem was none the wiser, however. He patted the horse's neck and said, "That's better. Don't worry, my lady, a good horse will follow the train. Just aim him toward the back end of everyone else, and you'll be fine. Load up, Cole, let's go!"

She will not be fine. It was a true and unpleasant realization. This horse was going to bolt or walk off as soon as they were clear of the city. He listened to the minds of the other horses, but none were willing to be the trainee horse for the day. In fact, he had the sense that they were all eyeing him, daring him to suggest that Sinead ride a different horse.

"I see," he said. "None of you are very kind." He knocked Sinead's foot from the stirrups and pulled up behind her. He felt her instant relief, which he shared, and she let him take the reins from her hand. The horse was displeased, but recognized that he had been beat. For now.

"Oh, come on, you can't ride the poor thing like that all day," Krem protested. "He'll wear out before its half over."

"We can switch to the other horse at lunch," Cole said. "She won't mind."

"The two of them together don't weigh close to Bull, and he manages on horses. You never moan about the 'poor thing' then," Dorian quipped.

"Because the boss'd get sulky about his weight," Krem muttered. He tied the extra horse to his own, and mounted. "Fine, okay, let's go."

"Lead on, pack leader," Dorian teased, poking fun at the Inquisitor's designation of Krem as such (Sinead, she said, was too much of a novice at traveling, Cole was too flighty, and Dorian was not to touch the purse, please, no, not even a silver, he had his own money to buy wine with).

Krem rolled his eyes, said, "ho!" and they were off.

They rode out of the Montilyet's stable yard, a sluggish, tired stable hand opening the gate for them, and out into the quiet city. A mist rose from the cobblestones, and the clatter of horseshoes echoed over the buildings. The streetlamps still burned, but they were muffled and muted by the haze.

"It's rather eerie at this time of day," Sinead whispered, looking up at the fog-hidden sky. "Like the whole world is asleep."

"It's not though," Cole whispered back. He pointed at a darkened window. "The man in that room is awake, worried about how he's going to pay his gambling debt tomorrow. He thinks he'll have to sell his mother's broaches." He swung his arm down the street. "Around the corner, a woman is getting ready for the day. She's the housekeeper, and must wake the other servants soon. This cup of tea is the only time she has to herself until she crawls into bed tonight."

Sinead smiled at the walls of the buildings they passed. "So many stories we'll never know."

"I know them. But I forget them. It's hard to hold them all forever."

They traveled through the streets, through the great city gates, and out into an open and lush landscape that smelled of green and sea. Krem lit a lantern and attached it to the pommel of his saddle. The dull roar of the sea was audible to their right, though in the early morning blackness, with neither moon visible, all one could perceive with sight was the glow of Krem's lantern.

The group traveled at a slow pace as the sun began to rise, silent but for the clip-clopping of the horses, all but Cole still drowsy.

Sinead began to lean into Cole in a doze, lulled by the movement of the horse. Aside from her hairpins occasionally bumping against his nose, he rather liked the sensation. She had a particular scent, like salt and sweet, poppies and copper, that he had grown to want over the months since he had met her on the tower and told her he loved her. It was like a tug on his chest, though he was fairly sure that wasn't where the want started. It was the closest thing he felt to the much more urgent need he felt in other couples, or trios, or quads, or groups his mind sometimes picked up on. It was a small want, a little human desire that he held on to as proof that someday, maybe, he'd want more.

Maybe.

Anyway, she did smell nice, which was enough for now.

The day grew brighter and the sun burned off the mist, revealing the winding road that followed the sea cliffs. Off to the left were rolling hills and farms punctuated by small collections of houses that passed for villages. To the right, the sunlight reflected the sea's waves, and the white billows of ship sails moved slowly in the distance.

Sinead was fully awake now, taking in the sights. He could feel her happiness move through her like warm liquid. "It's so much more greenery than I've seen in such a long time. The mountains are beautiful in their way, but I do miss green." She perked up in the saddle. "Rivain is supposed to be simply covered in woods. You think we'll have to pass through some on our way north?"

"We will," Krem said. "I've been through Rivain a few times. It's one big, damned forest."

"Good," she said giddily.

"I suppose so. Except for the bandits. Easier to hide in the trees."

