A/N: Hey guys! Here's chapter 9 for your reading pleasure! Also, I went back and edited chapters 4-8 and tried to make sure the POV changes were divided. From my view, that didn't work, so let me know if they're still divided and easier to read! As always, I do not own Dragon Age and don't forget to review/favorite/follow! Enjoy!

Chapter 9

On the Road Again

They left the hut in short order, Morrigan leading them through the thick swampy forests and around groups of straggling darkspawn. Nuala was relieved to finally be under way with a goal in mind. Admittedly, they could go in several different directions and she wasn't exactly sure which way she should go. Orzammar was easily the farthest away, and Nuala wasn't sure she was ready set foot back inside her ancestral home. That left the Circle Tower, the Dalish, and Redcliffe. She sighed as they walked. Maybe they should make that decision together? Afterall she was not really in charge, was she?

It took several hours to navigate through the wilds and around the horde. When they finally breached the tree line and found the King's Highway, the sun was low and the group breathed a collective sigh of relief to see an end to the trees. It was the first they had made any sound since they left Flemeth and the hut. The dwarf was especially worried about Guin and Alistair. Not only had they not said a peep, but they seemed to be incredibly withdrawn. She understood why, of course. Alistair had just basically lost all of his friends at once. Guin had recently lost almost her entire family, only to wake up today to realize that the last friend she had from her past was gone, too.

"How far from Lothering are we?" Braden asked, breaking the silence as he gazed at the position of the sun.

"Several miles, five at the least," Morrigan replied brusquely.

Braden glanced back at Nuala, and inquired, "when do you think we could set up camp for the night? With the sun that low, we don't even have an hour left of daylight and we can't walk five miles in an hour."

Nuala sighed. "Well, I don't know how far ahead of the horde we are, and I don't want to be caught unaware in the middle of the night."

"The horde hasn't advanced much, at least it doesn't feel as if they have. Armies do tend to move rather slowly," Alistair supplied quietly.

"Then how much time would we have to rest, or maybe we should keep on until dark, try to put a few more miles between us and them?" Guin asked.

Morrigan nodded, "I agree. We should push on ahead, try to get as close to Lothering as possible before dark."

"Ok, be on the lookout for kindling or other things we can use for a fire," Nuala stated tiredly. The others nodded and they descended into silence once again.

They walked for another hour, Alistair, Braden, and Guin picking up sticks alongside of the road. As the sun got lower, the longer the shadows of the trees that crossed the road. Morrigan summoned a light that they could by, to avoid tripping over something in the road. By the time they stopped to set up camp, the sun had descended passed the horizon and the moon was rising in the night sky. The clearing they decided on for camp lay by a small stream a short walk from the road. The kindling was dumped on the ground and Alistair set up the campfire while Braden provided the spark. Morrigan left to find a hare or other sort of meat, while Guin walked down to the stream with the vegetables Flemeth had given them so they could be washed. They did this without so much as a word exchanged. Nuala was torn between being impressed by the innate teamwork and even more concerned with the lack of communication. She didn't know what to do, so instead of trying to force conversation, she pulled some fallen logs around the campfire Alistair and Braden created and went to find the small kettle for a stew. Maybe they would come around on their own. Hopefully.

Guin rejoined the others after several minutes of scrubbing the cabbage and carrots free of dirt. She hadn't paid attention to most of her activity, only realizing she'd been cleaning the vegetables for a long while when the skin of her hands was cold and wrinkly from the water. Morrigan was skinning and cleaning a hare and Nuala had just set a kettle over the fire, filled halfway with water. Before long, the ingredients were in the pot and simmering over the fire. The companions sat around the fire in quiet as they waited for the stew to finish, either staring at their feet or at the stars, but never at each other.

Morrigan stirred the stew, the clank of the large spoon against the sides of the kettle the only sounds made aside from the crackling the fire and the wildlife. It was lulling and Guin found herself drifting again. Her mind wandered back to her family, to her brother lost within the Korcari Wilds and her faithful hound and companion left behind in Ostagar. Would she ever see them again? The likelihood of that was low. They'd have to get around the darkspawn, and they'd only been able to do that because Morrigan knew the wilds and Alistair could pinpoint where the darkspawn were. Without guides like that, Fergus's and Ares's survival was highly unlikely. Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she beat them back angrily before they could fall passed the lower lid. She was so tired of crying, so exhausted with everything.

