"Are you certain you are Qunari?" Athadra asked, only half in jest. Darkness had settled around the camp; Morrigan had settled at the perimeter, perhaps a little closer this time, and Alistair and Leliana were talking idly. Athadra didn't feel like chasing down the memories Alistair wanted to talk about, so she hoped he could find a sympathetic ear in the Orlesian.

"Yes," was the giant's only reply. His tone held no note of sarcasm, and he held her gaze neutrally, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that he was mocking her.

Athadra forged on, regardless. "You seem a little...small," she pointed out. "And you've misplaced your horns." That got a flicker of an expression crossing the Sten's features, which hardly changed even in the thick of battle. They'd found him in a cage just outside of Lothering's low wall, evidently awaiting the darkspawn horde for killing a farming family.

"You speak of physical attributes," he rumbled. Athadra was pleased; those were the most consecutive words he'd spoken since expressing mild confusion that Athadra might possess breasts and know how to use her daggers, and kept obstinately refusing to reconcile the two ideas no matter how many times she'd countered him. "The Qunari are not a people," he continued. "They are all peoples."

Athadra raised an eyebrow. "Even elves?" She'd never heard of such a thing, but then again, records of the horn-heads were scant enough anywhere under the purview of the Chantry.

"Indeed," the Sten replied. That's how he'd introduced himself, as a Sten of the Beresaad, making it sound like a military rank more than a name. "The ones you call Qunari are better known as kossith. The Qun originated amongst us, but thankfully it has spread beyond."

"But you do not look like a kossith," she pointed out. "Not the likeness I've seen, at any rate."

Now it was the Sten's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Do I not?" When she nodded, the corner of his mouth twitched, though he did not smile. "Very well." He took a deep breath and began a low chant, very similar to the one he'd been repeating in the cage, before his rescue. "Kost ebost kata. Ataash varin kata. Menist raqun kata. Anaan esaam Qun." He opened his violet eyes and regarded her evenly.

"What's that mean?" Her brow drew down, but she did not turn her gaze away, even as a small smile did finally cross the Sten's lips.

"It means that you are not fit to judge whether someone is Qunari or not," was all he said, and he turned toward the fire, leaving her isolated in the centre of the camp. After many moments of silence, Athadra regained her feet and strode toward Morrigan's corner of the camp, but on the way she noticed a curious sight; two different caravans had also settled down and made a mini-camp of their own, so that the main fire, Morrigan's enclave and the caravans were like three points on an even-sided triangle.

With an annoyed sigh, she made her way over to the nearest cart. Her expression didn't change when she saw that it was being hauled by the two dwarves she'd saved as her party was leaving Lothering. At the time the elder had wanted nothing to do with the Grey Wardens, but evidently that had changed, and after a few minutes of haggling, she agreed to let him follow her at least to Redcliffe, which she'd settled on as their next destination shortly after saving the dwarf's hide the first time around.

Athadra couldn't remember the remaining straggler, who pulled his cart with a mule and looked hopefully apologetic when she rounded on him. "Name o' Levi," he said before she could open her mouth, "Levi Dryden." Athadra blinked, her fingers twitching to the daggers she still kept at her hips. They were the only remnant of the Warden armour that she'd kept, though parting with the rest of it felt like just another betrayal. She wasn't even certain she wanted to find the sodding Archdemon anymore, if she were honest with herself. "Whoa, now," the man said, holding up his hands. "I was a good friend o' Duncan's. D'he ever mention me? Levi o' the coins? Levi the trader?"

The elf shook her head. "Not even once," she breathed. "What do you want?" The fingers of her right hand had settled around the dagger's hilt by now, and didn't seem likely to move.

"Well, er...y'see...he made me a promise, back before this whole Ostagar business, o'course. That he'd look into a bit o' my family's history, and all that." Levi swallowed. "My great-great grandmother was Sophia Dryden." He paused, probably to see if she recognized the name, and then decided it was best to keep talking. "She was the last Commander o' the Grey in Ferelden afore Duncan...it was her that got the Wardens thrown out in the first beginnin'."

That gave Athadra a moment's pause, but not much longer. "And what does that have to do with me? Now? That was two Ages ago."

"I know that," Levi said. "My family's had our name dragged through the mud ever since then. Been worth less'n dirt, truth to tell. But there's a fortress up near Highever that belonged to the Wardens, y'see. It's where...where I think she died. It's not been prop'ly surveyed since that time, but I know me the way."

Athadra heaved a sigh. "But...you're afraid of what's there, aren't you?" She looked him over; he wasn't as fat as the trader she'd murdered in Lothering, but he had no muscle, either. "Problem is," she pointed out, "Highever's on the other side of the sodding country, on the other side of the bannorn. I dunno if you've noticed, Levi Dryden, but Teyrn Loghain is rallying the banns against the Grey Wardens, which will make it almost impossible to go through."

Levi nodded. "But the Imperial Highway-"

"-goes past Kinloch Hold one way, and through Denerim the other." She held out her left hand and summoned an orb of arcane energy, which startled the man. "Loghain is certain to be heading for Denerim, if he isn't already there. And you can see why I'm not willing to get within twenty furlongs of the Circle Tower."

"But the Wardens are above that," he said earnestly. "The Circle ain't got no right to call you back. You're a Warden." He nodded to himself, and flinched when she screamed with frustration.

