Standing on the banks of the wide, swampy lake before Flemeth's hut, Alistair stared back toward the battlefield. In his mind, he willed again and again for someone to appear on the horizon; Cailen, Duncan, another warden, a lowly foot soldier. He waited there, aching desperately for some sign that all was not lost. When he'd first come to, Flemeth had broken the news that he was likely the soul survivor of Ostagar; he'd raged against her bitter declaration for the better part of an hour, accusing her of ignorance, of lying. In between, Alistair found himself wracked with fits of uncontrollable, anguished sobbing. His mentor, his brother, his wardens...all wiped out by a single man's treachery. And now, the Blight would sweep across Ferelden, unchecked. He would lose his land as well. Flemeth's voice from behind him cut into his bleak thoughts like a cold knife. "See! Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man." Heels turning in the mud, Alistair came around face to face with something he believed impossible; it was Aedan, alive and seeming none the worse for wear, save the shadows beneath his eyes. "You're...you're alive. Hah...I thought you were dead for sure." Maybe they were both dead, he mused, suspended somewhere in the fade; Alistair had to fight hard to check the urge to pat hands over Aedan's body. Aedan made a small bow in Flemeth's direction. "I'm not, thanks to Flemeth. Besides, it takes more than a few darkspawn to kill me."

Alistair felt a buzzing grow between his temples, behind his eyes. Everyone was gone, they should be dead. "Ugh. This doesn't seem real." Nodding, Aedan's eyes dropped to the slimy ground beneath their feet.

Slowly, Alistair gave his head a sobering shake. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

Showing her umbrage, Flemeth turned fully toward them. "Do not talk about me as though I am not present, lad."

He felt a little sheepish. "But you've never told us your name...I just assumed, that is..."

"Names are pretty, but useless, like some people's tongues. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, as you have been; I suppose it will do."

Alistair repressed a shudder. "The Flemeth...from the legends? You truly are the Witch of the Wilds."

Despite her tone, Flemeth didn't appear offended; Alistair wasn't sure she was capable of it. "And what is that supposed to mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well."

Aedan nodded his agreement slowly. "Flemeth; very old and very powerful, if the legends are to be believed."

"Those are relative things, but compared to you, yes...on both counts."

A measure of helplessnes rose up in Alistair's chest. "Then why didn't you save Duncan? He is...was our leader." Duncan's life was worth ten of his own; at least then the wardens and the kingdom would have a chance at being rebuilt.

To her credit, Flemeth appeared truly sympathetic for a moment. "I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later...in the dark shadows before you take your vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now."

"There are none of us left to face the Darkspawn, Flemeth. What do you suggest?" Aedan was truly seeking advice; Alistair hoped sincerely she had any to give.

"It has always been the Grey Warden's duty to unite the lands against the Blight; or did that change when I wasn't looking? Surely there are allies you can call on, to give aid in your time of need."

"We had nearly defeated it! Why would Loghain do this!" Alistair grappled with his frustration and confusion.

"Now that is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he thinks the Blight is an army he can out-maneuver; perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

Her meaning was terribly clear. "The arch demon."

"Whether or not it is truly a tainted old-god, history says the arch demon is a fearsome and immortal thing; only fools ignore history."

Aedan looked to him with absolute confidence; Alistair hated it. The last time, he'd been reassuring his friend that Loghain was coming, even as the traitor quit the field. "Where do we go Alistair? We must have an ally."

Alistair thought of the king, of the arl that raised him, all he would lose to the Blight, and suddenly an idea sprang forth. "Arl Eamon...he would never stand for this. He is a good man, and Cailan's uncle. He wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men."

"We'll need more than one arl's men; there has to be someone else to join the fight."

He really wasn't thinking clearly, Alistair realized. "Of course; the treaties! The dwarves, elves, even mages are bound to aid the Grey Wardens during a blight."

Crossing arms in a self-satisfied manner, Flemmeth nodded slowly. "This Arl Eamon...Dwarves, elves, mages...sounds like an army to me." She straightened, squaring bent shoulders. "So you are set then, ready to be Gray Wardens." Alistair felt grateful to Flemeth; she'd given him a little hope.

