Hey guys! Surprise I have with me Chapter 9! Ok, the reason I have it out so early is because the entirety of the chapter before was over 20 pages, so I decided it would be better to split it up, seeing as how I am still trying to finish all the edits in the new chapter 10! I hope you all enjoy as usual and I hope you tell me what you think of the chapter! I only own Ashila, as you all know BIOWARE gets the rest.
Chapter 9: The Hinterlands Burn Part 2.
The sounds of warblers and sparrows flitted in through the flaps of her tent. The life of the forest hummed around the sleeping pack that Ashila was dreaming in. The sounds of the wind flowing past the trees around the camp carried the chatter of the wood, and a great bellow of a bear echoed was carried out of her dreamings by the sounds of all the creatures that resided in the Hinterlands. She sighed, stretching her muscles till they were heated with a satisfying burn.
She lifted her arm over her eyes, the burning red of the early morning sun visible even through the tent cloth was painfully bright. Despite the minor sun, Ashila was feeling as well rested as ever. In the two weeks they had been in the Hinterlands, the sleep had come easier under the starry heavens. The life of the woods and the earth so close had always been a solace she could wrap herself in.
She believed that the wood- any wood- had a soul of it's own. This soul was made up by all the beings that lived in or who benefited from the wood. When the wood was hurt, the trouble would overflow onto those who needed the great forests. When she had arrived, it had been so hard to sleep because the wood howled it's pain in a neverending fever that had struck it thanks to the war. But now, the wood she woke too had been somewhat alleviated. The wounds it bore were still there, and would continue to need time to heal. But their decision to remain to assist in putting what little they could into fixing the problem now had strengthened the hope that things would return to some form of normality.
Ashila pulled back the flaps of her tent, eyes squinting from the morning sunlight. She lifted herself out, feet sinking slightly into the damp earth. Their encampment had been scorched by the fighting, grass black from the burns. But now baby sprouts had begun to appear, sensing that it was safe to grow again.
Their bright green blades brushed against the pads of Ashila's feet, drops of morning dew left on her skin as a reminder of their soft touch. She filled her lungs with the crisp morning air, basking in the warm rays of the sun.
Yes, the wood was thankful they had stayed. The feelings that surrounded her were all of gentle thanks, as were the villagers that the companions had begun to protect.
At first, the refugees watched them with astounded uncertainty. In awe of their titles and the simple fact the strange elven Herald they had heard so many stories about was here protecting them!
Now they greeted Ashila and her companions with warm smiles that were from ear to ear. Joyous they were whenever they stepped into town, their praise had been startling at first, causing Ashila to turn beet red and make herself as small as possible. Now she took their kindness with a bashful smile and quiet thanks (her face was always red still).
Ashila reached for her water skin and towels. She had a small ritual that she always began the day with, one which she fell into with ease. She woke up with the sun, at least an hour before Cassandra or Solas would rise (3 hours before Varric managed to stop snoring and roll out of bed), and then greet the scouts that were up from the graveyard watch. She would then bathe in the stream that ran down from the mountains, bringing glacier water that was always freezing and ready to wake her up with its chill.
It was to this very stream she was heading to at this from the wine in her skin as she nodded a silent hello to the scouts that sat upon the rock outcropping. They greeted her with "Mi'lady" and "Lady Herald", their tones weary and ready for their well-deserved sleep. They watched her till they were sure she would be safe on the path for her morning bathing.
Ashila had gone from a wild card to someone who was of worth in their eyes. She was skilled with her blades, and she used them with such finesse that they seemed to almost sing as they felled many foes. But she was also secretly kind. Her choice to remain in Hinterlands to assist in the relief effort, had a big impact on the moral. Many of the troops had family or a home in that area of Ferelden. Worries about the elf were beginning to disappear in the soldier's mind, especially with how much of herself she gave to their missions.
It was hard not to be rallied by her silent determination.
