A/N: Well, hello there. It's been a long time since last we met. I apologize for the disgustingly long delay. Unfortunately I really stretched myself to the limit last semester, and I had absolutely no free time whatsoever. Now that the semester is over, I finally have the chance to write again. I hope some of you are still with me, though I'll admit that even I had to go back and reread all of the previous chapters before I could begin writing this one.

The first part of their journey towards the Brecilian Forest was rather dull. They traveled along the Imperial Highway from sunup to sundown each day, and Alistair was sure he couldn't possibly be the only one growing bored and annoyed with the dullness of the scenery. Then again, it was also quite possible that his irritation was due to something else entirely. Or someone else. It was true that the Grey Wardens and the nobles had parted ways in Lothering, and they had been on their own for some time, but Alistair was still stewing over the fact that Eamon had all but ignored him while their groups were still traveling together. Yes, there had been a couple times when the arl had sought him out, but they barely got past awkward pleasantries before the elder man was being called away for one reason or another. Alistair hadn't seen Eamon in years, and he was the closest thing he'd ever really had to a father, so he would have thought Eamon might have tried a little harder to spend some time with him. Sure, they hadn't parted on the best of terms, but still...

Alistair grumbled to himself, trying to push thoughts of the arl from his mind. He had managed well enough without him for this long, hadn't he? With a sigh, Alistair rose from where he'd been seated near the fire and went to go wash out the bowl he'd used for his dinner. However, as he turned on his heel, he collided with someone and managed to spill the last remaining bits of his stew onto his tunic.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Leliana said, placing a hand on his arm to steady him. "How clumsy of me." She wiped at the front of his tunic, causing a blush to rise in his cheeks.

The woman had a way of unsettling him. She always seemed a little too friendly, a little more hands-on than he felt was absolutely necessary. Not that Alistair always minded, of course. Leliana was very pretty, after all. And everyone seemed to like her, including Sayre. Maybe his discomfort was because he was always conscious that Leliana was a woman, in a way that he'd never been with Sayre. With the elven woman, he always just saw her as another Grey Warden, but that was certainly not the case with Leliana. She had a way of reminding him that he was uncultured and unused to being around women. Especially beautiful women. She just smiled at him as he mumbled his own apology before scurrying off to attend to his dirty utensils. But as he hurried away, Alistair couldn't help but notice the smirk on the face of the third woman in their traveling party.

They had only been out of Lothering for a few days when the swamp witch had just shown up in their camp. Like magic, he thought with a scowl. Morrigan's sudden appearance had caused a bit of a commotion, yet no one seemed as annoyed with her presence as he was. She spent most of her time with Sayre and Leliana, though Eddro had taken an immediate liking to her. Alistair couldn't understand the draw.

He strode away from the circle of tents, which sat just to the side of the road, to go to the small stream that had been running alongside it for the past few days. A soft woof from Lady greeted him as he got close, and Sayre turned to look at him, water dripping from her face. She wiped it off with a towel before giving him a nod. Alistair idly scratched at Lady's head before kneeling to wash his bowl and spoon. When he finished, he rose to see Sayre still standing there, looking at him curiously.

"What is it?" Alistair asked.

"Nothing," Sayre said quickly, shaking her head. "It's just... Is everything all right with you? You've seemed... strange lately."

The question startled him. Was Sayre actually attempting to show concern for someone? "I'm fine," he said, giving his head a little shake. Alistair turned to go, but then he remembered the stew that was settling into his tunic, and he turned back to the stream. Setting his things aside, he reached down to cup some of the water to splash it on his chest, but all he seemed to manage to do was to rub the stew in even deeper.

"Here," Sayre said, and he looked up to see her holding out a bar of soap.

"Thanks," he muttered, reaching to take it from her hand. Their fingers brushed against each other, but she didn't jerk back from him. He almost commented on it, but she had already turned away, Lady padding softly behind her as the two of them made their way back to the campsite.

Alistair did the best he could with his tunic before finally just giving up. Really, what was one more stain on the already dingy garment? As he rung the cold water from the tunic, he turned his head to peer off in the direction of the camp. Sayre thought he was acting strange lately? She was the one who was acting strangely. Or at least differently from how she'd previously been. Though really, the changes he'd seen in her were welcome ones. It seemed that having the other women around actually helped her to open up, to be more friendly and outgoing. She was still a little quite and standoffish with the other men, but it was getting better. He'd even heard her laugh aloud at a story Leliana had been telling a few nights past. Of course, everyone enjoyed Leliana's stories, including Duncan. Everyone except for Morrigan, that was.