"They can't really hide with Cole around," Dorian said, looking up from the book he had started reading when the light was bright enough. "He'll hear one of them cursing the twigs poking into his back long before we're under them."

"I can't keep my mind open for everything all the time," Cole retorted. "It's tiring."

"But you can keep your mind open enough to tell me I need to write to my mother more," Dorian drawled. "Which, thank you for that, right before this fun romp."

"I can't help it if you want someone to tell you that," Cole said with a shrug. "You put it in my head."

"Touché."

The day passed lazily by, with everyone in high spirits. Cole supposed it was because they were no longer trapped on the ship, and though they were moving much slower than before toward their new goal, actually being able to tell that the scenery was passing by made it feel like they were doing something more than waiting. They stopped for a quick lunch of bread, fruit and cheese, and continued on. From time to time they passed travelers – merchants with heavy carts, cheerful groups walking with packs from one village to another, mule herders on their way to or from some market, and two chantry sisters who gave them pinched glares as they passed.

"Probably for us," Dorian said to Krem. "Vints in Antiva. Oh, how the sisters' feathers are ruffled."

As the day wore on, Sinead and Dorian had a casual discussion about magic theory that slowly grew into a heated argument.

"You must be joking," he said with a scoff. "To pull back right before the spell is fully realized is to deny it that extra oomph! Instead of a burst of flame, you have a sad flicker. It's all about follow through. Is that really what the Southern Circle teaches?"

"That wasn't the Circle, that was Eluard," Sinead retorted. "And you don't pull back, you hold back some of your power and add it at the last moment when you're sure that the spell will go right. It's the difference between a flame and an inferno. It's basic safety!"

"Perhaps you need that when you're playing with blood, which is understandable, I suppose, perhaps, if you're the nervous sort. But any mage worth his salt would push rather than pull, and with confidence! It's hesitation that causes the most accidents, not forthrightness."

"Tell that to the idiot in my third year at the Circle who froze himself solid with one strong push."

"One anecdote does not make a rule."

Their irritation rolled over Cole unpleasantly, but he had learned that these kinds of fights were seen as enjoyable to people. And he could feel it, underneath their exasperation – this was a mock battle, a push back and forth for them to stretch their knowledge and maybe learn something new, though neither would admit it. They fought because they liked each other's company. It was strange, but he was used to the strangeness now.

The day rolled to evening, and Krem led them off the road a bit to make camp. Cole helped Sinead down, letting her hold on to him as she hobbled around.

"The Inquisitor was right," she groaned. "My whole backside is a tenderized piece of meat."

"It's because you aren't riding with the horse's movement," Cole said. "You bounce down when he bounces up."

Krem looked over from where he was untacking the horses. "Can't you just heal yourself?"

"I could, but then my muscles will never develop, and I'll feel this way every day, always." She whimpered and slowly lowered herself to the ground. "All I can do is numb it a bit."

"Right, well, I suppose I can give you a break from making camp tonight," Krem said with a grin. "Cole, can you set up the bedrolls? Dorian, get the fire ready." He pulled a bow from its place on his saddle and strung it. "I'll see if I can't get us something fresh for dinner."

Soon the camp was set and neat, mostly due to Cole's work, though he did not mind. Dorian knew how to start a fire, but was not as keen about keeping it fed. And Sinead could barely move her legs, which she was very embarrassed about. He thought about asking her if she wanted him to massage her legs, but he felt oddly bashful about asking. He was sure it was something she'd blush about – she did turn a very bright shade of red when he walked in on her bath the day before, which he did not realize was due to her quickly hidden nudity until he was halfway down the hall with her message to the Inquisitor. He considered reassuring her that he'd seen plenty of naked people before, many who did not even know he was there, but checked himself. Sometimes people did not like knowing things like that.

So maybe asking her if she wanted her legs rubbed would not turn out well. Then again, it would help, and it would be better than feeling the pangs of pain running up and down her body. But before he had a chance to ask, Krem returned with two rabbits and Sinead said, "at least let me dress those so I don't feel like a lump."

Krem was reluctant to give Sinead the rabbits, but his skepticism was quelled as, even one-handed, she deftly skinned, dressed and quartered the rabbits.