Ashila walked down the slope of the hill, gently pushing the branches of the firs that blocked off their hidden camp on the outcrop facing over the Crossing. Her damp feet takings careful steps to not alert her presence to any wildlife and disturb them. The rushing of water came softly to her wiggling ears, quickening her pace. The flowing river came into view as she rounded a tall oak tree.
The river was bright and glistening, the sun reflecting brightly off water as it rushed by. The temperature was cool, the touch of the early winter had not yet chilled the waters that were still warm from the autumn. Ashila undressed, folding her clothes and small clothes neatly in a pile on one of large rocks around her. She sipped at her wine once more to warm herself before wading slowly into the water. She hissed, the cool water making her body shiver as the wind blew over her damp skin.
She had brought with her a small vile. In it was pine oil that a woman in the Crossroads had begged her to take a few days ago- a sign of her gratitude. Ashila let her mind wander, humming absentmindedly and running her fingers through her hair to let the oil soak.
They had done much in their time here. In the first week they had been able to get supplies to the refugees to help them prepare for the winter. One of the first things she had seen to was the problem of getting good game while the Mages and Templar's fought. The first day alone she had dragged several fat Rams back to the lead hunter.
Once his face had lifted off the ground from his shock, he followed Ashila around for a good five minutes giving her thanks. The gratitude was so unexpected that the grateful hunter had Ashila tripping over in embarrassment, namely into Cassandra, who gave such a disapproving huff at the sight.
Ashila continued to reminisce about the weeks events. Closing her eyes, she submerged herself to rise her hair.
It was not that she didn't like their praise- it was a change she enjoyed. But it was also something that she had not seen much of in her life. Her clan had always kept her at arms length, pleased with her hunting abilities and fighting prowess, but she was a great concern to them always. The girl that was the Fen'Vhenan was not someone to be easily trusted.
Ashila breached the waters surface,brushing her soaking white hair from her face.
One of the few perks of this Inquisition business was the fact no one treated her like an outcast, she mused to herself. This was true- though many had regarded her petrified white hair and mismatched eyes with great shock and apprehension, they all took to her unusual appearance with a much better grace then her elvhen brethren ever did! The only one who could possibly know of the significance of her black and white eyes was Solas, but he treated her as an equal (though as a child, in some cases) and thus she assumed he was not bothered by her appearance.
Speaking of appearance… Ashila rubbed her Marked hand over the healing burn that lay on the left side of her chest and ribcage. She soaked the burn gently, and though it stung and smoldered angrily, she felt triumphant. A few days ago she had been scouting with Harding towards the Northeast of the Crossing. Though they had managed to procure the blankets Wittle had asked Ashila to find to distribute to the refugees, the spires of ice that marked the land they were in piqued their curiosity, driving them further into the wood.
There they had found the encampment of the rebel Mages, many of whom sported self inflicted gashes as they gave into the desire for Blood Magic to save themselves. The others looked weary and terrified, huddling together for solace in each other.
Thankfully, the two had not been spotted and raced back to the camp. Ashila rallied the men, telling them that in the evening they would march upon the Mages.
"Kill all that attack, but those who surrender, spare them. They did not want this madness to go this far." She had told them, earning silent approval from Varric and Solas.
They marched with a great speed, coming down upon the Mages with a fervor that even their fires could not overwhelm. Many of the ones she had seen huddled together surrendered to them immediately, wishing to be part of the fighting no more. The others, the ones already affected by Blood Magic, were not so compliant.
They had been victorious, and came away with only minor injuries. Ashila's had been a part of the worst ones, but Solas personally saw to her healing. It was in those quiet moments together Solas would relish in flustering Ashila with his comments on how she had been so quick to defend a young mage that would have been roasted alive if she had not stepped in.
"I do not mean to sound disapproving, Da'len." He said softly, his cool and calloused fingers gliding over the inflamed skin causing her to hiss. "I am quite astonished that you went to such lengths to protect our prisoners."