He learned quickly enough to stay away from the apostate mage. She was just as mean and unpleasant as he remembered her being from the first time they'd met. Alistair just couldn't understand why Duncan would allow her to travel with them. True, they didn't have a mage in their party, but he wondered how helpful she might actually be in a fight. Would Morrigan actually move to help anyone other than herself? Alistair doubted it. Still, it had been Duncan's choice to allow her to remain, so there was little Alistair could do about it. Other than complain to anyone who would listen, of course.

When he got back to the camp, the men who had watch that night, Juyles, Jon, and Wilton, had already retired to their tents. Alistair didn't see Duncan anywhere either. The rest of the group was divided into two. Sayre, Leliana, and Morrigan sat off by themselves. Alistair glanced at the soap Sayre had given him, then went to toss it into his tent. He'd give it back to her later, when the witch wasn't around. Instead, he went to sit by the other men. Leonas sat carving into a piece of wood, as he did every night. Ben, Eddro, and Nevar were talking quietly, and Alistair overheard the end of their conversation as he sat down.

"...guess that means I'd have to kill Sayre," Ben was saying.

"What?" Alistair sputtered, looking at each of the men in turn. "What are you talking about?"

Eddro laughed. "It's just a little game," he said, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the three women sitting on the other side of the fire. "Of the three of 'em, you have to decide which one of 'em you'd kill, which one you'd marry, and which one you'd just..."

"Fuck," Ben finished for him.

Eddro waved his hand. "Have relations with, Ben. I'm sure our innocent friend here does not appreciate such language, do ya?" He asked, clapping Alistair on the back.

"Well, obviously Morrigan is the one you'd kill," Alistair replied absently, wrinkling his nose. The other men hooted at his response.

"Oh, no," Nevar said with a chuckle. "She's definitely the one you'd want to take back to your tent for a romp."

"All right, so we know one of your answers," Eddro said, still grinning at him like an idiot. "So what about the other two? Which one would you marry, and which one would you just... use for an evening?"

Alistair shrugged his shoulder to push Eddro's hand away. "I... I'm not playing this game."

"Oh, but you already started," Eddro said. "Come on. Which one is which?"

"Well, obviously he'd have to marry Sayre," Ben said with a grin. "Since she likely wouldn't be any fun in the sack, elf or not. Which then puts him spending the evening with the lovely Leliana."

"What? No, I..." Alistair shook his head, feeling his face heat up. "I never said..."

The others laughed at his embarrassment, and Alistair almost got up to leave when Eddro turned his attention to the other man sitting there. "What about you, Leonas?" He asked. "We know you can hear us."

Alistair felt relieved as the conversation turned from him, and he turned to look at the older man.

"How do you think any one of those women would react to hearing about the conversation you're having right now?" Leonas asked, not looking up from his carving. "I don't think any of them would appreciate it very much." He looked up, and Alistair saw the corner of Leonas' mouth quirk up into a smile. "That being said, I'd sleep with Leliana, kill Morrigan, and marry Sayre."

Alistair gaped at him, but the others just laughed. "And why those choices?" Nevar asked.

Leonas shrugged. "Never cared much for mages. And as there is really only one honorable choice there, I would reserve that for our fellow Grey Warden."

Alistair just shook his head and stood up, excusing himself from the group. He made some excuse about being tired, but he doubted any of them even heard him. That was just as well, as he hated drawing attention to himself when they got on such topics. He could still hear their laughter as he ducked into his tent.

The next day they finally left the Imperial Highway and began traveling into the forest. Morrigan, who had made no secret of her unnatural abilities, shifted into a wolf and bounded away from the group, allegedly to scout around. Duncan led at the front of the party, and Leliana seemed to stay close to him. While Alistair would have liked to be up there as well, he allowed himself to lag behind to the rear of the group, where Sayre was.

"I have your soap," he said once he fell back to her side.

"I know," Sayre said, her eyes on the woods that were quickly closing around them. "My memory's not so bad as not to remember giving it to you last night."

Alistair sighed softly, and the walked in silence for a time. "So what did you mean when you said I've seemed strange?" He finally blurted out.

"I meant no offense," Sayre said, meeting his eye for a moment. "You've just been quiet lately. Sullen almost. Since we left Lothering."

Since Eamon had left, although Sayre couldn't know that was the cause for his mood. "Well, Lothering was such a delightful place." Alistair let out a dramatic sigh. "I do miss it so."