"You're better at that than I would have thought for a Circle mage," he said.

"You forget that I spent the first half of my life in a forest," she said with a raised brow. "I would be an embarrassment to my mother if I didn't know how to dress a blessed rabbit."

As Krem staked the rabbit quarters over the fire, Dorian unhooked a lute from his pack and tuned it.

"I still can't believe you packed that thing," Krem said.

"Music, ser, is the expression of the soul," Dorian replied as he twiddled with the strings, plucking a light, nonsense tune. "To leave it behind is to deny oneself their very life force."

"Uh huh. So what's your soul pining for tonight? A ballad? A love song, I bet. You seem like the love song type," Krem joked.

Dorian gave him a mock glare, fiddled with the strings a bit more then started strumming a definite tune. Krem let out a loud laugh.

"The Poetical Song! Really?"

"What's the Poetical Song?" Sinead asked as she rubbed her legs ineffectually.

"It's more the melody that's important," Krem explained. "So long as you know the rules of the poem, you can put any words in there." He gave Dorian a wry look. "However, there's one particular set of lyrics that any red-blooded Tevinter knows by heart."

"And what do you think I am, an Ander?" Dorian snorted. "I think not."

"Prove it, pretty boy."

Dorian grinned and started to sing in a clear Baritone.

"Listen my friends to the tale of my love

A man who has faced the greatest of foes

His eyes are bright as the stars up above

And hair as black as the feathers of crows."

"That rhyme is a little forced," Sinead whispered. Cole hushed her, intent on the tune.

"When riding against the great horned men

He sits tall as the Hundred Pillars' rows.

Oh never has his like been seen before

From Volca Sea to Amaranthine's shores.

I followed my love 'cross the Silent Plains

Down the highway to Valarian Fields

'Cross Nocen Sea to where the horned man reigns,

And fog and shadows the warriors wield

He fought with fury, was the horned man's bane

With a final blow the battle was sealed.

Oh never has his like been seen before

From Volca Sea to Amaranthine's shores."

Dorian lifted his brows and began to play more raucously.

"A man such as this, I willingly slave

O'r his body, like as from marble hewn

'Til his shuddering makes the bedposts wave

And pillows and sheets cross the room are strewn."

Krem sang along for the last verse, adding a few lewd hand movements.

"Honor he deserved and honor I gave

For every head taken I gave him two…

Never has my touch been bested before

From Volca Sea to Amaranthine's shores."

Dorian finished with a flourish as Krem laughed.

"That was lovely," Sinead said brightly. She was a bit pink.

"It was a nice song," Cole said, pleased at everyone's happiness. "Is the singer also a soldier?"

"Uh, well, it's a Tevinter song, so I think they're both mages," Krem said, amused.

"Oh. But the singer is also fighting the Qunari?"

"I…no, I think the singer's just admiring the lover's, uh. Prowess?"

"Then where did he get the heads?"

Suddenly a cascade of images rolled through his mind from the three of them. And then he realized that he was not the only one who did not see the full truth of the song's meaning – Sinead only had the last two, most obvious verses, and her images were much more academic than Krem's or Dorian's.

"Ooooh," he said with a nod. "The lover has sex with the Qunari."

"Well, that's what prostitutes do, yes," Dorian said with a chuckle.

"What?" Sinead sputtered. Her pink grew bright red as Krem and Dorian lost themselves in a much longer fit of laughter. "I didn't know it was that sort of –" She cleared her throat. "Of course, a, a classic form of pub song."

"Yes! Classic!" Krem was wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh, Maker."

Cole decided to not ask Sinead if she wanted a massage.

The three eaters ate, and everyone talked as the sky darkened and Luna rose above the horizon. Finally, Dorian, Krem and Sinead settled into their bed rolls, leaving Cole on watch. He laid back and watched the stars, listening to their breathing slow as they fell asleep. He let out a sigh of contentment. Though there was a threat in the distance, either one they were running from or one they were heading towards, now, in this moment, everything was well. It had been a good day.

In the weeks to come, he often thought back to that day and clung to it like a raft in a stormy sea where the deep was waiting to swallow him whole.