"You were right in the end, Haren. They did not want this," she replied, agitated, her burning skin distracting her. "When they saw the path they were headed down, they saw the madness, and wanted no part of it."
Solas had not said anything for a time, simply spreading a salve over her skin quietly.
"I should continue to expect many things out of you Da'len." He whispered, more to himself. "I have not been surprised by a youngling in many ages."
Ashila had heard his whispers, but said nothing, only flushing in the darkness as he saw to the rest of her burn.
After scrubbing herself clean of any dirt, Ashila waded back to the shore, glistening from the water that dripped off her. She thought her new lot in life was very unusual and life threatening- to say the least. But as she dried her hair and body, she had to admit that this change was not so bad. She bandaged up her small breasts, smiling to herself as she clothed herself in her rouge garments.
Yes, this was a nice change. Her companions were spirited and rough, but each held a private kindness that only came out when it was spurned. Cassandra's faith was like a rock, and she put the words of her religion into practice by seeking to help every refugee she could, as well as using herself as a defence for them. Varric used his tales to open their hearts, filling them with wonder and hope and removing any fears and doubts that dwelled.
And Solas: Solas surprised her the most. She should have not been so astounded- Solas had proven himself to be different than any other elf she knew. But in their time here she was able to see his wisdom and care little by little.
She knew he was a quiet elf, like herself. he was so mysterious, that whatever he said to anyone usually had a deeper meaning that could never be read in his eyes. But he did so many little things: some mornings he would venture out on his own, returning with so many herbs that the healers would be stocked till the end of the week, and he would sometimes assist in the healings of the soldiers who were ever fearful of this strange elvhen mage. He did so many small things and Ashila knew she had only scratched the surface of her elder. And for all his seriousness and knowledge, he was always so aloof, with that secretive smile he always had whenever their eyes met.
A blush rose to her face. She silently chastised herself as she put her lockpicks into place on her belt.
It was improper to have such thoughts towards an elder, especially one whom she would never truly know.
But his coy expressions always pulled her eyes, and his knowledge drew her in. Creators save her, what was she to do?
"To start, a little more wine." She said to herself, gulping down another mouthful of wine. If she was to deal with this infatuation to the beguiling elf, she would need a lot more wine to get through the day.
Fully clothed and hair still damp, she wrapped her marked hand in the leather glove she had picked up in the Crossroads. The sight of the Mark had always made her feel ill, and it only served as a reminder to how 'touched' she was.
As if she had nothing else to prove that point.
But this blemish could be hidden, unlike the others, and she did so with gusto, tying the glove on tightly to ensure it would not come off unless she willed it. Ashila hiked back into the wood, up the slope to return to her camp and her companions. She could hear Varric's snore from the base of the hill, which had been irritating at first and kept her from a full sleep and was now a comfort to her and helped her sleep. Rolling her eyes, Ashila passed Varric's tent (the snores now like horns), her eyes looking over the camp, assessing it. A few scouts were seated about a blazing fire that was in the center of the tents, smells of sausages and gruel wafting from a pan that made Ashila's stomach gurgle hopefully. They all appeared tired, but their eyes were bright and their expressions calm, no doubt relieved that the Hinterlands were slowly being rescued.
The tips of Solas' feet were visible through his tent flaps. The elder elf slept in when he could, his travels in the Fade probably more exciting than what they dealt with in the physical world, Ashila thought to herself glumly.
The bashing of steel against wood caught her attention. Looking up, Ashila saw Cassandra hacking at one of the wooden dummies that were set up for practice. Walking closer, she noticed that the dummy had many chunks hacked out of it, and Cassandra was very close to hacking its fake head off!
"You might need stronger dummies." She commended lightly, sitting on a rock to watch Cassandra.
She snorted in response, her sword never slowing as she continued to assault the poor dummy.