"Of course, that must be it," Sayre replied with a shake of her head. She didn't press him further, though, and for that he was grateful.

The Highway may have been boring, but at least traveling it wasn't as tedious as moving through the forest. Every day, it seemed like they moved more and more slowly as the trees grew closer and closer together, and the underbrush grew taller and more dense. At least it had also gotten a bit warmer. Game was plentiful in the forest, and they always ate well each night. Sayre was often able to pick off a few rabbits or squirrels while they walked, and she'd even trained her mabari to go fetch the animals without breaking the arrows she'd shot into them.

Alistair couldn't say for sure how long they'd been traveling before they found the Dalish elves, but one minute they were walking along in the forest, and the next they were surrounded by arrows pointed at their heads. Only Sayre and Duncan had managed to draw their own weapons that Alistair could see, but both quickly put them up when they saw they were outnumbered. After a quick explanation from Duncan, though, the elves surrounding them quickly turned into an escort to take them into the camp.

The Wardens and Leliana stayed back as Duncan went to speak with the leaders of the Dalish. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen, which didn't bother Alistair any. Leliana attempted to strike up a conversation with the Dalish, but the rest of them remained silent. Sayre was no exception to that, and Alistair was surprised to see her almost cowering from the stares she was getting. He was confused by the hostility the Dalish seemed to have towards her. They were all elves, were they not? He would have expected Sayre to be welcomed into their encampment.

When Duncan returned, he instructed them all to set up their tents in a small clearing just outside the ring made by the wagons the Dalish used. "Seems there's a bit of trouble in the camp," Duncan informed them once they had gotten settled. "The keeper, Zathrian, informed me that many of his warriors are ill, struck down by a disease or a curse. I'm not entirely certain which, but apparently it has something to do with the werewolves roaming these woods."

"But we encountered no such creatures on our journey here," Sayre stated quietly.

"I know," Duncan replied, his tone grim. "And I'm not sure just how much of the story Zathrian is keeping from me. However, warriors who are ill cannot aid us in fighting the Blight."

"So what are we to do, then?" Leonas asked him.

"Zathrian believes that the illness can be cured, or lifted, if we hunt down the werewolves of the forest and bring back the heart of the one called Winterfang," Duncan answered, and Alistair could tell the older man was not pleased by the idea. "So I will be taking a small group with me into the forest. The rest of you will stay here until our return." He looked around. "Leonas, Jon, Eddro, and Wilton will come with me." Duncan turned his eyes toward Sayre. "And your Lady as well, if you are both willing."

The mabari lifted her head at her name. "You don't want me to come along as well?" Sayre asked.

Duncan shook his head. "No, Sayre, I don't. I would rather you stay here and see if you can get yourself a better set of armor. We'll be going to Denerim after this, but we can't say for sure how long we will be staying there."

Sayre ducked her head, and Alistair could tell she was embarrassed by the way the tips of her ears turned pink. She covered it, though, by going to a knee in front of her dog. "Lady, will you go with Duncan and the others into the forest while I stay here?" The mabari cocked her head to one side, then let out a soft bark before turning to face Duncan. She padded up to him and licked the hand proffered to her.

"Very well," Duncan said. "We will leave in the morning. The rest of you are to stay in the camp until our return."

Duncan and the others had been gone for two days before Sayre finally worked up the courage to leave the small ring of tents the Grey Wardens had set up and venture into the Dalish camp with the others. It seemed silly to be so scared, but she knew she hadn't imagined the looks she'd gotten from some of the Dalish when they arrived. They seemed much more willing to accept the humans in their midst than to accept her. She ignored the stares as best she could as she made her way to the man who had done all the trading with the other Wardens. Varathorn was said to be a master craftsman, though Sayre wasn't quite sure what that meant. But if anyone had armor to sell or trade, surely it would be him.

"Ah, hello," said Varathorn as she approached his aravel. "I had heard that one of our city-dwelling cousins was among the Grey Wardens. What can I do for you?"

Sayre relaxed a little at Varathorn's easy manner. "I was hoping I might either purchase or trade for some armor," she said, her hand going to the pocket that held the coins Duncan had given her.

Varathorn took a step towards her, then moved in a circle around her. "Hmm.. yes... I think I have a few things that could be tailored to you easily enough." He went inside his aravel, then came back out holding a pile of leathers. "Try these on and we'll see how close of a fit they are."

Sayre hesitated. "Out here?" She asked.

The man chuckled softly. "You may go inside to try them on," he said, gesturing to the door of the aravel.

