"Who's this?" Wulfric asked, dropping his arms from Fergus's shoulders after several long moments and stepping back to look down at the woman in his brother's arms.

Fergus glanced down at Jennie's pale face with concern as Morrigan, human again, moved toward him purposefully.

"Bring her in here," she said, gesturing to the mouth of the cave.

Fergus followed, laying Jennie down on a pallet of furs set near a fire pit. The cave was fairly well lit with what appeared to be homemade candles, but it was a much farther way from Highever Castle than Fergus had ever imagined. He didn't like to think of himself as a snob, but seeing the way his brother was living horrified him. A glance at Wulfric's face told him that his little brother had read his thoughts, and was amused by them. At least he wasn't offended, Fergus thought.

Morrigan was deep in the cave, and Fergus could hear rustling sounds as she looked for the ingredients she needed. He stood next to Wulfric, feeling helpless.

"Who is she?" Wulfric asked again, his eyes on Jennie.

"The Champion of Kirkwall." At his brother's blank look, it occurred to Fergus how completely outside of the world Wulfric lived.

"Kirkwall," Wulfric said, thinking back. "The Free Marches, right?" He shook his head, chuckling a little. "I haven't thought of the places of Thedas for a long time." The little boy butted his head up against Wulfric's thigh. Dropping his hand to ruffle the boy's dark hair, Wulfric said, "I'd forgotten you two haven't met. Arthur, this is your uncle Fergus. Fergus, this is Arthur."

In the long trek here, Fergus had not thought that the boy would be ... a boy. He had thought baby, baby, until the idea of an infant had embedded itself firmly in his mind. To see his brother now, with his wife, his small child—Fergus swallowed against the lump in his throat. He would not envy his brother what he had wrested from the midst of a Blight, not even when it was such a vivid reminder of what that Blight had cost Fergus. "Arthur," he said, clearing his throat. "It's nice to meet you."

"And you, ser." The child dipped his head in a genteel acknowledgment that was pure Eleanor Cousland. It might have brought back further painful memories if it hadn't been so amusing that here in this wilderness, manners were the teaching of their mother's that Wulfric chose to pass on.

Fergus returned the gesture gravely. He saw no sign of an old god hidden in the little boy's eyes. He appeared no different from any small boy of four or five. A bit of baby pudge still clung to him about the waist, but the limbs were long and slim and he held himself like an older child.

Here was a grandson Bryce and Eleanor Cousland would have been proud of. But hidden out here, far from the rest of the world, he was hardly the heir the Teyrnir needed. If that was what Fergus had been looking for, some indication that the succession was secured in the person of Wulfric's child, he had not found it. He couldn't hide from his destiny any longer—he needed to marry, to find someone with whom he could build the kind of family that would make the rebuilt walls of Highever Castle ring with the laughter of his childhood.

A faint moan from the pallet of furs brought his eyes and his thoughts back to Jennie. He couldn't deny that he felt an attraction to her—he was drawn to the strength in her thin body and the vulnerability in her wide eyes. She was the first woman since the Blight to arouse him without at the same time bringing back thoughts of Oriana. Compared to Jennie's real, living face, the cherished memory of his wife's features was faded now, drifted away into the background. But was it love that he felt, or the longing for companionship? Was he considering some kind of a future with Jennie? He simply wasn't sure.

Morrigan had ground a paste from the ingredients she'd collected. She took some of it on her fingers and dipped them into Jennie's mouth. A fit of coughing and spluttering followed; Fergus could only hope some of the paste had actually been swallowed in the process.

"So, this Champion," Wulfric said, trying again to get at the whys and wherefores of his brother showing up with an unconscious woman in his arms. "What did she do? Marry the Viscount?"

"Hardly. It's possible she was indirectly responsible for the Viscount's death."

"Huh. And they acclaimed her for that?"

"No, apparently they acclaimed her for defeating a Qunari Arishok in single combat."

Wulfric stared at Jennie, pale and slender on the pile of furs, then turned back to Fergus. "Unless they're making Arishoks differently these days, I think someone's told you a big story."

