Mara looked up from where she had been staring into it, and up at the faces around the camp. She could feel them and their hearts. Her mind began to meld with theirs as she felt their thoughts, thinking and seeing the world exactly how they did. Her vision began to blur and double, her mind sinking into theirs. A moment later, she blinked, and saw through new eyes.

Luna... depressive, broken and in mourning. For the life that had been taken from her, from us, from me, for the missing half that will never return. My thoughts were constantly on Tamlen, never straying save for when they needed to think on where I am to step. To live without him is a damnation worse than to not live at all. Being forced to fight with these damnable Shem'len is the worst punishment I can dream of, and I curse Blackwall's name for not allowing me to die with dignity among my people. The only relief that there is to be felt is that one day I shall rejoin him, and I will see him again.

Alistair... terrified out of his mind, and tired. So very tired. His thoughts… my thoughts, often flash with thoughts of Duncan and the other Wardens, with the painful pant of guilt at the knowledge that my brothers and my betters didn't. I didn't deserve to be here, not if Duncan didn't. I know that, for all intents and purposes, that I have be their leader now, that I couldn't just leave the others lost and alone. But I can't. I'm not strong enough to carry such a burden, and that right belongs to Duncan and the other Wardens, not to me.

Leliana… Leliana is...

Mara gasped in a shard of icy pain and shuddered, grasping a hand at her temples where the pain panged from a slow suffering of a sudden headache that crept from where unseen shadows. She could assume the point of view of other people, even those that scared her. She became so close to them, that she often couldn't tell the difference between her and whoever she felt. Sometimes it even felt like they were doing the same things at different times. Even when so far separated, she could still feel it when others would sleep or shower, like she was a stranger in her own body. Her mind was wrapped around others so completely that you lose herself to them. What if she lost time and hurt herself, or someone else? What she had was a brilliant gift that made her so incredibly compassionate and coercive, but it was killing her. She empathised so completely with other people that she began to lose herself. How long could she be someone else before she stopped being herself?

"Mara?" The voice sounded from what felt like a tunnel, millions of miles away in a blaring pang of a haze. "Mara?"

She blinked and looked up to find everyone staring at her. She blinked and looked away, embarrassed. "S-sorry. I'm… I'm fine, just… been a long couple of days."

Alistair nodded, understanding. On top of everything else, they had barely gotten a fire going with the soaked wood that they had, and they had no money for tents after their weaponry and provisions. They were sodden and freezing under the unforgiving moon, and they were hungry. Mara, looked away, and for the first time was grateful for the lack of fire, that no one could see the embarrassed blush on her cheeks.

None of them could sleep, it was much too cold. Icy fingers of death were curled under her tunic, clawing at her skin. So instead they sat around what little a fire they had, frozen and miserable.

"Luna?" Alistair asked after the longest time, no longer wearing his armour as it was too cold to touch, instead in only a plain shirt and dark leather pants. "Can I ask you something?" Luna didn't answer, or ever look up, so he simply continued after a moment. "You don't seem to like me very much. Have I… done something wrong?"

"You are a human." Luna hissed with disdain, not meeting his eyes.

"And that's… bad?" Alistair raised an eyebrow, utterly confused.

"Yes." She hissed, talking short in an effort to get him to drop the subject.

"Why?"

Luna hissed and set down her bow she had been tending to. "You want to hear why you shems are the most despicable people in all of this world? Fine." She spat the words as if they were poisoned, filthy. "When I was… dread wolf's teeth, maybe sixteen summers? I came back from a hunting trip to find half of my clan dead or taken away by a slaving party, among them my little sister. My parents were already dead, killed by your people, and she was all I had left." She picked up her bow again, staring at it longingly, her only friend left in the whole of the world. "She... I tracked her down. Southeast, near the river. They were selling her. That place was swarming with you people, hundreds of them, bidding for things no one has any sort of a right to. What they do to women... that's worse than death." She looked up at Alistair, glaring him down with eyes made of ice and fire, hatred in her heart, her gaze as if he were just as responsible as the men who had stolen her family. "All I had was my bow. I couldn't stop them. So, I pulled back an arrow, and… did the only thing I… the only thing I had the strength to." She lowered her head, dropping her bow too, like every other dream she had held. Defeated, bitter, she remembered how she had killed her only piece of family.

