Anne had not calculated just how damn tiring it would be to walk everywhere. She had learnt to ride at a young age, and while she had always walked around her manor, she was used to travelling longer distances on horseback.
At first she had joined in on the banter, trying to keep up with the Chargers and Varric, but they were too fast for her and she was exhausted by midday.
More than that, her back was aching. She wasn't doing the pregnant waddle yet, but carrying Julienne around was tiresome. Her boots did not help. Despite having stuffed them as best she could, they were broken in to someone else's feet, and her feet were suffering for it.
As they were coming down the mountain, Anne was struggling to find somewhere level to make water. The others had been quietly going off into the brush, clearly able to handle the uneven terrain, but Anne couldn't figure out how the women were doing it. When she finally plucked up the courage to ask Dalish, the elf laughed at her as she went into the underbrush. She returned after a moment, offering a long, thick stick to Anne.
Anne took it, completely confused. "What is this?"
"Prayer stick." The rest of the company had turned to watch them. Dalish was barely containing her glee as Anne continued to stare blankly. "You drive it into the ground, grab on, squat back, and pray it holds while you piss."
She doubled over at Anne's look of horror. With a hot face and ears, Anne stalked off into the trees, the sounds of laughter carried on the wind. But the prayer stick was effective, if somewhat terrifying.
When they did settle in to make the fire and set up the tents, Anne sat down heavily, groaning. The others worked around her while she undid her laces. Sure enough, her heels were covered in blisters.
The healer of the group, a man named Stitches, had passed her a poultice before sitting with the others around the fire. Anne couldn't miss that they had deliberately made their fire away from where she had sat, but she was too tired to move.
Blackwall had simply passed her her dinner with a questioning look, but left her be. When she was done eating her trencher, she climbed into her bedroll with a quick prayer to Andraste for Julienne.
The first night with Grim had been as quiet as the Iron Bull had promised. She had fallen asleep long before he came to bed and was gone before she woke up.
By the end of the second day, the blisters had joined forces to form one large blister on each heel. Stitches's poultice helped, but only so much. To make matters worse, her face had definitely become sunburnt.
Again she plopped down as soon as they made camp, and this time she fell asleep before dinner. When she woke, it was just Varric and the Iron Bull around the campfire.
She groaned, getting to her feet and walking over to join them. The nights of sleeping on her aching back were now compounded by the crick in her neck for falling asleep sitting up. A trencher and some broth in a tin cup was sitting next to Varric. He nudged it toward her and she made short work of it.
She couldn't even hear their conversation. She fell asleep as soon as she finished her bread. Next thing she knew, she was in her tent again and it was morning.
It was then she decided to do her prayers in the morning, since she clearly wasn't going to have energy at night. Since they weren't going to stop for her, she started repeating Exaltations on the march:
"Let me be the vessel." Right foot.
"Which bears the Light of your promise." Left foot.
"To the world expectant." Right foot.
It helped her keep apace with the others, and gave her something else to think about.
It wasn't until the third day that they encountered their first rift. Anne had stood back, letting the Chargers do their work, as they practiced. Grim seemed almost antsy, compared to his usual self. She could tell he wanted to join in, but no demons made it close enough. She scored several hits, but again, her body hummed with a new rhythm as they battled on - the magnetism with the rift slowly overtaking her.
When it came time to shut it, she could the mark cast off a hook into the rift to connect them. This was the farthest distance from which she had tried closing a rift. She felt compelled toward the rift, as if connection were trying to yank her. She refused, closing her hand as if over the rope of light.
She whispered her Exultations with each slow step, sweat beading on her brow as the Chargers cleared a path for her.
As she reached the bottom of it, she felt the Fade physically jerk her arm up. Her eyes widened in surprise at Its demanding and slammed her hand shut automatically. The Rift shattered shut.
Wiping the sweat off on her sleeve, Anne turned to the Chargers' awed faces.
She realized that while they must have seen rifts on their way to Haven, they had never seen her mark in action. All of them were gaping at her marked hand, which was quiet now its job was done.
Anne fought the urge to clasp her hands behind her and cleared her throat instead.
She had hoped that would be a signal to the Iron Bull, but as she turned to look at him, she thought he must have missed it. When their eyes met he rearranged his face and snapped an order to move out, but the look of shock and almost fear he had worn the second before unsettled Anne.
That night there was celebration for their job well done. The lookouts laughed and joked while the rest of the Chargers broke out some ale. Anne had no idea where they could've kept it. Again, she past out directly after dinner. How they had any energy for carousing she had no idea.
On the fifth day they entered the Hinterlands. The nearest Inquisition camp was still another day's journey.