Two days later, the weather turned. Dark clouds rolled in from the sea and broke as they reached the shore. Cascades of rain fell upon the travelers, soaking through their cloaks and slicking the hair of the horses to a deep shine. The road became a muddy stream.

Perhaps the lighter mood would have continued if the rain only lasted a day. Unfortunately, the weather remained fitful for the rest of the week, sometimes pouring, sometimes sprinkling, sometimes giving them a moment of relief under a gloomy shelf of clouds, but never allowing the sun to break through and warm them.

They came upon a number of inns on their journey, particularly when they passed through Treviso, a pleasant costal city, where they found shelter and dry beds for the night. But a few of their nights passed under tarp tents on muddy grass, and no matter how hard they tried they could not get dry and sleep was fitful for the three who slept.

Everyone's mood was foul, including Cole's due to the foulness of the others' moods that he carried with him. He shut out most of it, but it still wrapped around him like his wet cloak. And nothing he said helped the others lift out of their hollow. They appreciated that he tried, especially Sinead, who tried right back, asking him about the other bedraggled travelers they passed, and humoring him by listening to his short replies. But the mood remained glum.

Also, he was decidedly uncomfortable in wet clothes. It was another one of those things that would not have bothered him before, but here he was, his legs chafing against the saddle, his skin pruned and flaking, his leather togs sticking to his skin. It was annoying. And it annoyed him that he could be annoyed.

Finally, early Tuesday morning, as Cole huddled beneath his open tent, staring out at the mists, the sky cleared, the sun shined, and Krem woke the others with a "Maker's blue balls fucking finally!"

Everyone was cheered by the sun. Sinead, optimistic, went so far as to change into her only set of clothes that remained untouched by the rain as they were buried deep in her pack. "It's for good luck," she explained.

"I don't think that's how it works," Cole said, doubtful.

She laughed at that and replied, "Then it's because I want to wear a dry shirt, which is like good luck to me."

The mood continued to brighten as the day grew warm and their damp things steamed in the sunlight. Even as the day became muggy and difficult to breathe in, it was still better than wet. Anything was better than wet.

The landscape had changed considerably since they left Antiva. Trees became more frequent, until they were regularly passing copses, and the hills became more sloping.

"Pretty sure we're coming close to Rivain's border," Krem said brightly. "The last sign we passed said its only six miles away. If we push the horses a bit, we can be on the road to Ayesleigh by nightfall."

"I admit, I'm excited to see Rivain," Sinead said, loosing a bubbling, frothing bit of happy nerves onto Cole's perception. "I've read so many wonderful things about the Seers. Can you imagine, a place where mages are seen as leaders by their people?"

Dorian and Krem shared a look.

"Well – what I mean is – well, never mind. I'm excited to visit such a place."

"I'm sure it helps that Rivain's Seers aren't seen as demons made flesh, like mages some countries," Dorian said. "No offense, Cole."

"Why would I be offended by the truth?"

"You'd be surprised how many people are," Dorian replied wryly.

Sinead continued speaking about the Seers, their abilities to talk to the spirits, their place as advisors, but the discussion faded into the background for Cole. Something was picking at his head. Curious, he opened his mind.

He was flooded by feelings – the worst kinds of feelings. Fear, hate, a sneering pride. And pain. A terrible pain.

He reined in the horse, startling Sinead and killing the discussion abruptly. "There are people up ahead," he said quietly. "Hidden a few yards in the trees. I think they're thieves."

"Damn it," Krem muttered, turning his horse. "You think they're watching the road?"

"No. They're smugly satisfied, sorting the spoils of their last looting." He felt frantic as the pain pushed at him. "And preening over their pray who's suffers, slowly – we have to help her," he finished, kneeing his horse into a walk.

"Wait a minute." Krem grabbed Cole's horse's bridle as he passed. "How many are there?"

"Six. There were eight, but she cut down two. She's proud of that, no matter what happens next."

"Six? Well, that's no problem." Krem grinned. "You think we can take six, guys?"

Cole felt Sinead stiffen. Her head filled with visions of blood, blood pouring out of a Qunari's mouth, blood on her hands. He understood. He did. But it was frustrating – how could he make that part of her, that panicked, darkened part of her that shut out every other voice, see?

"Please," he whispered to her. "This is not the same. They are not him."