"If you haven't noticed, the Grey Wardens are gone! They're all dead, except for one half-wit templar and one traitor mage with a bounty on her head!" She let go of the dagger, but took up the cloth of Levi's shirt. "Duncan's dead, market-man. There ain't no one that can stop the templars from hunting me down and dragging me all the way back like the apostate they all think I am anyhow."

Levi's eyes went wide and he backed up against his cart; he was lucky or smart enough not to try to touch her, which kept her from slitting his throat. "P-please," he said in a squeaky voice. "Not askin' you to turn 'round and go right now...but if'n you can ever make it to Highever, I'm beggin' you to help me...and help yourself. The fortress can be repaired. My family'll do it without a second thought, just you wait."

Athadra couldn't fault the man's courage, even if he stammered and cowered; he did not back down, even though fire danced in her eyes and spells itched at her fingers. After a moment she took a breath and let him go. "Fine," she admitted at last. "You can come to Redcliffe with us, too. If I still have my head, and if Arl Eamon's not as sick as rumour has it, I'll consider it after I've met with the man." She remembered the knight in the Chantry of Lothering, who'd told Alistair about the arl's sudden illness and the arlessa's insistence on finding some miracle cure from the ashes of Andraste herself.

"Thank you, Warden!" Levi was near to tears. "You won't regret this, I'll stake my life on that." She frowned. "I'll try not to be a bother 'till we get to Redcliffe...and then, if need be, we'll part ways. But I pray you'll make good on your cause, and that good Arl Eamon'll pull through and help."

With a little grunt, the elf turned heel and went back to the small tent she'd acquired in Lothering, her plans to seek out her fellow mage abandoned for the night. She ignored Alistair's concerned call, and wished that he'd have the good sense to leave her alone; she didn't know if he'd heard her, but she didn't feel like putting on a brave face for him again. His idea that they could somehow fight Loghain and the Circle and the darkspawn, all on their own, seemed so foolish that she had to laugh. Still, there was nowhere else for her...she certainly didn't want to risk drawing attention to her mother and father, whom she hadn't seen in half her lifetime anyway. She fell asleep hoping that they could somehow outrun the darkspawn bearing down on them.

This night she dreamt of coming to the human settlement from the South, keeping to the shadows with her fellows. She grunted and hissed, and knew that the All-Mother could see through her eyes, too. She saw the steady stream of people fleeing North in the darkness, seeking refuge away from her brothers, and she heard the chords of the All-Mother's song changing subtly. When she made it back to her brothers, she told them without speaking what the All-Mother wanted, and she knew that her brothers would break off from their headlong march and instead would curve around the town to halt this impermissible retreat of the humans...

Athadra woke up screaming again, and got herself tangled in the shoddy wood and canvas of her tent; eventually she decided to cut her way out, and cursed to herself when she saw the unusable remains. By then she'd forgotten most of her dream, but she couldn't stop shuddering for many long minutes until Leliana offered her some bird's eggs cooked on a stone.

Alistair approached her as Morrigan and Leliana broke down their tents; he and the Sten preferred sleeping under the stars, she guessed. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked, and raised an eyebrow when she looked at him so strangely. "You could just say 'no thank you,' you know," he said a bit testily.

"No..." Athadra sighed, and worked on readjusting her leather armour from the fitful sleep. "It's just that that's the first thing I remember Duncan asking me, after...after we got out of the Circle Tower." She shrugged, and Alistair nodded.

"He was...a good man," Alistair said at last.

"Better than us, anyway," Athadra concurred. "Let's go. If I remember right, we can make Redcliffe by nightfall. Sooner, if we take the Highway."

Morrigan rejoined them as they were about to set off. "That might not be wise," she said by way of greeting. For once, Alistair didn't immediately take the opposite position, though he didn't exactly fall over himself to agree.

Athadra sighed. "You know, you're going to regret making me make all the decisions one day. I just know it."

"Luckily, they'll all be looking at you when the smoke clears, and I can just tiptoe away and join a mummers' crew," he said with that same cocky grin. Leliana stifled a giggle, and Athadra raised a brow when she caught a hint of colour coming to the tall man's cheeks. When camp broke, she decided to cross the Imperial Highway and remain South until Redcliffe, so they wouldn't get pinned between it and Lake Calenhad on their way.

They saw the wisdom of their plan almost immediately; a small company of soldiers were marching down the Highway from the East, which the party barely managed to evade as they crossed the wide thoroughfare. One or two of the marchers looked out to the South as they passed, but the group kept on marching, and Athadra took her gang deeper into the woods. The next few hours passed without incident, and though Alistair complained of hunger near noon, Athadra would not stop. She intended to see Redcliffe before nightfall, Imperial Highway or no.

In the early afternoon, however, a woman hailed them down. They'd seen no one on the small side-road all morning, but this one seemed desperate, babbling about how 'they' had attacked a wagon presumably belonging to her and her family. Athadra felt the subtle tingle of magic about the woman and cocked a brow, but Alistair insisted that they help, suggesting that those soldiers might have been deserters taken to banditry in the confusion. So with a sigh and a nod, Athadra motioned for her fellows to follow; the plainly-dressed mage had already ran back.

When Athadra rounded a corner, she indeed saw an overturned wagon with slaughtered oxen, surrounded by familiar-looking soldiers. She halted at the same time the woman did, and barely managed to leap out of the way of a falling tree. She saw that the Sten and Garahel had managed to land on the same side of the tree as well, but she had no time to see if the rest of her companions had halted before the trunk fell. Instead an elf skirted around the strange woman, drawing his own daggers from his back.

"The Grey Warden dies here!"