"You flatter me." she grunted, taking a bite out of the left side of her dummy's head.
Ashila chuckled softly.
"Maybe steel?" She offered, running her hands through her damp hair to get the knots out.
Cassandra was silent for a time. She lifted her sword high to strike, but instead slowly brought it back to her side.
"Did I do the right thing?" she questioned out loud. Ashila tilted her head to the side, curious as to what the Seeker was talking about. She was about to ask before Cassandra continued.
"What I have set in motion here could destroy everything I have revered my whole life."
Cassandra chuckled grimly, wiping the sheen from her brow.
"One day, they may write about me as a traitor, a mad woman, a fool! They may be right."
Ashila pondered her words, chewing the inside of her lip in thought.
"I do not think there was any other had no choice." she responded softly, looking off into the distance.
"Didn't I?" Cassandra asked, looking at Ashila and catching her eye.
Cassandra sighed. She sheathed her sword, walking over to Ashila's right side and standing beside the rock she sat on.
Cassandra chucked, reminiscing: "My trainers always told me: "Cassandra, you are too brash! You must think before you act."
Ashila could not help but imagine a much younger Cassandra, practicing her trademark huff as her trainers chastised her.
"I see what must be done, and I do it! I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing it's tail."
Ashila nodded, understanding Cassandra's point of view, Cassandra only wanted to do what needed to be done, and she could not hold it against her because she always tried to do the right thing, even when Ashila was on the sword end of it.
"But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought the answer was right before me, clear as day."
Ashila pursed her lips together, looking everywhere but to Cassandra's hard gaze in hopes she would not be offended that she completely agreed with what she had said.
Cassandra, seeing her pretending to not notice her, chuckled at her actions.
"Pretend as you do, I was wrong. I cannot afford to be so careless again."
Ashila fidgeted a moment before replying.
"Well, it wasn't like you had no reason to suspect me. I mean, let's face it: glowing hand that fits well with the giant gash in the sky. All that was missing was the horns of declaration that I was guilty."
Cassandra rolled her eyes, snorting. She then looked at Ashila, mulling over a thought.
"You have made it obvious that you do not believe you are chosen. Does that mean… you do not believe in the Maker?"
Ashila grimaced slightly. Talk of religion was never a topic that stayed on a smooth course, often opting for more turbulent waters. She chose her words carefully, not wishing to anger the bull that could be the Seekers anger.
"I know of your religion, I have read on it somewhat. And no I do not believe, I would say to some that I believe in the Elvhen God's, but even now I am very doubtful of them." Ashila could not stop the dark chuckle, "Anything concerning them have only brought me misery.
"So you believe in nothing?" Cassandra stated, forcing Ashila to keep a groan down.
"I believe in my own ability to keep myself alive." she said simply. Ashila left out that she believed that Cassandra and her cause should not believe in her. She never was good at keeping people safe, and if Cassandra heard her say that she could very well be her new dummy for practice!
Cassandra did not approve of Ashila's answer, for she could never think to live a life where she could not rely on her God. But she did not choose to use her for sword practice, instead conversing with her like a normal person.
"Well, I have to believe we were put on this path for a reason, even if you do not."
Ashila smiled to Cassandra, relieved that the conversation remained light and did not hurt any feelings.
"If it means anything to you, I am happy to have your belief." She said softly, her mismatched eyes shining with quiet thanks.
Cassandra grunted awkwardly in response. Pushing Ashila off the rock she nodded towards the group of scouts.
"I heard talk of a letter coming to you from the Commander. Go see what he wishes of us and I will wake our comrades."
Ashila groaned.
"Creators, what does he want this time!" she exclaimed. Waving to Cassandra, she made her way to the scouts main tent.
The last time Cullen had written to her personally, it had been about four days after her decision to stay in the Crossroads and send Mother Giselle ahead to Haven.