With a nod, Sayre ducked inside. She ran her fingers over the supple leather before removing her own armor. The pieces he had given her seemed to fit well enough, but it appeared as though there was a piece missing. "Varathorn?" Sayre called out as she poked her head out through the door.

"Yes, come out. Let me see," he said, beckoning to her.

"I... think I'm missing something," Sayre said, keeping the door closed enough that it covered most of her.

"Don't be shy," Varathorn said. "Come out."

He reached for the door, and Sayre had no choice but to step outside, though she kept her arms folded over her exposed stomach. Surely he must have forgotten to give her... but as Sayre glanced around, she noticed other women about in similar garb, women who did not seem the least bit embarrassed by the fact that they were showing entirely too much skin to be decent. Did Varathorn really expect her to wear such a thing? To make matters worse, she appeared to have attracted the attention of far too many people who were nearby. Leliana, Alistair, and Ben were standing not too far away, and all three had turned to look in her direction. There was also a small group of Dalish men who did not try to hide the fact that they were openly staring in her direction.

"I can't wear this," Sayre said quietly. "It's not decent." When Varathorn's eyes narrowed just a bit, she quickly added, "It doesn't provide decent covering I mean. Decent protection."

"It is no different from what anyone else is wearing," Varathorn said shortly, gesturing to the elves around him.

"Yes, but..." She moved her arms, which caused her to expose her bare stomach but which also allowed her to let him see the scar at her side. "I've already once taken an arrow to this area." She turned so that he could see both the entry and the exit sites. "So I'm sure you can imagine that I feel strongly about keeping it protected. And covered."

Varathorn muttered something under his breath and went back into the aravel, leaving Sayre outside in her indecent armor. She turned as she saw a figure approaching from the corner of her eye, and she felt like the breath had been knocked out of her when her eyes landed on his face. He was Dalish, with tattoos covering part of his face, but it was what was under the tattoos that caused her heart to pound. The man looked very much like Nelaros. She must have been staring too long because the haughty look on the man's face turned into a smirk. He got to her just as Varathorn came back outside.

"Are you outfitting flat-ears now, Varathorn?" The man asked in a condescending voice.

"Now, Lanthon," Varathorn replied. "Be polite to our guests."

Lanthon just scoffed and turned away from Sayre. "Is my bow ready?" He asked.

"Oh. Yes, it's right here," Varathorn said as he went to retrieve the bow.

Sayre couldn't help but notice the proud look on his face as he presented it to Lanthon, though when her eyes fell to the weapon, she could see why. The bow was beautiful, a work of art as well as a weapon, and her hand seemed to reach out for it all on its own. "It's lovely," she breathed.

Lanthon yanked it back from her. "Don't touch it," he barked. "You probably don't even know how to use one of these," he added, which got a few chuckles from his friends, who had come to admire Varathorn's work.

"Of course she does," came a reply from Sayre's back, and she turned to see Leliana, Alistair, and Ben coming over as well. "Sayre is a skilled archer," Leliana continued, giving everyone one of her smiles.

"No one's as good as Lanthon," said one of the Dalish.

"Oh, I bet Sayre's better," Leliana said casually, and Sayre gave her a hard look, which was completely ignored. "In fact, I'd be willing to make a wager on it."

"Leliana!" Sayre said.

"What sort of wager?" Lanthon asked.

"Leliana!" Sayre said again, and this time the woman turned to her.

"Oh, come on. It would be fun, yes? We could set up a tournament," Leliana grinned. "Why don't you go change back into your armor, and we'll get this all figured out."

Sayre turned away from Leliana to look at Alistair and Ben, hoping to receive some sort of support from either of them, but while they were both looking at her, neither of them were looking at her face. As the blood rushed to her ears, Sayre wrapped her arms around her middle and scurried into the wagon to change back into her own armor. When she finished and went back outside, everyone was gone. She tried to focus on what Varathorn was saying to her, and she was sure he got her to agree to something, but she couldn't be sure what it was, and she rushed back to her own camp as soon as she could. Leliana was nowhere to be found, but Alistair was just coming out of his tent, and she went straight to him.

"Where is she?" Sayre demanded.

"I don't know," Alistair said, trying to cover a smile. "Hiding from you, if she knows what's good for her." Sayre scowled. "Oh, don't be too mad at her," he added. "She's been trying to encourage interactions between the Dalish and the Wardens since we got here."

"I don't see why I have to be involved," Sayre grumbled.

