She had defiantly felt different when Haven was attacked. It was like a shifting of gears in Varric's crossbow, she felt like herself but different somehow. Like another person inhabited the same body and said and done all the actions as she had.

Even after Haven, when she only blindly followed the sound of her whistle through the cutting wind, she felt a presence unlike her own and Dazai's that lingered in her mind and then acted again when giving the Inquisition their orders. She realized on some subconscious level that it must have been the only force keeping her alive.

The presence, when the sun had dawned on the fifth day since the attack at Haven after she had given some of her blood to Krem, fled, leaving her very woozy and incredibly nauseous.

She had asked Dazai if he had done anything to her during the attack on Haven but he had replied with,

No, that wasn't me. But I can't say any more, I just can't.

He clammed up after that and would not speak to her for hours on end during the trek to Skyhold, and that was highly frustrating because no one else would talk to her without first adverting their eyes and mumbling, 'Your Worship'. And none of them said it the way Krem did; it just sounded stale coming from their mouths.

She could feel the link between her and her hawk wax and wane with distance, and she could also feel whenever a tasty mouse appeared in the bird's line of vision, making her even more prone to heaving up the contents of her stomach.

She couldn't feel how far Krem was, or what he was feeling, that wasn't the goal of the connection. But sometimes she wished she had established an empathy link too.

Adalyn shook her head to clear her thoughts, she had to focus on the people she was responsible for the meantime.

The survivors had worked really hard to hunt for fresh game and edible plants, roots, and berries to help sustain everyone's health, and she felt guilty every time she came close to or actually regurgitated their hard-won food over nothing but her own nerves and a bad menstrual cycle.

She tried to keep communication between her and Krem minimal, hoping that he would not regret the mind connection they now shared.

She checked in with him every evening and every morning, receiving news of Josephine and her diplomats as well as reports on the wounded soldiers' health. He would never mention them, but she would always ask after the Chargers. He would say they all were fine, and thank her for asking. Then they would cut off the connection.

She hoped that they found Redcliffe soon and that Solas was right that she wasn't leading all these men and women to their deaths.

They had already had to burn the bodies of two scouts and three soldiers, everyone's outlook was becoming grimmer by the day, and yet they still looked to her for direction.

She often felt lost herself, like she was sinking down under icy waves in a storm-tossed sea. How could she help them when even she didn't know where to go? She shared her innermost fears with no one.

Her breaking point came the day she first laid eyes on Skyhold.

Solas had lead her up a rocky incline to gaze at it from the other side of a mountain. They spoke with the scouts and discovered there was no way down to the path that lead there other than a cave tunnel with a gentle downwards slope that went directly through the mountain.

She gave the order to go through, mages leading with their magical lights along with the scouts, and torch-bearers sprinkled with the rest of the line behind.

It was a slow and dark journey that Sera and Varric complained smelled of dank and nug shit.

The wind wasn't howling through the tunnel, and the troops were less cold, Adalyn counted her blessings when she could.

Things seemed to be blissfully uneventful until their beast of burden, a wild nugalope, stepped down on a stalagmite, impaling its foot and sending out an unearthly shriek.

The sudden jarring noise and the smell of fresh blood caused Adalyn to finally break her calm façade.

She had to get out.

She stumbled and ran out of the last length of the tunnel and collapsed on a windy outcrop of rock by the exit of the tunnel.

She threw up and lost the energy to do anything more but sit up and rest her back against the wall. Tears welled up and spilled over, fogging up her vision and choking her breath.

She was already dehydrated; the tears would make it worse. She didn't care.

She needed to hear someone talk, anyone. Of anything but this. And Dazai wasn't talking to her at all these days, so she reached out to someone else.

Krem.

An immediate response came,

Adalyn. You sound … what's wrong?

He could tell, of course he could tell. And this also was the first time in days he hadn't called her 'Your Worship'.

Nothing. It's just, I'm feeling overwhelmed by what these people need of me—I don't…

She struggled to pull herself together, her lips quivered involuntarily and she dug through her pack to pull out the only piece of fabric blood had not touched that was on her person at Haven; the handkerchief.

She blew her nose in it and used the edges to wipe her tears away.

What can I do to help?

Krem asked gently.

Adalyn curled closer to the wall and swallowed mucus and bile down.

Tell me something good.

Anything?

He inquired.

Anything.

She parroted, waiting in the pause that followed for the sound of his voice: her current lifeline.

The Chief and I were in Val Royeaux for a job a year back or so. Nothing special, just looking tough for some Orlisian noble at a dinner party. We were off in the morning and early afternoon to do as we pleased in the city. Well, the rest of the Chargers scattered like rats, but Bull and I stuck together and found this candied nut seller… Bull was curious, so he got a bag of them and shared them with me. Sat on a bench, eating, and then from out of nowhere; squirrels!

Adalyn giggled wetly into the kerchief and felt her heart become a little lighter.

What did the squirrels do?

She asked.

They ran up Chief's horns and stayed there even as he tried to shake 'em off. They looked like little furry flags waving in the wind, and I thought it was pretty funny. At least until I took one to the face.

Oh, you did not.

She laughed out loud, picturing the airborne squirrels and sent her customary snort through her thoughts to Krem, who opted to continue elaborating.

I did too! I've got a scar from that squirrel.

No. The one on your eyebrow?

She asked unbelievingly.

No. Not that one. The squirrel gave me a thin long scratch on the side of my head as it sprung off.

The next time I catch a girl mooning over you and calling your scars dashing I will know that the better half of them are probably from squirrels.

Adalyn teased.

The red-tailed hawk spotted a squirrel in real-time and sent a helpful view of what it saw to contribute to the conversation.

On that note, I think it would be best if we said goodbye for today. Thank you, Krem.

There was a beat of silence in her head and she felt like he wanted to say something important, but he too said,

Good night to you, Your Worship. Until tomorrow.

Until tomorrow.

She echoed, and felt the connection cut off.

"Herald?"

She turned quickly to find Cassandra staring at her, looking slightly flustered to see her in a state of disarray.

She was about to stand when Cassandra knelt beside her and put a caring hand on hers,

"We—we are all here for you, you know." She said carefully, seeming to struggle with what words to say.

"Of course. And thank you." Adalyn said through a gritted smile,

"What happened to the nugalope?" She queried.

Cassandra let go of her hand and glanced back at the tunnel.

"We were forced to put it out of its misery. The wound was too detrimental to time and the burden it was pulling was dismantled and sorted into what we can take and what we can leave."

Adalyn nodded and held out a hand, "A little help standing up?"

Cassandra obliged, standing first and then helping her to her feet. As they walked back to the tunnel to see the rest of the Inquisition through the last couple feet of cave, Cassandra spoke again.

"You have been holding together very well, the soldiers needed that." She looked at her with respect, a look she was not used to receiving.

"But if you need anyone to lean on, do not hesitate to ask Cullen, Lilliana, or myself. We are here for you, Herald."

Her offer was heartwarming, but she had no more need at the moment for moral support. She needed to get these people to Skyhold before sundown.

She could do this.