Mother Giselle had the people at the cross roads bring us water and a slice of stale bread each. It wasn't much but I appreciated it nonetheless. These people could barely spare a crumb and here they were feeding us what little they had.

"Ma serranas." I thanked the elven woman who brought us food and she seemed slightly disturbed. Perhaps like many humans she too was distrustful of the Dalish. Strange though, she had more in common with us than the shems. I tried not to glare at her as she walked away. It was simply ignorance.
They do not know how far they have fallen, came the unbidden thought and I was shocked at myself because for some reason... 'They' included my people. Gods, maybe I was possessed. I scoffed to myself at the notion, earning a few odd looks from the scouts. If not possessed then certainly mad.

There were a few skirmishes throughout the night, a few stray mages wandering too close, an ambush here and there, but the patrol of Templars in the early hours of the morning was the tricky one. We were all exhausted, having marched all day and fought all night, we were bound to be slow. It was as the sun came up over the trees that they appeared. Fifteen of them. My stomach sank but more in annoyance than Dread.
They fell upon us and we kept our formation. Archers at the back, blades in front and we took down a good few but, silly me I don't have eyes on the back of my head. The others were fine, I made sure. Our archers were still firing and our blades were still slashing between their targets but one of the scouts had left their back open and one of the bastards was charging straight for them.

"Fenedhis!" I hissed as I charged, magic swelling in my hands and with a sweep, flame engulfed him.

"Thanks! I owe you one!" The scout called but it was then I heard the hurried and precise footsteps behind me. I turned and there suddenly a templar rogue appeared, daggers high in the air, ready to impale me. Instincts took over and I went to tumble to my left, but the bastard was obviously a worthy opponent and turned his downward strike to a swipe. I felt the searing burn scrape along my shoulder and I let out a loud curse. Magic flew off me, stray flames and lighting surrounded me like a barrier as I scrambled to my feet. I was angry now. Angry for being stupid, for not seeing him coming and angry and the Herald for not being here to protect these people. The rogue disappeared again and I stood my guard, trying to ignore the pain and the uncomfortable blend of blood and sweat running down my back. I closed my eyes, listening carefully and focussing on the sound of his footsteps coming closer until I could pinpoint exactly where he was.
My eyes shot open and my mind draws a blank until I can feel his blood running running over my hand with one of my arrows firmly embedded in his neck. I let him fall to the ground and stand back, panting heavily. The sun is now over the trees and I can see the extent of the destruction these people faced. I let out wavering sigh as I wiped my bloodied hands on a cloth handed to me by one of the scouts. I thank them and use it to hold over my wound. I don't think it's very deep and if I get it wrapped it should stop bleeding. Mother Giselle does this for me and I thank her.

"We were never here." I say, but my voice sound muffled. She winks, yes, winks at me and replies, "Of course." Before we finally set off back to the camp.

Harding is there waiting for us, a frown fixed firmly on her face. She berates me but I calmly explain to her why were held up, two of the scouts even back me up and I smile at them. Still everyone sounds blurred. She tells me to get cleaned up, that the Herald will be awake soon, so I quickly scrub my face and any obvious blood and grim from my clothes. Its not perfect but it will do. I send the Crow off with a quick note explaining the nights escapades, hoping it will be enough and settle into my bedroll beside the now dead fire. The other four are still fast asleep, but I can't seem to do the same. The sun is too bright now and I would have to get moving again at any minute. So I stare at the sky and try to ignore the darkening edges around my vision.
Cassandra is the first to rise, not ten minutes after I settle. She then wakes the Herald, whose loud and over the top yawn wakes Solas. I pretend to also be awakened, stretching but immediately regretting it as I remember my open wound. I hide my hiss of pain in a yawn, but I don't miss Solas' obvious look of shock when he sees me.

"How was your hunt?" He asks me over his bowl of porridge. It's heavy and tasteless and I cannot bring myself to eat it, I feel drunk and the world is going my like a dream.

"Hmm?" I say lazily looking up.

"Harding said you were hunting last night." He supplied. I made an 'oh' shape with my mouth and shrugged.

"Fruitless." I answer simply.

"You look tired." He says bluntly and the suspicion is clear in his voice.

"I was out most of the night, I didn't realise the time."

"That was unwise."

"Perhaps."