"The stew is ready," Morrigan commented, tapping the spoon on the side of the kettle.

Alistair stood, looked within the pot and frowned. "It is? It doesn't look ready, it isn't grey."

"Grey?" Morrigan inquired with a scowl at the former templar.

"Well yes, stew is finished when everything is a uniform grey," Alistair stated.

Morrigan looked appalled by the notion. "And do you consider your meat finished when it is black?" she demanded incredulously. Alistair shrugged, scowling back at the witch, but did not otherwise respond.

"How about a vote to not ever let Alistair cook our meals?" Braden offered, smiling. "All in favor, say 'aye.'"

Laughing, Nuala nodded before explaining, "no, Alistair, stew is not supposed to be grey! And meat should not necessarily be black either, though charring the skin is popular in Orzammar."

Guin found herself laughing quietly as well and stood to look at the stew. Taking a deep whiff, she smiled at the wilder woman and said, "it smells wonderful, Morrigan." Morrigan sniffed, nodding slightly at the compliment and began to dish out a portion for herself. Braden and Nuala followed suit and soon everyone was partaking of the stew, perched on the logs surrounding the fire. Quiet settled again upon them as they ate, but this time it was a comforting silence, enveloping as a warm blanket.

After they'd all finished eating and cleaning up after the meal, Nuala spoke. "We should work out a guard rotation. I don't want to be caught unawares as we sleep."

"A sound notion," Morrigan commented.

"I'll take the first watch," Alistair offered.

Nuala nodded, stating, "I'll take the middle watch." Braden volunteered for third watch and the both of them decided to call it an early night to catch what sleep they could. Morrigan left the campfire not long after, retreating into the shadows away from the rest. Guin stayed where she was. She wasn't ready to go to sleep and didn't want to dream about what she had lost.

After several minutes of quiet – only being filled by Nuala's and Braden's soft snores from their positions on the ground – Guin turned to study the man sitting with her at the fire. He looked lost as he gazed into the fire, shoulders heavy with an invisible burden. Guin frowned. She had been so absorbed with losing her hound and the possibility of never finding her brother, that she forgot what he was going through. He just lost all of his brothers-in-arms in one battle.

"Hey," Guin said quietly. She waited for his gaze to lift from the dancing flames before she continued. "You've been really quiet since we left Flemeth's. How are you doing?"

A small smile graced Alistair's lips as he replied, "I could ask you the same thing, my Lady. You're the pot calling the kettle black."

Guin returned his smile, turning back to the fire. "I guess you're right. I've been quiet, too."

"I understand. You've been through a lot recently," Alistair stated noncommittally.

"Yes, but so have you," she pressed. Her gaze returned to him but he was looking at the fire again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He sighed and closed his eyes. "You don't have to do that," he stated quietly. Opening his eyes, he refused to turn his gaze to her, resolutely staring at the flames. "I know you didn't know them as long as I did."

Guin studied him and frowned. He was trying to put on a strong front for her, but she could easily see how much pain he was in. Those men he lost, the other wardens, were like family to him and the hurt that loss caused would run deep. "Duncan… he was like a father to you, wasn't he?"

Alistair's face crumbled and he lowered his head to hide from her. His shoulders shook, whether from the effort to combat tears or from the tears themselves, Guin did not know. So, she rose from the log she was perched on and joined the ex-templar on his, scooting close and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. As if her heart hadn't broken enough in the past week, she felt it breaking again, for him.

After a few moments, Alistair said shakily, "I should be handling this better. Duncan… warned me from the beginning that this could happen." He paused, taking a shuddering breath and lifting his head again. His hazel eyes glistened, but his cheeks were dry. "Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't be losing it like this… not when so much is riding on us. Not with the Blight and… and everything. I'm sorry."