She said nothing, but she gave him a barely perceptible nod.

Krem and Dorian did not notice this exchange.

"Two mages, a warrior and a knifey fellow? I think we'll be just fine," Dorian said. "It's been a while since I smoked out bandits." He unleashed his staff from his back. "Let's do a little good."

They dismounted, pulling the horses into the woods so they weren't visible from the road and tying them up, then moved through the trees toward where Cole led them. They heard the thieves before they saw them, the thieves' voices and laughter rattling through the copse. Cole slowed his walk to a creep and the others followed suit as the thieves became visible through the greenery. They were camped in a small clearing, passing around a bottle and ripping into a number of bags and pulling out the goods.

"Andraste's silky ass, the oxmen don't pack light," one of them crowed, pulling a number of fine linens from a pack. "Where'd you pick this up, giantess? Need a bit of frill for those fine tits of yours?"

A Qunari woman was propped against a twisted oak at the edge of the clearing. She was beaten and bruised, and one of her legs twisted at an angle that Cole knew was wrong. She held her side, and even breathing was painful for her. Her pain made him ache.

But it was not the Qunari's pain that made him angry. It was the thieves' thoughts. Two were filled with fear, terrible fear, fear of beatings and hunger and worse in the night. Two were filled with loathing. It sank into his mind, their awful disgust, even as they sorted through the loot. They were here for the money, but one certainly was ready to bolt as soon as he had enough coin to make it worth the run.

The last two, one of them being the man who spoke so crassly to the injured woman, had minds like sucking pits. It was like touching slime-covered rocks when he felt them. He shuddered. He drew his knives.

"Wait," Sinead hissed desperately. "It's wrong to surprise them like this. We need to give them a chance."

The other three gave her incredulous looks.

"A chance at what? At killing us all?" Dorian hissed in return. "They already have a victim that they're openly mocking. I think we have reason enough for a surprise attack."

"One man openly mocked her, out of six," she replied. Her desperation grew, smacking against Cole and blending with the feelings of the thieves. She pulled her pins from her hair, shoved them into her belt and shook out her braid. "Surely not all of them deserve to die."

In horror, and too late, Cole realized what she planned to do. "Wait!" he whispered, grabbing at her arm, but she was too swift. She stumbled into the clearing.

"What in the Void is she doing?" Dorian squeaked, moving to go after her.

"Not yet," Krem said through clenched teeth, blocking Dorian's path. "The fight'll be a bloody mess if we go after her now."

The thieves were certainly surprised by Sinead's sudden appearance in the clearing. They looked up from the loot, stunned. She widened her eyes, looking around the clearing as if she was startled to find herself here.

"Hello, I – I seem to be lost," she said in a small, frightened voice. "My nug ran off and I went after him and now I can't find him or the road."

"Since when can she act like that?" Dorian whispered.

Cole barely heard this comment. His breath was shallow. The loathing ones and the fearful ones did not like this new development – but not because they saw Sinead as a threat or a burden or even a target. All of their minds went toward the sucking pits, wondering what they would do with this young woman.

The black-minded ones' thoughts turned to Sinead, each of them vile in different ways. One was nothing but blood and hurt and pain and want and need and crushing, he liked the crushing feel as the life faded from their eyes. The other did not want pain, he liked the power, the want, the strange girl's fear, wanted the feel of her hair in his fingers.

One of them approached Sinead, the power-hungry one, with an easy smile. "It's all right, ducky. We can lead you back to the road, can't we?" He reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair.

Cole tightened the grip on his dagger. The thoughts from the power-hungry man were brigher, faster, grasping, thinking of her face, that hair, wondering at the feel of his hands running over her.

Cole shook his head. "Shut up," he whispered. "Shut up."

"Cole?" Krem hissed worriedly.

"Wh-what's wrong with the Qunari woman?" Sinead asked nervously, looking past the black-minded ones at the others. All but one looked away. That one, a fearful one, had wide eyes. He shook his head at Sinead. Run, he mouthed at her. Run.

"Just one of our crew," the bloody one said. "Got herself hurt. We're mercs, see."

The Qunari woman shifted and tried to speak, but all that came out was a wheeze. The bloody one loved that sound, the wheezing, the choking, the grasping at life hopelessly.