There was tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, Luna glaring down at the ground and Alistair shuffling nervously, uncomfortable. But their heads snapped over when Mara gasped, and collapsed, trying desperately to breathe. For she had been within Luna's memories, unintentionally, and she felt her agony, her sorrow, and it nearly broke her. She couldn't breathe, for the pain was too much, falling on the ground and tearing at her throat, crying, sobbing so much that she could barely see. Alistair rushed to her side, raising her head onto his knee to help her breathe as she gasped for air.

Eventually, it stopped, and she lay there, looking up at the stars, trying not to remember, just like Luna. The camp fell in to an awkward silence, all except Morrigan worried over the young woman, but none said anything. Alistair grabbed a water skin for her, but she was in no condition to drink. So instead he held her chest as the gasping died down.

"You know," Alistair murmured after the gasping and coughing died down and Mara fell silent, but still awake. "I'm a bastard. And before anyone has a comment," He glared at Morrigan. "I mean the fatherless kind. Eamon, the Arl of Redcliffe, he took me in after my mother died, as his. He… he gave me a home when no one else would. It was... it was perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, I didn't sleep on silk sheets in the Keep or anything, but… close enough. And then, one day, he brought an Orlesian noblewoman home to be his wife. She despised me, probably thought I was his bastard. Once, I… I broke one of her plates, on accident. Just a stupid game, but she was furious. She broke another over my head, pretty sure I still have bits of it in my scalp and there was… so, so much blood. Everywhere. So much that you could taste the metal. But I endured it. For Eamon. Because I loved him, and because he had taken me when no one else would. And, in the end, it didn't matter. A week later, he shipped me off to be a templar. Without so much as a goodbye. Just… gone, away from his life. Not because I had done anything wrong, but just because my existence was… inconvenient." He looked up, meeting her eyes seriously. "The world is a cruel place, Luna, one that's built by killers. And it's never kind to anyone, not just you."

Luna glared at him, anger, hatred heaving in her chest. "Why are we even talking about this? It's over. My little sister's dead, Tamlen's dead, the Grey Warden's are dead, soon enough the whole of the fucking world will be dead." She sighed heavily, not meeting his eyes. "I have sealed myself and I have cried my tears. The past is the past, and the future is all that's worth discussing."

But even as she retreated into herself and away from the others, realization clapped in Mara thought of the thing that should have been said to her when she lay choking on that bitter darkness, the same bitter darkness that Luna swallowed every day, and knew that her fellow Warden needed to hear it in turn.

"You think that you're on your own. You think that you really… really fucked it up this time, that you've made a mistake so big that you can't get past it. You… are not alone. And you never were. The only person who hasn't realized that is you."

Luna looked up a bit, and met the genuinely kind gazed of her sister-in-arms. There was no guile in her eyes, no malice. Only… forgiveness. For a moment, it cracked into her armour and she felt welcomed, loved, for the first time since she had left her clan. But then she stood, and stormed off. She wasn't ready to be forgiven.


The next day, after hours of Luna's careful tracking, the party found the Dalish camp at the mouth of the Brecilian Forest, and were stooped immediately by arrows trained on them from the trees above. Mara and Luna raised their hands in a show of non-hostility, which Alistair followed suit a moment later, though Morrigan and Sten left their hands down.

"Hold!" A voice, strong and commanding, called, and the arrows lowered. A woman in green and brown scale armour approached form the treeline, tattoos similar to Luna's across her face. "Andaran atish'an, sister." She greeted to Luna curtly, having noted her face tattoos. "You bring strange travelling companions. What business do you have here?"

"Not here on Dalish business," said Luna. "We're here as Grey Wardens."

"Grey Wardens?" She asked, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't know that they would take our kind. Well, I… suppose this is something the Keeper will have to deal with himself." She shuffled nervously, unsure of herself, but then nodded and beaconed. "With me."

"Didn't know Dalish could be Grey Wardens?" Alistair tilted his head, a pitch in his voice as whispered. "Didn't you say you were Dalish? Wouldn't they have known what happened to you?"

"That's like saying that you're Ferelden, so everyone in the country must know that you're a Warden." Luna hissed. "There's hundreds of Dalish clans. Mine was moving north when I left. This forest was our home for a long time, but this clan came here after we moved. Now quiet."