Fergus laughed. "Many of them, actually. Wait until you meet Varric. Jennie's companion," he added when Wulfric frowned in confusion. "He's a dwarf with a penchant for tales that compensate for his lack of height." He looked back at Jennie, who was stirring uncomfortably, but the color was back in her face. "Jennie has hinted that there was more to the combat with the Arishok than is commonly known, but I haven't heard her version yet. Varric's version has her shooting an arrow directly in the Arishok's eye while being spitted on his giant sword."

"That sounds unlikely."

"It does, rather."

"So you came with ..."

"Jennie."

"You came here with Jennie, and this dwarf, Varric. Anyone else?"

Fergus grinned. It was nice to see some curiosity in Wulfric's eyes—it made him seem more like Fergus's little brother and less like some wild man of the mountains. "A few familiar names," he said. "Zev."

A delighted smile spread across Wulfric's face. "The Crows haven't caught up to him yet?"

"The way I understand it, he caught up to the Crows."

"I'd have liked to have seen that." There was a wistfulness in Wulfric's voice, and Morrigan paused in her ministrations to cast a glance full of sympathy and love at Wulfric. That glance went a long way toward reconciling Fergus to the drastic changes in his brother's life. "Anyone else?"

"I somehow got talked into letting Oghren come along." Both brothers chuckled, although Fergus's trailed off at the memory of Oghren lying subdued in a cocoon of spider's webbing. "And Jennie's companions included a couple of familiar faces, as well. Do you remember Isabela?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes, standing up and stretching her back. Jennie was breathing more easily now, Fergus was relieved to see. "What, pray tell, does that dockside strumpet do in Kirkwall?"

"Helps Jennie out, apparently. They're some kind of mercenary team."

"Mercenaries?" Wulfric frowned. "Fergus, what type of people have you brought out here? We have no coin for them to grasp after."

"Most of them seem to have come because they care about you, little brother. I've agreed to pay Jennie and her companions, that's true, but they're good people. Give them a chance before you get on your high horse." Fergus walked away from his brother, moving to Jennie's side and kneeling next to her. He put a gentle hand out and laid it on her forehead, relieved to feel that it was cooler already.

Morrigan said, "She will awaken shortly; meanwhile we should consider what to do about your companions. It is not safe to leave them out in the jungle for long, but you can see why it would be impractical to bring them all here."

"Not to mention unsafe," Wulfric added, with a significant glance at the little boy, who had stood unnaturally still and silent all this time.

Fergus twisted around, looking at his brother over his shoulder. "Speaking of unsafe ... the Grey Wardens followed us here."

"Which Wardens?"

"The only ones still alive when we left were Jennie's sister, a mage named Bethany, and a Dalish archer whose name I don't know."

"Thrand, I suspect," Wulfric said. "Dangerous; he's very persuasive."

"Like Leliana?" Fergus asked, wincing at how easily he had allowed her voice and manner to work on him.

"Where did you meet Leliana?"

"You did not tell me that you had spoken with her," Morrigan said, her eyes flashing as she moved to Wulfric's side.

"It was in Val Royeaux, where we stopped to look at the maps." Fergus frowned. "It didn't seem relevant."

"No doubt it isn't," Wulfric said, his eyes lighting with humor as he put his arm around Morrigan and nuzzled her cheek. She tried to keep up a pretense of annoyance at the physical affection displayed before Fergus, little more than a stranger to her, but it faded as Wulfric pressed kisses along her jaw.

Fergus turned his eyes away, looking down at Jennie. He was overjoyed to see her eyes flutter. "Jennie."

She blinked determinedly, pushing at his hand and sitting up. What a contrast to Morrigan's actions, he thought, his heart sinking. Then he chided himself for the feeling. What had he expected, that she would open her eyes and avow some previously unknown affection for him? It seemed that was exactly what he wanted—for her to feel the same rush of relief and affection on seeing him that he had when it was clear she had awakened. Perhaps his feelings went deeper than he had realized.

He stood up, holding out a hand to her to help her stand, pushing away the possible meanings of his discovery to be considered later. "Are you all right?"

Jennie nodded, but when he would have let her hand go she tightened her grip, clinging to him. "Where are we?" she asked.

Fergus followed her gaze, unconsciously tensing for the first moment she saw Wulfric. The younger man topped Fergus's height by a head, and had always been ostentatiously muscular of build. Fergus had never particularly doubted his own attractions for women, but it was true that women had flocked to his little brother like bees to a nectar-rich flower from the earliest moments of Wulfric's sexual awakening, and, yes, once or twice Fergus had been glad that he was happily married by the time Wulfric came into the fullness of his looks and manner.