"Don't worry about her, ducky," the power-hungry one said, leaning over Sinead. "Let's go find the road."

Make her trust, make her gentle, and quiet, and calm, and then the hands and the struggle and the want and the taking and the –

"Shut UP," Cole snarled. His knife left his hand before he finished his words, the blade driving into the eye of the sucking pit, startling Sinead. She froze. Her thoughts became a jumble of old memories of death.

As the power-hungry one fell back and his mind became blessedly blank, Cole's second knife landed in the throat of the bloody one. He died with a surprised gurgle.

"Shit, we're under attack!" One of the loathing ones drew his blade and jumped back into the trees. The others followed suit, and disappearing into the copse.

"Thanks for cutting down those bastards, but damn it did you have to throw both of your knives?" Krem said as he drew his sword. "Sinead, get out of there! Did any of you see an archer?"

"There was one," Dorian replied. There was a flash of blue as he placed a barrier on all of them. Then a thwock as an arrow bounced off Sinead's barrier. "Ah, there he is."

The arrow broke Sinead's catatonia. She gasped and leapt back into the trees. Krem grabbed her by the arm.

"What in the Maker loving void were you thinking?" he cried.

There was a snap of electricity and Krem yelped and pulled his hand back. "That not every thief deserves to die," she shot back.

"Nice thought, but now we've got hidden baddies and the one guy who's good at stealth can't get his damned weapons unless he wants an arrow in his chest."

"I don't need them." Cole deftly pulled Sinead's knife from its sheath. The sylvan wood sang at him. "It wants this anyway." He ran off into the woods, following the thoughts of the thieves.

"Wait!" Sinead ran after him.

"This is not usually how these things go for me," Krem said as he and Dorian followed after them both.

Dorian batted away the foliage with his staff. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think this is the last time I fight with a bloody pacifist. They're entirely too mad."

"Please wait, Cole," Sinead pleaded, huffing as she ran.

He ignored her. One of the fearful thieves had run, and was going to run as fast and as far as possible away from everything he saw with the black-minded ones. That was good. He was safe. The other fearful one was egged on by one of the loathing ones – a brother? Too afraid to leave. Not so good. If he fought, he would have to die. The loathing ones were ready to fight for their loot. One had already caught their number – three men, only one with any strength, and a scared woman? Easy pickings. More loot maybe.

Not as bad as the sucking pits, but still bad. Still a threat. The thieves had made their choice, and he was ready to end them.

His barrier was almost out – he could feel it fizzing against his skin. And the archer knew it. He heard the archer think this before the arrow was loosed. Cole dropped. The arrow sank into the tree above him. Another arrow was flying at him, but before it made contact it burst into flame and became a shower of ash.

"Fucking mage," the thief spat from his cover up in a tree, sending an arrow at Sinead. She quickly covered herself and Cole with a barrier, deflecting the arrow.

The other loathing one jumped out of the trees, swinging his sword down at Cole. Cole rolled out of the way and hopped up, knife ready. He dodged another swing as an arrow bounced off his barrier. Then he feinted to the left and as the swordsman turned, dodged to the right, away from his attacker and toward the archer.

Krem was waiting for the swordsman, stunning the thief with a blow from his shield. The swordsman recovered, and they clashed, metal ringing against metal.

Cole jumped into the tree where the archer was perched, ascending through the branches with agile speed. The archer loosed arrow after arrow at him, each bouncing off the barrier, weakening it. It fizzled out, and the archer loosed one final arrow before a massive electric shock knocked him from the tree. He tumbled to the ground.

"You're welcome!" Dorian called.

The arrow smacked into Cole's left shoulder. He cried out and his grip slipped off the limbs he was holding. Another barrier covered him as he crashed through the branches.

"Oh, spoke too soon," Dorian muttered.

Sinead was there when he landed. The barrier kept him safe from the fall, but it jarred the arrow. He groaned. "Stupid stupid stupid," she was chanting. She broke off the end of the arrow and jerked what was left out of his back, making him gasp in pain. Then she healed him, mending the wound until it was nothing but a dull ache. "This is all so stupid." She yanked her knife from his hand and sliced into her dead arm. Her eyes glowed red.