Guin frowned at him. "There's absolutely no need to apologize, Alistair." And there wasn't. His reaction to the events at Ostagar was perfectly natural.

He swallowed audibly and nodded, inhaling another shuddering breath. "I'd… I'd like to have a proper funeral for him once everything has settled down, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"He had you," she replied immediately.

Alistair smiled and finally turned his gaze to look at her. "I suppose he did. It probably sounds stupid, but I wish I had been there with him, in the battle. I feel like I abandoned him," he stated.

"That's not stupid, Alistair. I understand exactly how you feel," Guin stated.

Alistair regarded her curiously for a moment before asking, "have you… have you had anyone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry of course, it's ok if you don't want to talk about that…"

Guin frowned, removed her arm from his shoulders and returned her gaze to the fire. Should she talk about her own grief and loss when she was trying to comfort him? Would she even be able to? Maybe it would help. With a sigh, she started, "yes, I have. I lost my whole family recently. They were…" A lump formed in her throat, cutting off her words. That wound was fresh still, and she found it hard to even continue that line of thought, let alone say it out loud. Clearing her throat against the tightness that had formed, she continued, "they were murdered when my home was attacked almost a week ago. My mother and father made me promise to leave them behind so I could find my brother and bring Howe to justice." She sighed, feeling the grief well up, but she beat it back once again. "But, if I hadn't gone, I'd be dead, too."

Alistair's eyebrows raised, shock registering in his warm, hazel eyes. "I – I didn't know. I'm so sorry, my Lady." This time, he wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, offering his support and comfort. Guin greatly appreciated it. "You're right, though. I don't think your parents would have been happy with you dying there. Neither would Duncan be, I don't think, if I had stayed by his side." They fell into a heavy silence after that, Guin's thoughts wandering back to that night and the responsibility she had to uphold. Alistair was right about one thing, her parents would not have been happy had she stayed and defended them and the best way to honor them would be to bring Howe to justice. She knew she would always hurt at the loss of her parents, but somehow, now she felt a small measure of peace after actually talking and sharing her grief with someone else. Is this what it would have felt like to tell her brother about what happened? She wasn't sure, and now, she may never get the chance to even see him again.

Suddenly, Alistair spoke, breaking the heavy silence between them. "I think Duncan came from Highever, or so he said. I'll go up there sometime, see about putting something up in his honor or something like that. I don't know."

Guin smiled at him and nodded. "I think that's an excellent idea. And maybe I could go with you?"

Alistair returned her smile. "I would like that and so would Duncan, I think." He paused before catching her gaze and saying earnestly, "thank you. Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little."

"Anytime, Alistair. This helped me, too," she replied before standing and stretching. She could feel the exhaustion from the day creeping up on her and felt now was a good time to find some sleep. "Goodnight, Alistair."

"Goodnight, my Lady," he reciprocated, offering her a small smile.

"Alistair, I think, given the circumstances, you can call me Guin," she replied. She saw his smile widen before she turned away, in search of a nice spot of ground to sleep on and lay down for the night. It wasn't long before she found a comfortable spot and let the sounds of the night and crackling fire lull her into a heavy sleep.

The next day, the group broke camp quickly and were on the road within an hour after waking. Alistair felt lighter today than he had since before the Tower of Ishal. He didn't know if it was because he'd discussed and shared his grief with someone else, or if it was simply because Lady Guinevere had deemed him worthy of using her given name. He still hadn't quite worked up the nerve to use her name without the honorific, however.

Said noblewoman was walking at the front beside Nuala, discussing maker knows what. Braden and Morrigan took up the rear. The latter two were talking quietly between themselves. Alistair still could not understand what the mage saw in the wilder woman, but decided it would be better to attempt to steer clear of the witch.

"So, Alistair," Guin said, suddenly appearing at his side and matching his stride. "You said you grew up in Redcliffe, but you also know Arl Eamon? How is that, exactly? Did he raise you?"

Uh oh. "Ah… did say that? No, I meant I was raised by dogs. Giant, slobbering dogs from the Anderfels. A whole pack of them, in fact," he replied, hastily. Guin was on a dangerous line of questioning and this was the best, most ridiculous thing he could think of to throw her off.