That Wulfric was now the one happily married didn't seem to matter—it was Jennie's reaction that had Fergus holding his breath.

"Your brother, I take it?"

He nodded.

"They suit each other."

Fergus let out his breath, squeezing her hand. Jennie glanced at him curiously, but she squeezed back before letting go.

"Hello." Little Arthur stepped out in front of Wulfric, looking up at Jennie. "Did you get bitten?"

"Is that what happened?" She smiled at him. "Apparently so. Those are quite some bugs you have here."

"Wait till you see the big ones!" The enthusiasm in the little boy's voice was infectious, and Fergus found himself smiling.

Wulfric and Morrigan emerged from their embrace, both pairs of parents' eyes glancing quickly and in alarm at the boy, now out of their reach, in a manner that brought their fears home to Fergus more than words could have.

The ring he wore had lost its heat, feeling almost cold on his finger now. He took it off, holding it out to Morrigan. "I think you can take this back now."

"It has done its work well." She reached for it, tucking it into a concealed pocket of the furs she wore.

"I understand it was warning me of some kind of danger; I came as quickly as I could. What's the danger?"

Jennie was bending over, listening gravely to Arthur's explanation of the properties of his favorite insects, but Fergus could see her eyes lift to Wulfric and Morrigan as he asked the question.

Morrigan sighed. "Flemeth."

Oghren was thrashing around in his cocoon, moaning in his sleep. Varric looked over at him, frowning. "You think we should let Rowdy loose?"

"In my estimation, the only further danger he poses is to the one who blackmailed him," Fenris said, scowling at Bethany. She'd been propped up against a tree, but she was still trussed up securely. Glaring at Fenris, she made a few muffled noises through her gag, but no one paid attention to her. The Dalish elf sat on the other side of the clearing from her, also bound and gagged. It hadn't taken long after the elf woke up for Zev to notice how all the members of the party seemed swayed by the elf's flowing, smooth tones and to make sure that well-trained bardic voice was silenced, if only temporarily.

"He might harm himself if we cut him free," Anders said, watching Oghren's movements as the dwarf worked toward consciousness with a troubled look.

Isabela nodded in agreement. "Let me talk to him when he wakes up, see if he still feels like killing all of us, or if capturing Miss Traitor over there makes him feel like hurting himself instead."

"Very well," Zev said. "Isabela, you are on Oghren duty." He glanced up at the sky, the sun high above and beating down on them. "As we do not know how much longer we will be here, or the length of the daylight in this country, I suggest we all take this opportunity to rest. I will take the first watch over the other prisoners. If you will take the second, my diminutive friend?"

Varric nodded. "Wake me when you need me, Flash." He winced, grinning. "I walked into that one, didn't I?"

Zev's quirked eyebrow and the gleam in his eye said all that was needed.

"Get a room," Isabela called from across the clearing.

"He wishes." Varric chuckled, letting the tent flap fall behind him.

Fenris and Anders had gone into their respective tents. Oghren's thrashing had ceased, replaced by loud snores.

"You may as well rest," Zev said softly. "I can wake you if he requires your attention. Or the sudden silence will."

Isabela stood up, stretching. They were warm-weather creatures, but neither was used to the relentless heat and humidity of this jungle. "I think I will. Call out if you need anything."

Zev paced slowly, out of long habit avoiding anything that looked like a pattern. He watched the sky in the direction Morrigan had flown. He studied the two Grey Wardens intently. But the long day and the heat and the monotonous drone of the insects was taking its toll on him; his eyelids were drooping. When he heard a rustling sound in the trees he whirled around, but it was only a bird, albeit one brilliantly plumaged in red and yellow, that soared into the sky. The jungle was making him jumpy, he decided. It was uncomfortable not being able to discern which sounds belonged there and which did not.

"Fly well, small one," he murmured, watching the bird as it disappeared in the distance.

The invasion, when it came, was soundless anyway. Something stung his neck, and as a haze filled his vision a figure clad in leather armor tinted green to bled into the jungle's natural hues dropped lightly from the tree above his head. "Sleep well, my friend," said a familiar accented voice, and he knew nothing more.