"Well, she probably sees you as the link between the two groups," he said, and Sayre narrowed her eyes at him. "You know, because you're..."

"What, because I'm an elf?" She demanded. "Because I look like them, we should all just automatically get along?" Alistair took a small step back from her. "The Dalish hate city elves, Alistair. Everyone knows that."

"Yes, I know. You have it so rough," Alistair muttered under his breath. Sayre's eyes widened, but he just held his hands up. "Look, you're angry. I get it. Don't take it out on me." And with that, he turned and walked away from her.

Sayre just stared at him as he disappeared from view. A part of her wanted to follow after Alistair, to make him understand why she had a right to be upset. Instead she grabbed her bow and quiver and set out into the woods to do some hunting. She knew she wasn't supposed to be going outside of the camp, but she didn't care right then. Sayre had only gotten a little ways away from the tents before she sank down onto a fallen log and covered her face with her hands. Why couldn't Duncan have taken her with him? Why did Leliana feel the need to put her in the middle of everything? And why couldn't Sayre just smile and get along with everyone instead of taking everything so personally?

A twig snapped, and Sayre moved, drawing an arrow before she was even fully aware of what was in front of her. The wolf stood frozen, only a pace away from where the tip of the arrow was pointed at its head. Sayre sighed and lowered her weapon.

"You should know better than to sneak up on people like that," Sayre admonished as the wolf took the last step to sit at her side. She closed her eyes as the wolf's form changed, and when she opened them again, Morrigan was sitting next to her. "I could have killed you, you know."

"Perhaps 'tis you who are too jumpy," the woman replied.

Sayre sighed again. "It must be nice, to be able to just... change into something else and disappear whenever you wish," she said.

Morrigan laughed lightly. "At times, yes." The witch eyed Sayre's bow. "Did you come out here to hunt?" Sayre nodded. "Then let's hunt," she said and shifted back into a wolf before Sayre could even offer an answer.

The two women spent the rest of the day in the woods. Morrigan stayed in her wolf form, which was fine with Sayre. She didn't particularly feel like speaking. When she finally made her way back to camp, she was loaded down with a number of rabbits, quail, and a large turkey. Leliana rushed over to her as soon as she saw her.

"Where have you been?" The woman demanded. "We've been looking for you." She frowned, eying the game on Sayre's back. "You know it's not safe out in the woods."

"I thank you for your concern," Sayre said dryly before pushing the dead animals into Leliana's arms. "Here, why don't you pluck and skin these while I clean up."

Once Sayre returned from washing up, the rabbits had already been placed on a spit to cook. Leliana was telling everyone about the competition that was to take place the following day. Sayre could feel the eyes on her as Leliana spoke, but she was able to ignore them. Well, most of them anyway. Alistair's gaze bothered her, and Sayre retreated to her tent as soon as she was done eating. She was about to duck inside when she felt a hand on her arm.

"That was a really stupid thing to do," Alistair said quietly when she turned around. "You heard what Duncan said before he left. He didn't want anyone leaving the camp."

"Well, as you can see, I managed to survive the trip. I was never in any danger. Nor was I alone while I was out there." At Alistair's raised eyebrow, Sayre elaborated. "Morrigan was with me."

"Oh right," he said, crossing his arms. "Because she's the person I'd want guarding my back when it comes down to it." Alistair shook his head. "I don't trust her, and I don't think anyone else should either. Just remember that she's dangerous. And evil. And mean."

Sayre let out a little sigh, deciding to just ignore his comments about Morrigan. "Look, you were... right," Sayre said, though it almost hurt her to admit it. "I was angry earlier, and I was taking it out on you. But since you left and deprived me of my target, I decided to go take out my anger on some poor, defenseless woodland creatures instead."

"Poor little bunnies," Alistair replied, and Sayre nearly choked on a laugh. He grinned at her response. "Yes, well... I suppose you should get some rest. There's a lot of money riding on your performance tomorrow."

"There's... what?"

Alistair smiled. "You didn't think Leliana was the only one who'd made a wager, did you?"

There were two sets of matching targets set up in the field, and lines had been marked on the ground at varying distances from them. It seemed like the entire camp had turned out for the little competition, and Sayre was surprised by how nervous she felt. There was a little irritation there as well, for having allowed Leliana to bully her into participating in the whole thing, but at the same time, Sayre hoped she might be able to show the Dalish that she wasn't the incompetent city-dweller that they all assumed her to be. Some of them turned their noses up at her more than most humans would, and that bothered her more than she might have thought it would.