The noblewoman quirked an eyebrow at him, a small smile forming on her lips before looking ahead. "That would explain the smell."

Alistair laughed, albeit nervously. He hadn't exactly expected that response. Well, he'd already started down this avenue of backstory, he might as well milk it. "Well, you see, it wasn't until I was eight that I discovered you didn't have to lick yourself clean. Old habits die hard, I guess."

A laugh escaped Guin this time, light and tinkling in sound. Alistair found he quite liked the sound of her laugh. "That would explain the breath too, I suppose," she replied, regarding him now with mirth dancing in her gaze, lips quirked in a smile.

"And my table manners, too! Though, come to think of it, they weren't all that different from the other templars," he added. Maybe now he could divert her attention from this line of questioning completely. He had to change the subject. His tone grew slightly serious as he continued, "or did I dream all of that? Funny the dreams you'll have when you sleep on the cold, hard ground. Are you having strange dreams?"

A mischievous glint sparkled in Guin's green eyes that made Alistair feel a little uneasy. "Only the ones where we make passionate love under the stars." The look she sent him was nothing short of 'bedroom eyes,' despite the pink the blossomed on her cheeks.

Heat rushed to Alistair's cheeks and his mind went immediately to the images that her words conjured. Gulping, he forced his mind to go blank, else he'd really embarrass himself. Damn, she saw right through his attempt to change the subject and completely derailed his train of thought. It didn't help that she kept her green-eyed gaze trained on him while he tried to pull himself together. "Touché," he muttered. She laughed at his resignation and discomfiture, only making him more embarrassed. It seemed she knew exactly where to press him to get what she wanted.

"Are you going to answer my question now?" she pressed, still giggling.

Alistair sighed, shoulders slumping. Well, he couldn't think of another way out now, but maybe he didn't have to tell her the whole of it. If she knew, she would treat him differently. Everyone would. "Let's see, how do I explain this? I'm a bastard and before you make any smart comments, I mean the fatherless kind." He kept his gaze trained away from her, unable to look at her as she processed this information. Instead, he continued with the story of his upbringing, leaving the most crucial information out, of course. "My mother was a serving girl in Redcliffe castle who died when I was very young. Arl Eamon wasn't my father but he took me in anyhow and put a roof over my head. He was good to me and he didn't have to be. I respect the man and I don't blame him anymore for sending me off to the Chantry once I was old enough."

Guin was quiet as he finished, processing what he'd said no doubt. "So, you say Arl Eamon isn't your father. Does that mean you know who is?"

Crap, crap, crap! Anxiety twisted his guts and he exhaled a breath in an attempt to remain calm. He was going to have to lie. "I know who I was told was my father, but he died even before my mother did. It isn't important." He answered with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. He had to steer her away from questions regarding his father. If she found out, she wouldn't see just Alistair anymore, she'd see the bastard son of a dead king. The thought made his guts twist even more. "Anyway, Arl Eamon eventually married a young noblewoman from Orlais, as you know, which caused all sorts of problems between him and the king because it was so soon after the war. But he loved her…" He paused, frowning as he thought of Isolde. Once she had joined them at Redcliffe, his life had been turned upside down. She basically banished him from the castle, ordering he sleep in the stables. He wasn't allowed to eat at the table with them either, forced to take his meals in the servants' quarter or kitchens. Those couple of years had been absolute misery. The Arl had done what he could, but Isolde was adamant that she didn't want him around. Ultimately, Eamon had to appease his wife if he wanted her to stay. "The new Arlessa resented the rumors which pegged me as Arl Eamon's bastard. They weren't true, but they still existed. The arl didn't care, but she did. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten. Just as well, the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me," he finished, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into his tone.

"What an awful thing to do to a child!" Guin exclaimed, scowling now. Alistair's heart lifted, gratified she sympathized with him.