Around midday they came to a beautiful glade. Here the road was mostly overgrown, with knee- high grass. They walked in the wheel tracks that had been worn into the ground from years of travellers. It was hot under her jupon, but the sun felt wonderful on her face. She could hear her mother scolding her for not protecting herself from it, but her burn was peeling away and Varric said she was going to have a 'lovely tan' by the time this was over. She could imagine the words Lady Trevelyan would have for him ("There's no such thing as a lovely tan"), and it made her chuckle to herself.
She almost didn't notice the Iron Bull reaching up to scratch his right horn.
It was the Chargers signal for a possible ambush. She felt her arms stiffen at her sides; she knew not to break formation or grab weapons - not yet.
Up ahead, Varric continued ribbing Solas for something or another, but she could feel the party had changed. Everyone was on high alert.
The Qunari then moved as though to crack his neck: the signal for Templars.
Something in her stomach dropped. She had been preparing for the last week to face them, but actually facing off against them felt different. Apostates were a danger to everyone, but to fight off peacekeepers had seemed impossible.
Solas was brushing off Varric as he fell back and Varric moved forward - he was to join the warriors at the front of the group as the first line of the defense. Skinner was already in second line formation when Solas reached her, while Dalish held back to form the third line with her and Grim.
She knew the next signal would be the battlecry. Midway through the glade, the call rang out. "HORNS UP!"
Anne grabbed her bow from her shoulders, taking her battle stance. Every hair on her body was standing on end. She would swear later that she could smell every single blade of grass in the meadow. Her eyes were quicker than ever, marking every leaf as a possible obstruction and moving onto the next before she could process it.
Templars were pouring from the trees up ahead. Before she could wonder if they could talk this out, an arrow came straight at Solas. She felt his sticky shields come up around all them just in time for him to deflect it.
The foot soldiers were rushing forward; there were maybe fifteen in total. But her vision went past them to see the archers in the trees beyond, at least four of them.
Anne felt Dalish move into action beside her, yelling for her to take aim at the archer taking on Varric. Anne nocked her bow. That arrow whizzed passed the Templar's head, but her second one found his shoulder just as he pointed his bow at her.
The Chargers went to work, the Iron Bull roaring to life with his massive greataxe. She could hear him taunting and laughing as he cut down the first Templar.
Blackwall bellowed next, and suddenly the glade was full of yells and swords and blood.
The sounds pounded through her, sweeping her up in their exalting cries. All she could feel or see or do was fight - it was burning through her, in her pulse. They were all a storm, the shouts the thunder, her arrows the lightning.
Her ears were roaring as she moved on to a next archer. Dalish was shouting, but she was already firing. Too late she realized they had both aimed for the same Templar.
Dalish grabbed her to shout in her ear, "BEHIND THE BUSH!"
Between her and Dalish, three of the Templar archers were down before the foot soldiers had made it past their second line of defense. With the battle flowing through her, Anne could understand why the Iron Bull laughed.
This was glory, this was life.
Dalish moved up to the second line as the last archer fell, using her knives now instead of her bow.
A scream rang out, too close, someone had broken through. Grim was already in action before she found the man on the field. They were locked together, the dwarf giving as good as he got.
Anne's hand went to her quiver. There were two arrows left.
There was a Templar barreling down the field. Anne's arrow flew true, landing in her thigh, but the woman kept moving. Stitches came at her with a side strike, but she rolled her body away it, losing her helmet in the process. She managed a jab at Stitches in his sword arm. His weapon dropped, but the Templar wasn't stopping.
She was coming for the third line, and Grim was still fighting his Templar. She was coming for Anne.
Anne grabbed for her last arrow, but she wouldn't be able to fire it in time. "Let me be the vessel - "
Throwing her bow down, she took the arrow in her left arm and her baselard in her right. "Which bears the Light of your promise -"
The woman was bearing down on her and before she could think, Anne ducked down and came around. "To the world expectant," she screamed.
Her baselard sank into the gap between of armor under the woman's raised arm, but the arrow drove into her neck.
The woman dropped.
Anne didn't know what she expected death to sound like. On the mountain she had only seen demons die. For a moment, she was back there, looking over the bodies of people long dead. She had seen wounded, but no one dying.
Her hand was still on the arrow, blood gushing over it. The smell of it was swamping her. The woman had tried to twist to cut at Anne, but her sword arm was going limp. Her weapon dropped before she could get to her.
Something burbled in the Templar's throat, Anne could feel it rattling through the arrow into her hand. Anne felt herself drop next to her kill. Blood spattered over her face. The Templar had spit on her.
Her breathing was becoming ragged and harsh.
"Bitch," she whispered.
She drew one last gurgling breath, then her eyes glazed and her head dropped.