There was little ceremony to the beginning of the competition, for which Sayre was grateful. They were both to attempt a number of shots, and they would be awarded points for both accuracy and speed. The problem, though, was that she and Lanthon were fairly evenly matched.

"We need to change something up or we'll be here all day," Lanthon muttered to her after they'd both made a particularly difficult shot.

"Oh, so you're acknowledging that I do in fact know how to use on of these?" Sayre asked, giving her bow a little shake.

Lanthon just grunted at her. "Why don't we combine the last few shots we had to make and turn it into a race?" Those last few shots had been a test of their accuracy. A long, horizontal stick had been placed so that it stretched above the two targets, and metal rings hung down from the stick on strings of different lengths. The rings were all different sizes, with the smallest being just barely big enough for an arrowhead to pass through it. "The first person to get an arrow through each of the five rings wins," Lanthon continued. "Agreed?"

"Fine by me," Sayre consented, ready for the whole thing to be over.

They each took their places in front of the targets. Lanthon had his quiver on the ground where he could pull arrows from it, but Sayre kept hers on her back. Someone counted down from three, and then they began. Sayre drew an arrow and took a moment to aim at the smallest ring before loosing it. She heard a clang as the head of the arrow struck the side of the ring. She had missed, but the arrow was stuck into the target next to the ring, effectively keeping it from swinging back and forth. She took aim again, and her second shot hit true. The next four she made on her first try, and when the last ring had been pierced, she called out, "Done."

Lanthon had an arrow drawn, and he loosed it just as Sayre spoke. His arrow found its mark, going through the last of his rings, but he had been just a little too slow. "Congratulations," he said over the cheers of those assembled. "It would seem I underestimated you." He held up his bow.

Sayre glanced down at the weapon. "I don't understand."

"It's your prize," he said, giving her a strange look. "The wager made with your red-headed friend over there. Take it."

"I... couldn't," Sayre said, shaking her head.

Lanthon just looked angry at her refusal. "You would have me go back on my word in front of everyone? It's yours. Take it."

"Thank you," Sayre managed as he placed it into her hands.

"Don't thank me," Lanthon said, his anger replaced by what almost looked like amusement. "It's not a gift."

Later that evening, once she finally managed a moment alone, Sayre snuck off into the woods again to test out her new bow. It was finer than anything she'd ever touched before, and she spent a long time just running her fingers over the carvings in the wood, familiarizing herself with every detail. Once she was done examining it, she looked around for a suitable tree to use as a target and fired off a couple test shots.

"It's not bad, is it?" A voice said behind her.

Sayre turned to see Lanthon leaning against a nearby tree, watching her. She hadn't even heard him approach. "Have you come to take it back, now that there are no others watching?" She asked, taking a step away from him.

Lanthon snorted. "A man's word isn't worth much if he only keeps it in public." He smiled. "Besides, I can always get Varathorn to make me another one."

"Oh," Sayre said softly. "Was there... something you needed then?" She asked when the man continued to stand there, watching her.

"We're all just a little curious about you, I suppose," he said with a shrug of his shoulder. "How exactly does an elven woman come to find herself traveling with such a large group of human men?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Sayre said. "I'm not sure what you're implying..."

"When you showed up here, we all just assumed you were the camp whore," Lanthon offered by way of explanation, in such a matter-of-fact way that left Sayre gaping. "I mean no offense," he added.

"You mean no..." Sayre felt her face heat in anger. "How can what you said be anything but offensive?"

"We've all heard stories about the city elves and their... relationships with the shemlen," he said.

"You presume too much. Way too much. You know nothing of what it's like for us there. Nothing!" Sayre's voice had risen, and Lanthon took a step towards her.

She threw the bow at him, which he managed to catch before it hit his chest. Sayre stepped around him to go back to camp, but as she passed he reached out and grabbed her arm. Maybe Lanthon had wanted to say something, but she never gave him the chance. As she turned to face him, Sayre's fist flew at his face. Not expecting the blow, Lanthon made no move to block her, and she hit him square in the nose, landing the punch with a sickening crack.

"You bitch," he cried out.

He took a step forward, then reached to grab at her. The two of them grappled for a moment, but they finally ended up on the ground, Sayre atop him, raining blows down on his face and chest. Lanthon could only hold his hands up in front of him in an attempt to block her frenzied assault. It wasn't until a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her off of him that Sayre even realized what she was doing, but by that time, Lanthon lay unmoving on the ground, his face a bloody mess.