Ice shot up around the man Krem was fighting, until he was encased in a binding, frigid cage so tightly that his limbs could not move. Krem moved back, surprised. Meanwhile, Sinead stalked over to the grievously injured archer lying dazed on the ground. She healed him, then encased him in ice as well.

"Well, that's a neat trick," Dorian said brightly.

"Will you please come out?" she called into the woods. "Or do I have to drag you out?"

The final, fearful thief shakily rose from the bushes where he was hiding. It was the one who had mouthed Run to her.

"Please, mum, I don't want to die," he said, trembling. "Please, I don't want to die."

"No one is going to kill you," Sinead said. "Or at least none of us are."

The thief sagged. "And you'll not kill my brother?" He pointed at the swordsman.

"No," she said, her voice tired. She turned to the swordman. "Are you really willing to try to kill us over whatever is in that poor woman's pack?"

"Well, not now I'm not," the swordman retorted, wiggling his fingers. "I can tell when I've been beat. Is Ollie dead?"

"The archer? No."

"He should be." Cole stared at the archer. "They both should be. They'll hurt people again. They'll keep doing it until someone stops them."

"Damn it, I don't hurt people," the swordsman snapped. "I joined this little gang cause it was an easy way to make some coin. Usually I scare some folks, take a few baubles, let 'em wander off with their purses a little lighter. I didn't know Shad and Eiser were mental."

"I assume those are the dead fellows in the clearing," Dorian said. "Just how bad were they?"

"Very," Cole said through clenched teeth.

"That bad, eh?"

"They were fucked in the head," the archer piped up. "I swear, I ain't like that. I'm no saint, but I ain't like that."

"No, but you let them hurt and harm and have what they wanted from your marks," Cole said. He pointed at the fearful thief. "He was too afraid to stop it, but you could have. And you never did. The coin was too good."

"I said I ain't no saint," the archer spat. "If you're gonna gut us like fish, stop talking and get it over with!"

Krem sheathed his sword. "Well, I'm not killing anyone. Not like this, anyway."

Sinead lowered herself next to Cole. Her eyes were pleading. Everything in her was pleading, begging for him to stop the killing for today. "I know they're not good people, but do they have to die? Can we not give them a chance to find another path?"

"They want no other paths," he said. "They will take from others."

"Will they kill?"

"I…don't know. I can't tell read the future, Sinead." His anger was fading. He looked at the men trapped in ice, the trembling thief in the bushes. Suddenly his zeal to stop these bandits, permanently, was heavily cooled. He felt a little sick to his stomach. "I…I don't want to hurt anyone we don't have to hurt."

Relief rolled off Sinead, soothing the last of his anger. She looked at the thieves. "The ice will melt. Eventually." She stood and helped Cole up. "I need to get back to the Qunari. Her injuries are terrible, and I fear for her life."

"What, so you're just gonna leave us?" the archer said angrily.

"Shut up, Ollie!" the swordsman snapped.

The foursome left the thieves to their fate and headed back to the clearing.

"That was, hands down, one of the strangest skirmishes I've ever been a part of," Dorian said. "And I've fought some very strange things over the last year or so. Please tell me you won't do that every time we run into trouble."

"I don't know." Sinead's relief had twisted into a disgust in herself. The blackness was edging in on her thoughts. "Excuse me for a moment." She ran behind a tree and retched up her breakfast.

Krem rubbed his eyes. "Maker's breath. This journey is going to be more difficult than I thought."

Cole nodded. "Yes."

He approached Sinead as came back from behind the tree, wiping off her mouth. The sleeve of her dead hand was open and bloody, the wound not yet healed for she felt no pain from it.

"You're hurt."

"What? Oh." She looked down at her arm and healed the cut with a flash of green. She stared at the sleeve. "This was my only clean shirt," she said, her voice cracking.

He reached for her, wanting to help, to comfort, but she shuddered and backed away. That hurt him – it hurt him. It was like she had stuck him with her knife.

"The woman," she said, tottering off toward the clearing. "I have to help the woman."

He watched her walk away, feeling helpless.

Dorian's song, "A Tevinter Ottava Rima," can be found on Soundcloud, if you're interested :)