One of Leliana's black ravens had come bearing a letter, sealed in wax with a lions head, maw open in the dark red of the wax. Harding had given it to her, the raven still resting on her shoulder from the flight.
When she had opened it, she had only expected a debriefing of what was happening in Haven, but instead she got a chastising letter filled with, diminutive descriptions of how she was not to stray so far from the plans set by the advisers (all told in sugar coated niceties to lessen the blow.)
He speaks to me as if I am a child to him! she realized, outraged.
This was not the case, however. When Cullen had finally found enough time in his schedule to even write the letter, the sky was black in deep night, and he was weary and irritable from the days training's. One lad had it in his mind to speak back to him when he assigned the mornings drills. That boy then succeeded in receiving Manure Duty for the stables and human wastes for the foreseeable future.
Another before dinner managed to receive a blow to the head so hard that it crumpled his helmet, tightening to his head so finely that the Blacksmith had to break it open and manage to not cave the boys head in.
He had miss dinner, as much of the food in Haven was short in stock and there was not much to even go around, and so he was mad with hunger and simply wanted to go to bed to get this blasted day over with!
So when he wrote to the Herald, he did not write in the mindset of this unusual woman whose peculiar eyes always seemed to hold his a moment longer, bemusing and stupefying him.
No, he instead wrote to her as another blasted trainee that got another simple job wrong and he needed to list out exactly what he needed them to do. And he was not in the least bit sympathetic.
So, when the black raven flew into his open window one morning a few days later, and he took the letter, surprised at the note and suddenly very awake when he saw it was from The Herlad (her writing was very hard to read, as if she did not write much). He opened it hastily, his sleepiness forgotten.
His face was priceless. It was slack from still waking up, but it dropped even more as he deciphered the Heralds terrible chicken scratch writing as she wrote to him to 'stuff his orders' and to 'accept the fact that this will be how she runs her missions.'
If you do not approve of my decisions, then you may tell me in which case I can tell you to piss off!
When he had been able to translate and read the letter several times, Cullen leaped from the bed and nearly fell out of his bunk into the study below in an effort to get to a spare bit of parchment. The small letter was filled to the brim with apologies, begging Ashila to forgive him for not realizing how he was writing.
From then on, any letters she received were very polite in their tone, requesting her to consider some choices while they were in the Hinterlands instead of ordering her.
This letter was no different, Cullen now taking great care whenever he wrote to Ashila.
Today the letter she received was one of opportunity, one that the Inquisition sorely needed:
I hope this letter finds you well, Lady Herald.
We have been seeing a great rise in troop recruitment, specifically coming out of the Hinterlands. I suspect this might have something to do with whatever you are meddling with down there. (he sometimes could never resist making a small jab, it was how he write. But Ashila found it silly, chuckling at his sarcasm.)
It only means more mouths to feed, I fear, some don't know their own ass from their head. (that got a laugh out of her)
Besides that, I am writing to inform you of a possible recruitment option that has just been discovered. We had believed Master Dennet, the Horsemaster to the King of Ferelen, has been located, alive. If we were able to convince him of the Inquisitions cause and possibly have some of his horses (or him, preferably), it would mean a great bolster in our army as well as overall boost in morale. Many of these boys are from those lands, and knowing they were on the backs of their best horses would help.\
Unfortunately, the scouts believe that the rebel Templar camp is between you and Dennet's lands, and are even threatening him. Stop the Templars and show Dennet we mean business, get him on our side and we could begin to make strides for the Inquisition.
As always, be careful out there, Lady Herald.
Commander Cullen
Ashila rolled the letter up carefully, letting her fingertips rest on the broken lion insignia. The Commander was correct, having a horse master would do wonders for the men, especially if it was one that was the legend of Fereldens calvary. The Templars had also been something she was preparing to march on. Their encampment had been easy to find- the busted bridge over the river (that lead to Dennet's land, apparently) had been where they were held up. The rain of arrows they had let loose from their position had Ashila and the group backing up, and had been something they were preparing to march on.
