Members of the Inquisition work tirelessly to get Azalea warm again and save the Herald of Andraste after her nearly fatal escape from Corypheus.

"Maker, she's turning blue," Cullen said as he pulled Trevalyan towards him, hugging her body towards his trying to get some heat into her. She was unconscious now, but she had been walking, or rather stumbling, towards them when he first spotted her. If he hadn't insisted on coming out here to find her... Well, that didn't bare thinking about.

"I'll go get a bed ready for her," Cassandra said, turning and running back to the camp while Cullen lifted the freezing mage and started a slower walk back. He could see a commotion start up as Cassandra arrived at the camp; people were made aware that they had found their Herald, that she was in a bad way and needed help. It was a mark of how many people she had likely unknowingly affected that nearly everyone was rushing around to get things ready and to try to help her however they could.

"Hold on, Trevalyan, hold on," Cullen murmured as he hurried as fast as he could through the thick snow back to camp. By the time he arrived the others had organized a camp tent for her. Outside Dorian was heating flasks of water with his fire magic and passing them to Cassandra, who carried them inside, no doubt adding them to the bed to prewarm it.

They attracted a lot of stares as Cullen carried Trevelyan through the campsite, and most of them were stares of worry, though a number also held amazement in their expressions. Here was their Herald, the one who had risked all for them to escape, faced down a monster alone, been buried by an avalanche, and was still here for them, even if she was so frozen as to be near death. In truth, it was starting to make a believer out of Cullen as well. There were just too many coincidences and while he was willing to believe that it was coincidence that had given Trevelyan the mark and got her out of the Fade, it was getting harder and harder to believe that coincidence was all it was when she, a Circle-sheltered mage, perhaps the most unprepared person imaginable for the task, succeeded time and again. And here she was again, alive, barely three hundred meters behind them. Now they just had to get her warm and tend to whatever injuries she had from her ill-fated fight with Corypheus and maybe, just maybe, they could at least get through this latest setback.

Entering the tent Cullen was hit by a wave of heat. It was as though there were a bubble around the tent trapping the heat within it, which he supposed could very well have been the case as Solas was there with a magical fire flickering in the centre of the room that gave off heat but no smoke. "Here," Cassandra said, pulling back the blankets and furs that covered a camp bed. Cullen laid her down on it and, covering her, started rubbing her limbs, trying to get some warmth back into them.

Dorian came in then, carrying a teapot in one hand and a cup in another. The teapot glowed slightly as Dorian heated it with magic then poured some steaming tea into the cup and passed it over to Cullen. "Sit her up and try to get this into her," he said. He sniffed then and his nose twitched. Rubbing it, he sniffed again, then let off no less than six sneezes in a row.

"Don't tell me you're getting sick now," Cassandra said, raising an eye brow at him.

Dorian rubbed his nose again, eyes now streaming. "Is there a cat in here?" he asked, looking around, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"A cat?" Cassandra repeated.

Cullen had been ignoring them until now, more focussed on manoeuvring Trevelyan into reclining against him so that he could wrap his cloak around her and keep her warm while trying to get her to drink the tea to warm her from the inside out. But as though hearing Dorian ask about a cat, there was a sudden movement inside Trevelyan's shirt and a furry head popped out of her neck.

"I knew it!" Dorian declared. "Get that thing out of here, would you?"

"It must have been keeping her warm," Solas said from where he sat minding the fire. "Probably what kept her alive this long."

"The cat stays," Cullen said, putting the cup aside briefly to lift the cat out of Trevelyan's shirt, doing his best not to touch her inappropriately, and putting it on her lap.

"Then I go," Dorian said. "Call me if you need me, and when that cat is gone," he said as he left, another three sneezes escaping as he did so.

The cat seemed quite content to sit in amongst the furs on Trevelyan's lap, its claws rhythmically coming in and out as it purred and kneaded away. Cullen ignored it in favour of trying to coax Trevelyan to drink. He managed to get two cups into her, her throat instinctively swallowing what he slowly tipped into her mouth, before a hand rose and clumsily swatted the cup away, spilling what was left of it everywhere.