The woman in armour led them to a grim set man with a bald head and a staff slung around his back like Mara. His face tattoos were a different design from theirs, intricate and complex, covering most of his face, likely because he was apparently a different role, since both women appeared to be hunters. Behind him was another woman, with tattoos different still, hers simple and unobtrusive, and she too wore a staff.

"Who are these strangers, Mithra?" He asked to the armoured woman. "I've precious little time to spend on strangers today."

"Our sister and her companions say they are Grey Wardens." The huntress, Mithra, motioned at them. "And wishes to speak with the clan. I thought it best to leave any sort of decision to you."

"Wisely done." He nodded, motioning. "Ma Serannas. You may return to your post." She bowed, and left them. "Now, allow me to introduce myself. I am Zathrian, the Keeper of this clan, it's guide and preserver of our ancient lore. And you are?"

"I am Luna, of Clan Sabrae." She bowed. "This is Mara of the Magi Circle, Alistair, Morrigan and Sten. We are the Fereldan Grey Wardens."

"Of what's left of them." muttered Alistair.

Mara elbowed him in the rips, and bowed as Luna had, though rather clumsily. "It's an honour to meet you."

"Manners?" He asked, raising a curious eyebrow. "From a Shem'len? Interesting. And what might have brought you here? I suppose you aren't just here to spread news of the Blight? I had already sensed the corruption in the south and heard the news of that battle. Your news would be wasted on me."

"If you don't mind me asking," said Luna. "Why are we still here if you knew of the Blight? You would be one in the way of the Darkspawn if they went East. Why didn't you move the clna if you knew of it?"

"I would have already taken us north by now if we had the ability to move. Sadly, we do not."

"So you've had your own troubles?" laughed Alistair. "What are the odds?" He was met again by another sharp elbow in the ribs by Mara, as well as a kick in the back of the leg from Morrigan, who just wanted in on the beating down of Alistair.

"Your advice for trouble is to run from it?" asked Sten, staring with cold eyes at both Luna and Zathrian. "Interesting."

Zathrian shook his head. "I imagine you're here about the treaty we made to your organization centuries ago?" Luna nodded. "Unfortunately, we might not be able to help you. This will require some… explanation. Please, come with me."

Zathrian guided them to a place that was something of a medical centre in the corner of the camp, guarded by armed men who looked more of farmers or ranchers than warriors. There lay nearly two dozen elves, writhing and groaning in agony. Some of them looked well except for the pain they were clearly in, while others had holes and gnashes in their skin, and blood everywhere.

"Our clan came to the Brecilian Forest, like we do whenever we come to this part of Ferelden." said Zathrian. "We are always wary for the dangers of the forest, but we did not expect werewolves would by lying in wait, specifically for us. They… ambushed us, and though we managed to drive them back, the damage was done. Almost all of our warriors are here as we speak, dying slowly. Even with all of my magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to kill our own so they do not suffer further as beasts. The Blight's evil must be stopped, but we cannot help you like this. If they attack again, we've almost no one to defend us."

"That's awful!" cried Mara. "Is there anything we can do to help?" There was pain and agony everywhere in this place, and it hurt.

"I think there is." He nodded. "Though I hate to put any more of us in danger. I know of… well, it's… a legend only, but in this forest lies a great wolf, that they call Witherfang. It was within him that the curse of Werewolves began, and through his blood that it has spread. If he is killed and you could bring me his heart, what brings him the black blood of the curse, I might be able to break it's hold. But this task… we are in no position to spend any more of our own at it."

"Wait a moment," said Alistair. "You said this might work? What if it doesn't?"

"I can't guarantee that it will work as I suspect." Zathrian admitted. "But it is the only hope we have left. Beyond that, there is no cure for what's happened to my people other than death. I will not put down my own if I don't have to, and we cannot help you if all of our warriors are dead."

"We'll help." Mara promised, drawing a look from Luna. She was feeling the pain of regret in his heart, almost certainly from knowing that he had led his people here to such agony, and there was so much pain here. It didn't matter if they could help them, if she could help alieve this then there was no other choice. "We'll… we'll try to find this werewolf for you."