Now that it was as simple as killing two birds with one stone, Ashila knew exactly what her team was doing today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(())~~~~~~~~~~
Ashila leaned back against the tree, breathing heavily and brushing her bangs from her face and flipping her braid over her shoulder. She watched Varric examining his bolts that had been protruding from the dead templars, debating if they were usable. A loud squishing sound was heard. Ashila looked to her left, her face contorting into one of revulsion as Cassandra dislodged her sword from the dead mans chest.
"That is revolting." she stated loudly, surprising her companions. Ashila never spoke more than soft octave, so the regular volume of her alto soft voice was a new sound as opposed to her cries on the battlefield. Cassandra gave her a 'What are you even talking about, you mad elf?' look.
Varric was the first to recover. Chuckling, he ripped a bolt from a mans eye socket, tossing it away as it broken with a hairline fracture.
"Death is not supposed to be a pretty thing, Glow. I thought you knew this being a Rogue!"
Ashila gave the dwarf a deadpanned look.
"There a nicer ways to cut up a body, Varric." she sighed.
"Never the less, there is more than one way's to skin a cat!"
The entire conversation could be perceived as probably barbaric, and possibly insane. Ashila knew that people would not understand the precision it took to get so close, intimate even, with a target and take their life while fitting to them. It was a dance that only other rogues could understand.
And it was the only time Ashila did not strip or stumble over anything.
"While we do not have the poise our leader has, we can only strive to match her in what barbaric ways we can, I'm afraid." Solas said, his voice rich with laughter as he poked fun at the younger elf.
Ashila turned away to empty a dead warriors pockets, muttering softly, but hearing the light chuckle on the wind coming from the elder elf made her turn, giving Solas a mock glare to which he shook his head, his smile small and light.
Solas walked past and Ashila let her eyes follow his back a moment longer before standing.
"Let's leave them for the bears." she said to the others, "Dennets land should not be much farther."
They walked an hour longer into the forest before coming upon a large meadow area Over the hills, the tips of chimneys could be seen, black smoke billowing from their openings.
Ashila turned to her companions, a small grin on her face to get the scouts in to set up camp, when she saw movement off to her left behind Solas. Cassandra and Varric had walked past, unknowing to her change in attitude as they scouted ahead for signs of trouble.
A pack of black wolves, wild and with eerie yellow-green eyes that were boring into hers, stilling her heart and causing her face to drop in shock.
Solas watched the young elf's expression drop like a stone into a pond. He turned swiftly, slightly raising his staff in preparation for an attack.
When he saw the wolves, his eyes narrowed.
These animals had been possessed, that much could be determined by their fiendish eyes. But dealing with wolves should be a simple matter, especially for one with Ashila's competency. Never the less, her emotions had been let loose from her careful guard, her fear was palpable to the senses.
He breathed sharply out his pointed nose, eyes boring into the ones of the Alpha.
The Alpha's chest puffed up, trying to match it's will to Solas'. Moments later, however, it's ears were cast downward and he turned, sulking off with his pack into the forest. Solas turned back to Ashila, only to see her walls had been reconstructed, her face passive and unrevealing of the emotions that had been playing on her face moments ago.
She met his eyes. Her peculiar eyes did their best to appear indifferent to the wolves, but he could see the veiled turmoil. Before he could make a comment, she turned quickly, white hair floating softly in her wake as she jogged ahead, waving her hand behind for him to follow.
Solas frowned. When there was time he would speak to her on the subject. It was the second chip in her carefully built demeanor that he was able to peek through to see the elf. He was curious of her puzzle.
Ashila, rushing ahead, took note of the state of Dennet's land, looking for anything to take her mind of the sickly yellow eyes.