Morrigan joined them beside the lake, clearly ready to hurry them along. "The stew is bubbling mother; shall we have two guests for dinner or..." Alistair found her narrowed eyes resting squarely in him, "...None?"

Flemmeth chose to ignore her daughter's words, instead turning to fully face both him and Aedan; Alistair wondered if she were about to claim repayment for saving their lives.

"The Gray Warden's are leaving, girl, and you shall be joining them."

Morrigan clucked her tongue with mock sympathy. "Such a shame. And here I...what?"

"You heard me girl. The last time I looked you had ears."

Aedan stepped forward; dreading what was to come, Alistair braced.

"I think that's an excellent idea. Morrigan is a skilled guide and could make a formidable ally on our journey to Redcliffe."

"Have I no say in this?" He might not want her along, but Alistair enjoyed watching Morrigan rankle a little.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years; here is your chance."

Flemeth's tone told everyone present the discussion was closed. Alistair was surprised by how quickly she turned on him. "As for you, wardens...consider this repayment for your lives."

Unease was growing in the pit of his stomach; Alistair looked between Flemeth and Aedan, concerned. "Not to...look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems?" He pointed to Morrigan, realizing it was bad manners when it was too late. "Outside the Wilds, she's an apostate."

There was a playful light in Flemeth's eyes. "If you do not wish help from us...illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you to die on that tower, lad."

Her logic, he decided, was unquestionable. "Point taken."

Flemeth turned back to her daughter; Alistair found himself a little touched by the scene. "Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the Darkspawn; they need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight...even I."

Her face was stern as she addressed them once more, and though Alistair didn't particularly care for Morrigan, he respected her mother's command. "And you, wardens...do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world; I do this because you must succeed."

Obviously resigned to the task, Morrigan addressed them jointly. "Let me gather my things; then I suggest we head for Lothering. 'Tis a small place, a key stop on your imperial highway. However, it will be an excellent place to gather information and supplies."

Then she addressed Aedan alone; "Or if you prefer, I will simply be your...silent guide." She was probing for something, Alistair felt certain, but his companion remained coolly diplomatic. "Let's get underway." Whatever she'd been looking for, Morrigan's abrupt turn told him she hadn't found it.

As they made their way out of the Wilds, avoiding the source of the Darkspawn eruption, Alistair found himself increasingly curious about Morrigan. She must have caught his eyes on her a time or two; finally she sighed, stepping over a fallen tree, and turned back. "Something weighs on your mind, warden?"

"No! No. Well, yes. It's just that...are you really Flemeth's daughter?"

She seemed strangely relieved at the question. "T'was she that raised me, and thus I consider her my mother, born from her womb or not. Tis what you meant, yes?"

Aedan loped up the slope behind them. "I think what Alistair means is that it's difficult to imagine her..." He trailed off; Alistair was glad someone else was faring awkwardly in conversation or a change.

"Young, married, pregnant? Who said she was any of these things? I certainly did not."

Aedan's curiosity was clearly piqued by her declaration. "Have you ever been outside the Wilds?"

Moving aside some brush, Morrigan nodded. "Now and then, to the village I mentioned. They have a great many shops for travelers; I have gone on trips to purchase goods for Mother. I would go more often were it not for the town's Chantry; it makes the villagers particularly...intolerant. It was...interesting to observe the people there; for the most part they simply stared, and reminded me that I was an outsider."

Now Alistair found his own curiosity stirring. "A chantry, and they never once, in all this time thought you might be a witch?" Lothering must have particularly dull Templars.

The amusement in her voice was unfettered. "Of course they did! They even called out their Templars once. The found...nothing. Tis of little consequence; they do not deter me from what I seek."

"And that is..." Alistair hesitated to wonder.

"What I want is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and and step into its waters...I want to experience a city, rather than see it in my mind."

He admired Morrigan's desires, but Alistair reminded himself they were just that; Morrigan was with them to help, but also to satisfy her own needs and her mother's whim. Any real trust for her would be a long time in coming; considering the way Aedan contemplated Morrigan's back with narrowed eyes, he was having similar reservations.