After that he remains silent but I can feel his eyes on me the whole way back to the crossroads. We walk slowly and by the time we get there, what with actually using the roads, it's nearly noon. The blighted sun bares down onto the top of my head and the whole landscape turns sharp and painful to look at. And all the while my shoulder feels numb. Varric settles himself by a stone wall while Cassandra and Trevelyan greet Mother Giselle but the glaring heat of the sun and throbbing in my head and numbness of my shoulder are too much and I find myself making for the tree line. I stumble, once and twice which forces me to my knees. I hoped I made it far enough so I go unseen, but I can't seem to bring myself to care any longer. My breathing feels wet and sticky and my ears ring as I lurch and I vomit onto the leafy floor. To spare you the gruesome details, it wasn't good. At least, I know for a fact, vomiting blood is never good. This wasn't right. My wound wasn't deep, I'm fairly certain Mother Giselle's bandaging had stopped the bleeding completely. Unless... Unless the bastard's blade was poisoned.

"Shit, shit shit." I chanted, as I lurched again. The sweat was pouring off me and all I could think about was this was what dying felt like. I was going to die and all because I didn't take an antidote after I was wounded. Such a stupid bloody mistake. And what a way to go to! Choking on your own bloody upchuck! Well done Nev, how very dignified! I could feel darkness ebbing its way into my vision as my throat burned and my lungs begged for air but there was no relenting. I almost gave myself up to it. Almost let the sweet embrace of death pull me away from this horrible suffocating darkness. Almost.

"Atisha, Dhalen, hanin." I heard a soft lilting voice beside me and a kind hand rub my back. "You are wounded." It was Solas and his soft voice somewhat brought me round.
I then felt a soothing coolness flow through me. It quelled my stomach and stopped the throbbing in my head, calming my rushing heart with its tranquil air and pulled me back to reality. I sat myself up against a tree and shut my eyes, willing my breathing calm again.

"Thank you." I sighed heavily, cracking open one eyelid. He sat on his haunches in front of me, his eyes looking over me curiously. I had in fact made it to the treeline, the forest around us was quiet and still and I could only hear distant crowds from the crossroads.

"I presume that your were not in fact hunting last night." He said with a small smile.

I tried to laugh but I was still feeling uneasy. "What gave it away."

He sighed and looked me over one more time, "The blood on your clothes, the open wound, the fact that I saw you disappearing with several of the Inquisitions scouts. Need I go on?" His tone was almost scolding, but there was a sort of fondness to it as well.

"We needed to clear the crossroads. The people wouldn't have lasted the night. I was tired and getting sloppy, I didn't see the templar."

"The blade was poisoned." He stated though it sounded more like he was finishing my thought. I nodded and sighed, thankful that I'd steadied my lungs again.
"You should not have gone alone." He berated.

"I wasn't alone."

"Forgive me, I forgot about your army of eight spies. I meant why did you not inform the Herald? Surely she would've seen the reason in your plan."

"She's made her decision, Leliana said we should not undermine her authority." I said, between breaths.

"Giving advice is not the same as insubordination. Only tyrants see good council as an undermining of their authority." His voice was so enchanting. The way it lilted up in down, the way the breeze rustled the trees and the way the distant charter of the crossroads echoed through the valley, it nearly put me to sleep.
"You should go back to the camp and rest, Dhalen."

"Why do you call me that?" I asked him sharply, for some reason his pet name grated on me, especially in the mood I was in.

He looked surprised. "Forgive me, I did not realise it caused you offense."

"That's not an answer, old man." I said smartly and a frown furrowed his brow.

"That's hardly fair. I am not so much older than you." He said, though I'm certain that he almost tripped over his words.

"Then why call me a child."

That stumped him and I saw his eyes drift over me this time, not so much studying as... Simply looking.
"Simply because it annoys you Dhalen." He smiled and stood up before I could even begin to rant at him. I sat there for a moment longer, half of me still recovering, the other almost reeling in shock at the mischievous glint in his eye. That was new. Who knew that the grumpy old elf had a sense of humour? I found myself smiling and quickly stopped it, for some reason it was not something I should be smiling about. We were acquaintances, nothing more. Not that that stopped me from thinking about his slight smirk or the dimple on his chin. Fen'harels perky arse, this was going to get me in trouble.