"She must be coming around slightly," Cassandra said from where she was kneeling at the foot of the bed, rubbing Trevelyan's feet. With a grunt of disgust she added, "She will be lucky if she doesn't lose any toes. Solas, are you able to heal them?"

"Not if the flesh is already dead," he said, but he stood to have a look. Cullen couldn't see what her feet looked like from where he sat, but he saw a shining blue light come from where his hands hovered over her feet. After the light died out, he said, "Her blood should flow more easily now. She has other injuries too, likely from the fight with Corypheus, or from the avalanche itself. Broken ribs and a badly sprained wrist most notably. I can't heal that but I can help with the pain when she wakens. Adan will likely be able to strap them so they heal best as well."

"I'll send him in once she wakes up," Cassandra said. Standing, she covered Trevelyan's feet back up with the blankets and furs. "Why don't you get some rest. I'll watch her for a few hours, then you can take over. I think she should have someone she knows and trusts nearby when she wakes up."

Cullen nodded and gently, carefully, returned Trevelyan to a lying position, pulling the covers up over her, high over her neck and over the cat as well who didn't seem to mind in the least. For a moment he simply stared at her face. Her cheeks were pink now and, while her lips were still a little blue, they had a lot more colour in them than before. Softly he reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face, then sighed and straightened. "Call me as soon as she wakes up," he said before he left the tent, Solas trailing behind him. How he was supposed to sleep he had no idea, but he would try, if only so he could be awake and with Trevelyan when she eventually woke.

Corypheus lifted her in the air, his mouth moving, saying words, but she couldn't understand him. It hurt, her hand felt like it was burning, like it was being torn at from the inside out, like it was five times as big and roughly, brutally stretched that way.

"Trevelyan, it's alright, calm down."

She heard a voice, words, but she couldn't string the words together, couldn't make them make sense. The voice was wrong though, it was coming out of Corypheus's mouth but it wasn't his voice. It was wrong, it was all wrong.

"It's just me. Calm down, you're having a nightmare. It's not real, wake up."

The words came from Corypheus's mouth again, but they were still wrong. Something about a nightmare? It was a nightmare, everything was going wrong, by choosing the mages she had abandoned the templars to be infected with red lyrium, they were killing hundreds, all her fault. And Corypheus was speaking again. He swung her, she held helpless in his grasp. She flew through the air, right towards the trebuchet.

Azalea screamed as her arm flung wide. It was caught, but it wasn't the harsh claws of Coryphus that held her, but warm, calloused hands. Her eyes flew open but what she saw wasn't what she expected. She expected... What? What had happened? "Where am I?" she asked, her voice sounding panicked even to her ears.

"You're with the Inquisition, in camp. It's alright, you're safe now," a voice said. A gentle, familiar voice. It was tinged with worry, but it was comforting too. A face slowly came into focus, a familiar face.

"Cullen," she breathed, relaxing a little.

He smiled, relief plain on his face. "Yes, I'm here," he said. "We found you in the snow, freezing. But you're safe now."

He reached out, using a cloth to gently wipe away the fear sweat that was on her brow. Azalea closed her eyes at his touch, though they opened once more when the cloth was brought away. She reached out and took hold of his wrist, stilling it's movement. "Please, just... just hold me. Only for a little while," she said.

Cullen's eyes widened in surprise at the request, but he put the cloth aside and gently took her in his arms, letting her rest against his chest. She felt so small in his arms, so frail, and Solas had said she was injured as well. He held her lightly, careful not to hurt her further, but she seemed not to notice any pain, her eyes drifting closed and a hand grasping the shirt he wore. She was asleep again, so quickly, but at least this time it seemed to be a natural sleep.

The tent opened then and Bull ducked in, his head held low in the tent, his sword drawn. "We heard a scream," he said.

"It's alright. Was just a nightmare," Cullen said, a little colour rising to his neck at being caught holding the Herald like this.

Bull, never missing anything, gave a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you'll do a good job comforting her," he said.

Cullen scowled a little at that, but said only, "Could you please send Adan in? She's injured and he should be able to help."

Bull nodded and left the tent, and, thank the Maker, he did so without waking Trevelyan up again. She needed rest and sleep, they all did really, but her most of all. And if holding her close meant she could get it and the nightmares would stay away, well that was what he would do, all night if required.