The farm was still filled with vegetables and wheat, all ready for harvest for winter. But there was no one around to start the harvest. The animals were wandering about out of their pens with no one to watch over them, and what people were there had enough on their plate already! They ran about, flailing and squabbling much like the chickens they chased. They looked tired and worn and in obvious need of some TLC.
Ashila sighed. "Good thing we came." Cassandra looked back to her and nodded.
"We should see what we can do for the Horse Master. Perhaps after we have helped him, he will in turn help us."
Ashila nodded at Cassandra's words and started forward, the other three following close behind.
Dennet had been cautious to say the least when Ashila and her crew appeared on his door step. Dennet, as all Fereldens were, towered over her like a giant, even had a few good inches on Cassandra and Solas! He was not as large as most were, having a leaner build, and his skin was dark from labor in the sun and from it's natural tone, but his beard was as bushy and wild as the best.
He had them stand before him (much like a father would line up his children to scare them into telling what they did). Dennet eyed each person in turn, eyes lingering on Ashila's eyes and hair for only a moment, never letting his surprise (if he was even) come to the surface.
"So, you're the Inquisition, eh?" He stated gruffly, leaning against the back of his cupboard. Ashila could not tell if the man considered them a trouble, or a grace, and the indifference he exuded was so offsetting it was making Ashila's fingers twitch.
"Hear you're trying to bring order back. It's high time someone did. Didn't expect it to be one of you elves though." Ashila let out the breath she had been instinctively holding while the air in the room lightened considerably.
"With something as far reaching as the Breach is, Ser, it is up to all of us who live on this earth to do something." Ashila responded politely and inclined her head towards the Horse Master. "I am Ashila."
Dennet nodded back. "Name's Dennet. I served Arl Eamon for thirty years as Horse Master. I hear your Inquisition is looking for mounts."
Ashila nodded, hoping that she could do as Cullen hoped and bag more than just some mounts for their cause.
"Ay, Ser, we are in need of some fine you help us."
Dennet shrugged. "Not at the moment."
Ashila blinked, her brain processing his answer. He had heard good things about their cause, he approved of them as people, and he yet he refused?
Could it have been because she was an elf? Ashila blinked as the thought smacked her. Dennet did not seem like the type to discriminate, but if he was, it was an outrageous thing to hold against the Inquisition because she happened to be the one to meet with him!
"May I ask why?" she asked, her voice increasing only slightly as a sign of her irritation. Solas must have noticed, for he shifted at her side, the end of his staff nudging her heel.
"Well I simply can't send a hundred of the finest horses in Ferelden down the road like you'd send a letter. Every bandet between here and Haven would be on them like flies on crap." Dennet's beard twitched as he considered a moment.
"You can have 'em once I know they won't end up as a cold winters breakfast."
Ashila stared back at Dennet, refusing to look away and falter under his judgement. She mulled his offer over: they needed the mounts, and it would mean equivalent exchange if they could do something for him to win his trust for his help. Plus, this could be the chance to get him to hop on with the Inquisition.
"What do we need to do?" Ashila asked calmly, her eyes bright with need to prove her commitment to the task.
Dennet's eyes lit up, pleased.
"Those damn bastards that are hold up at the river-"
"Already taken care of." Ashila said smugly.
Dennet merely raised his thick brows at her response before continuing.
"There is also the matter of being able to spot future attacks. Those rogue Templars we were able to fend off this day, but next time? If we had scouting tower to spot any coming attacks we could be better prepared, as could the Crossroads."
Ashila nodded. Though the Inquisition had little resources, they had enough to ensure proper watch towers could be built, that would only take a fortnight at least.
"Agreed. Anything else?"
"There is the matter of the wolves. I'm sure you have seen them."
Ashila felt her stomach do an unpleasant somersault that left her feeling nauseous.
It just had to be that.
Ooooo what is going to happen in the wolf cave, I wonder (I don't really). It'll be a (hopefully) good one-on-one with Ashila and Solace (do I see embers of interest beginning?!)
Stay tuned for next Saturday!