"I must warn you of the Forest." said Zathrian. "It has a long history of carnage and… well, murder, and awful things committed within it. When there is so much death and suffering, the Veil separating our world from the spirit realm becomes thin. It's full of odd occurrences and strange things. You must be careful. But if you can help us… we will owe you so much. Now, I must return to caring for my people. Creators guide you."


"So, what do you guys think?" Alistair asked when they were safely out of earshot of the Keeper. "Do you think we should help them?"

"Of course we will." Luna looked shocked, as if it weren't a real question. "You don't want to just abandon them to die here alone, do you?"

"I don't know." Alistair admitted. "Something seems… wrong, here. I don't know. But… super intelligent werewolves jumping them, knowing where they're going? That's not normal." He rolled his eyes. "Of course I was raised by dogs, so maybe I am the one to do this."

"Which is exactly why we can't just leave them like this." insisted Luna. "Do you really think they can take these… things by themselves?"

"If they cannot defend themselves," Sten interjected. "Why do we want them for allies? It seems to me that the Blight is a greater danger than wolves. You promised repeatedly that they would be our greatest allies, and were filled with peerless warriors and strategists, but I see none."

"He's a point." said Morrigan. "No matter how powerful these creatures he's drawn from fairy tales might be, the Darkspawn are almost certainly to be worse. How do you suppose they will fare when faced with a real challenge?"

"I can't believe you!" Luna shouted. "You all want to just abandon injured and dying people when they need you the most?" She hissed, looking away. "Of course you do."

"I don't." said Mara, and Luna looked up. "We can't just leave these people to their misery. I'm for helping them on sheer virtue of helping them when they need us. The Dalish are a proud people, and if they're willing to accept the help of humans, then we know that they're really desperate."

"I agree." Leliana said. "I came with you to do the Maker's work, and whether that's killing Darkspawn or protecting people who need us, it needs to be done, and we're the only ones who can help."

"Ah yes," Morrigan complained. "Let us help everyone in the whole of the world who asks for our help, regardless of if they can do anything in return. The Darkspawn will indeed be impressed when they find that we've helped kittens from trees."

In spite of their protests, the party left for the forests. Nothing could deter Luna from helping the people that she held so close to her heart, and the compassion of Mara and Leliana was enough to convince the others, albeit reluctantly.

Luna led the other's with her bow within easy reach, but peaceably slung across her shoulder. The forest called to her heart and giant gnarled trees as old as time reached out to her once more. She felt almost a crude, mocking sadness for those in the cities who had sold their freedoms for safety. For that, they would never know the freedom of running though the undergrowth like a wolf, or inhaling the cool morning air before the sunlight drove the fog from the ground.

She was home.

The forest was absolutely gorgeous, with a sparkling river that flowed through the whole of the path and it was filled with beautiful trees dense in the undergrowth. Sunlight shone through the trees, shining through the whole of the forest, and it brought a smile to the faces of all but Morrigan and Sten, warmth and safety.

However, soon the river that marked their entrance into the forest was gone, and none of them knew where they were. The forest was dense with trees that looked the same, and rivers that told them nothing.

Their problems were compounded by the paths that were incomplete, especially in places where trails started and stopped at random. They had no sense of where they had been or where they had come from.

On top of that, they could feel the thin veil that Luna had warned them of was apparent, like a headache itching at the back of their heads, confusing and disorienting them.

"You know," said Alistair. "I hate to say it, but I think we might be lost."

"We are not." Luna folded her arms, indignant at the thought. She had been in these forests before with her clan, a hundred times at least. Surely she couldn't be lost. "We came in… that way."

"We're lost." Mara agreed, looking around. "I think we've passed that tree a dozen times."

"It's a forest, Mara." Luna hissed. "It's full of trees. It's nothing but trees."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Mara sighed. "And I swear it's the same one. Look, it's got a… knot in the wood there."

"It's a knotwood tree. It's supposed to do that."

Sten approached the knot tree in question, and pulled his blade from it's sheath, slashing across the wood, breaking a bit of it into splinters. Now if they came across it again, the debate was settled.

And sure, enough, they did. Once, twice, four times over, and eventually found two of the tree mirrored across from one another identically. Something was definitely not right. They were completely and utterly lost.