A small smile curled the corners of his lips up, even as he shrugged. Her cruelty toward him was so long ago and his resentment had dimmed since then. "Maybe. She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her, now. She wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet." He sighed, eyes going unfocused as he remembered the day he was told he would be leaving Redcliffe. The tantrum he'd thrown was unworthy of him, but he had been so angry, and as a result, destroyed something precious to him. "I remember… I had an amulet with Andraste's holy symbol on it. It was only thing I had that belonged to my mother. I was so furious at being sent away that I threw it at the wall and shattered it. Stupid, stupid thing to do. The Arl came by the monastery a few times to see how I was, but I was stubborn and refused to see him. I hated it there and I blamed him for everything and eventually… he stopped coming."

He felt Guin put a hand on his shoulder and, surprised, he turned to look at her. She looked sad, empathetic, and supportive, all in one and Alistair had no idea what to do with that. "You were young," she stated simply.

"And raised by dogs," he added, attempting break the heavy mood he'd found themselves in. "Or I may as well have been, the way I acted. But maybe all young bastards act like that, I don't know. All I know is that the Arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. And since he was the king's uncle, he'd have a personal motivation to see Loghain pay, like you said yesterday." He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he finished. He hoped that would be enough to sate her curiosity, at least for now. "Anyway, that's really all there is to the story."

Guin nodded removing her hand from his shoulder. She opened her mouth as if to say something but a sound behind them cut her off. She stopped in her tracks, twirling around, eyes fixed on the spot in the road that disappeared around a corner. Alistair turned as well, eyebrows furrowing at the sound. Braden and Morrigan, having noticed the pair ahead of them stop, paused in their stride as well, watching them in confusion before turning as well.

"Was that a ba—" Braden started, but a sudden strong tugging sensation made Alistair's eyes widen.

"Darkspawn!" he shouted, removing his sword from its sheath and holding it awkwardly in his left hand. Unfortunately, his right arm and dominate hand was still in the sling, so he could not don his shield. Fuck, he'd be unprotected on his right side and unable to fully use his sword. Flemeth had expressly told him that his bone was still mending, and using it to fight would only increase the time it would take to heal. Well, at least he still had his armor.

At his shout, his companions immediately armed themselves and not a moment too soon. Not a second later, darkspawn burrowed up from the ground around them, laughing in their low, demonic voices. The monsters wasted no time attacking and soon, they were all engaged in battle. Guin stayed by Alistair's side, defending his right flank, much to his relief.

Morrigan and Braden watched each other's backs as well, firing spells left and right at the surrounding darkspawn and letting a single monster get close. Nuala ripped through any darkspawn, wreaking havoc wherever she could.

The fight didn't last too long, but the group was still left winded. Seven dead darkspawn lay on the ground, black ichor seeping into the dirt. Alistair wiped his blade off in the grass, trying to clean as much of the blood from his blade as possible. Guin and Nuala were doing the same, making sure their blades were clean so they wouldn't rust in their scabbards.

"Those darkspawn… does that mean that the horde isn't far?" Guin asked, looking from the dead darkspawn to the Grey Wardens in the company.

Alistair paused, searching in his head for the ever-present connection to the darkspawn. After a quiet moment, he shook his head. "No, the main bulk of the horde is still a long way off, several miles at the least. These would be… scouts, for lack of a better term."

WHUFF!

Guin whirled back towards the sound, facing the bend of the road. It was the same sound as before, but closer this time, and definitely the sound of a dog's bark. Around the corner ran a russet-colored mabari, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it bounded toward its master. Just behind it came a grey-colored mabari, picking up speed when it saw the group gathered in the middle of the road. "Ares!" Guin exclaimed, running toward her hound. She skidded to her knees and her warhound collided with her, sending her to her back. The noblewoman was laughing jovially, her hound equally as happy if the wagging if his entire rear end was anything to go by.

The second mabari ran up to Nuala and offered the dog equivalent of a smile, plopping its butt down on the road. "Kali?" the dwarf asked, surprise registering on her features. The mabari whuffed, standing up and licking the dwarf in the face.

Alistair smiled at the two, saying, "I think she was out there looking for you. It looks like she's chosen you."

Guin managed to get back to her feet, Ares bouncing around her joyously. The noblewoman approached Nuala and the new mabari, studying the interaction between them before smiling wider. "Alistair's right, Nuala. Mabari do that, it's called imprinting. Like Ares has imprinted on me." She reached a hand down and scratched behind one of the russet hound's ears.

Morrigan scowled. "Does this mean we're going to have two mangy beasts following us about now? Wonderful," she groused, folding her arms across her chest.

Alistair rolled his eyes before squatting near the two war hounds and said, "they're not mangy!" Both mabari whuffed happily at him, Ares nudging his side with a large head. Alistair obliged the hound with another scratch behind the ears.

Nuala's head snapped up. "Wait, would you take her, Alistair? I don't know anything about dogs."

"Me? I don't want a dog, I can barely take care of myself!" he replied with alarm, standing back up and away from the smoky-colored hound.

"So many comments come to mind I cannot even begin to choose…" Morrigan stated, tone laced with disdain and mock-thoughtfulness. Alistair glared at the witch, clenching his teeth to keep from responding.

"Nuala, you helped that mabari back at Ostagar, right? It must remember that and that's why its imprinted on you. From what I've read on them, once a mabari has imprinted, it's not easy for them to serve another master. That dog is loyal to you," Braden explained.

Nuala considered the hound before her, who was looking at the dwarf with hope and expectation. She sighed and said, "if she comes with us, both of you will have to help me. You'll have to teach me how to take care of her." Her gaze moved between Guin and Braden expectantly.

"Of course I'll help!" Guin replied and Braden nodded an affirmative.

Nuala glanced back at the hound as she said, "alright, Kali, you can come with us." The mabari whuffed happily, jumping about like Ares had before and wagging her rear end enthusiastically.

Morrigan huffed disgustedly and walked ahead, Braden running to catch up with her. Alistair rolled his eyes at the pair, but said nothing. It wasn't his place, anyhow. His attention was very soon taken by Guin, who had a huge happy smile plastered to her face and she started forward once again, with Ares by her side. He was relieved to see her so happy, glad she found some light in the darkness she'd been suffering for so long.

As the group got underway toward Lothering, Alistair sent a silent prayer to the Maker, that the noblewoman in front of him would experience no more loss. She had gone through quite enough already.

Braden studied the position of the sun as they walked. Thanks to the Astronomy lessons he took at the tower, he could tell the time by the position of the sun as well as the stars. Those lessons hadn't been very popular at the tower (afterall, most of the mages weren't allowed out of the tower, so why would they need to know about the sun and stars?), but Braden had always dreamed of leaving, and he loved studying the stars. Also, it was informative to learn about how the phases of the moon and positions of certain star formations affected the veil between this world and the fade. Anyway, it was nearing mid-morning, meaning they had left camp behind nearly two hours ago. They should be getting close to the Lothering, but the hills surrounding them blocked and views further than fifty feet out.

For most of the time they'd been walking, Braden had been trying to converse with the wilder woman, but wasn't having much luck. She was very standoffish and snobbish and would not respond to him with more than one or two word answers. It was time to try again, especially if they were to be at Lothering soon. He wanted to get to know the woman before having to address his warden responsibilities.

"Morrigan, I'd like to ask you something," Braden started.

She sighed, almost a groan, as she replied, "if you must." Well, that was three words. It was good enough place to start. Either that, or she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security, allowing him to believe they may actually have a conversation.

"You grew up in the wilds—"

"Stating the obvious," Morrigan interrupted, turning her golden gaze on him. "That's not a question, nor even an intelligent comment."

Braden exhaled a breath in exasperation. "I wasn't finished. I wanted to know what it was like. I was stuck in a tower for the majority of my life and have very little knowledge of what life is like for those outside the tower."

"Why do you ask me such innane questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?" She snapped.

Braden smirked at the word use. "You can probe me anytime." Maker, he just could not resist.

Despite herself, Morrigan grinned, even though her response was still standoffish. "Beg pardon, then, while I jump for joy." She sighed, eyeing him again. "You will keep pestering me unless I answer, won't you? Fine, what was it you asked? What growing up in the wilds was like?" She turned her gaze away, facing forward once again. "For many years, it was simply Mother and I. The wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Mother's tales of the world of men. In time, of course, I grew curious. I left the wilds and explored the world beyond, but never for long. My forays into the civilized wildness beyond the Wilds were brief."

"But, you kept going back?" Braden asked. The Wilds were not nearly as confining as the Circle Tower was, but everytime he had managed to get beyond its walls, he'd been dragged back. His mentor had started calling him 'the wanderer' because of it.

Morrigan looked at him strangely, as if the idea of leaving her home forever was crazy. "Of course I did. Would you not do the same? Your world is a cold and unforgiving place. The Wilds I hail from is home to me and I, a natural denizen. And what I had been taught by mother was not enough. The truth I saw was overwhelming. So confident and bold was I, yet there was so much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for."

Braden smiled at her and replied, "very daring. That sounds like you."

Morrigan giggled and Braden felt his stomach flip at the sound. This may have been the very first time she'd laughed in response to something he'd said. "Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps. Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a chasind who happened to by travelling with a merchant caravan. He pointed at me and gasped and began shouting in his strange language and most assumed he was attempting to cast a curse on me. I acted the terrified girl and, naturally, he was arrested."

"That was quick thinking," he stated, impressed. Admittedly, he didn't know how young she had been at the time, but regardless had done exactly what she needed to get out of that situation safely. It showed an intelligent and sharp mind and Braden found himself all the more attracted to her.

She smirked at his response. "Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman. One, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child's play," she finished smugly. Her golden gaze found him again, eyes calculating as she regarded him. Was she coming to the same conclusion about him as she had with most of the other men she had come across?

Her gaze left him a very short moment later and she continued, "the point being that I was able to move through human lands fairly well. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wilds looks like, 'tis not I. Not that I did not have trouble, of course. There are things about human society that have always baffled me, such as the touching. Why all the touching for a simple greeting?"

Braden quirked an eyebrow at her, a flirtatious smirk playing on his lips. "Were you upset by the all the bad touching?"

Morrigan chuckled, a matching smirk playing on her full lips and her golden eyes catching his. "At least with that sort of touching I would have been able to intuit the intent with far greater ease." Braden felt a little blood rush to his face. He had flirted with her, yes, he just hadn't expected her reciprocate! Damn, was she playing with him again?! Her smirk turned smug, a self-satisfied chuckled leaving her lips, and he had his answer. Those ethereal golden eyes of her turned their gaze away once again, looking ahead. "There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another's eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending… none of these things I knew."

Braden shrugged, already over her tricking him again. "In your defense, I don't know the ceremonies of eating at a table, either. From what I heard from the noble children at the circle, there would be four forks, four spoons, six plates and whatever else. Too many for just one person and they have a particular order. No, I'm sure if I found myself at a noble's table, I would embarrass myself."

Morrigan smirked, saying, "you do a fine job of embarrassing yourself without the added cutlery." Braden smiled and shook his head, chuckling under his breath. The wilder woman wasn't wrong about that. "Anyway, I gave up a long time ago trying to understand the ways of human society. The last time I returned to the Wilds, I swore to my Mother that I had no intention of leaving again," she finished, her tone slightly bitter. Braden's heart sank. So, she really hadn't wanted to come along with them, only doing so out of a sense of obligation. Admittedly, he wouldn't have joined their little group had he the choice, either, so he really couldn't blame her.

"Well, once all this is over, you could always return home. But… I am glad it worked out this way," Braden admitted. If she felt so strongly about her home, then she should be able to return.

"Yes, let's just forget the darkspawn currently destroying the Wilds with their presence alone as well as your meager party of Grey Wardens, one of which, an absolute simpleton," Morrigan sneered. Braden frowned, but didn't know what to say in Alistair's defense. He hadn't known the other man long enough to gauge his character passed that he was a good man and a dedicated Grey Warden. The witch shrugged, continuing, "I do not lack appreciation for the intent your comment, of course. Thank you." As she said this, they had crested the rise of a hill in the road and below them sprawled the village of Lothering. They'd finally made it to their first destination on their journey to stop the Blight. Braden sighed. That meant he had to be responsible now, and he didn't know if he was ready.