A Tale of Forgotten Lore

by Crotalus24

When given the choice to face our greatest fears and failures, do we run, or do we embrace the present in hopes of forging a new future? Abandoned and betrayed by the woman they were most loyal to, they must now find trust and strength in each other and in a new companion or perish as they set out on a new journey into a long forgotten realm. (Note: Follows events after DA2.)

36. Winter's Final Grasp

Everyone is a moon and has a dark side which they never show to anybody.
~ Mark Twain

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Falon winched as the slightly rusty chainmail pinched her. The linen shirt she had found had been somewhat threadbare, but it would have to do under the circumstances. When she had first been cut down by the vardøger, the demon had not only torn her body up, but her armor and the majority of her gear, with the exception of her bracers, had been reduced to shreds as well. Only now had the ranger gotten around to trying to replace it all. Once in brittle armor was in place, Falon continued to rummage through the old chest tucked far into the back part of the cavern. At one time, it might have been an old storage room. It was a far cry from the armory that she had led the others to, but she was resigned to make do with what she found here. Finally, she had to settle on a dark brown leather jerkin that wasn't too torn up and was at least flexible enough that it would allow some movement. Again, she had to hitch up the worn pants she had found. Unfortunately, they were the only ones she had come across in the chest that somewhat fit, but it had next to nothing in terms of protection and now it looked like she was going to have to find some kind of rope to keep the garment in place. More than a little annoyed, she slammed the lid of the debilitated chest shut and watched in mild satisfaction as the rivets rattled out of place and threatened to break apart. With that, Falon threw her findings on top of the lid as she pondered over her current circumstances.

The fact was she had been fully healed for nearly a fortnight. The first snow thaw would hit in just the next week or so and then they would be free to leave the caverns and make their final leg of their journey to the tomb. Yet this entire time, while she should have been physically and mentally preparing herself for the trek, her thoughts were constantly focused on the elf.

She growled to herself. She knew she should not be this disconcerted over it, but ever since she had been able to walk, the warrior seemed distant. Had she taken too long to recover? Did he rethink his earlier intentions? Had her actions the other night been too much?

Inwardly the ranger groaned and rubbed the space in between her eyes. Why was she letting this get to her? This was a simple occurrence that she was over emphasizing: she no longer held the elf's attention. It wasn't as if she had more important matters to focus on: mainly that being their survival out here. Besides, in the years she's spent roaming the forest, she certainly wasn't holding anyone's appreciation either. So then why was she placing so much significance onto this?

'Because…it's going beyond just that.'

Cursing to herself, she shoved the moldy leather jerkin onto her shoulders and snatched up her cloak. She shouldn't be thinking of this right now. She shouldn't have allowed it to affect her so much then. She had other priorities, other obligations, those primarily being making sure they didn't end up killed out here, and so far her accolades pertaining to that had been less than stupendous. These tasks weren't necessarily something she could do if her thoughts were constantly drifting to the elf and the way he use to look at her, or the way his muscles would curl and flexed whenever he trained with his sword, or the way his mouth curled ever so slightly whenever he would-

'Stop it!'

That's when the idea hit her. Merrill. Maybe she should talk to Merrill. Women were supposed to be good at talking about these things, right? Sure, Merrill didn't look like the epitome of knowledge about this sort of thing, but the hunter was sure as the Abyss that she wasn't going to go seeking advice from Varric. That thought alone left her gut in knots. Besides, Merrill lived with her clansmen for the majority of her life and she had been observant enough to point out those small details from before. She should have at least some inkling of what to do in these types of situations.

Falon abruptly altered her course towards the main chamber of the leigheas'an, but as she sharply turned on her foot, she lost her balance. She tried to catch herself but only ended up clipping the wall and landing ungracefully on her shoulder. For a moment, she just laid there.

'D-Did I just…no. No, I couldn't have.'

But as she looked down the hallway, there were no gaps in the stone, no cracks, no jutting piece of rock that had caught her foot. The group's dexterous and usually light-footed ranger had almost cracked her skull open by simply tripping over her own feet.

"That's it," she growled, "I'm starting re-training tomorrow. No excuses."

"Interesting. I was going to suggest you do that as well, considering you didn't just shatter your arm all over again."

'Damn.'

Falon slowly turned her head and gazed up at the warrior from the ground. She had experienced some truly humbling moments before, but this one almost made it to the top of the list. Of course, being the cunning, stealthy hunter that she was, not only had made a stumbling fool of herself by merely walking down a hallway, but she had to do it in front of Fenris of all people. Salvaging what was left of her pride, she rolled back onto her knees to get up.

"I'm fine. I just…I…"

"Tripped," Fenris supplied as he reached down and helped her to her feet.

"Yeah…" she murmured and again tried to hide her embarrassment with a subtle cough.

"I see you visited the armory," he stated as he observed the plain mail shirt and jerkin. "It doesn't look elvhen."

"Yes, well, the last pieces I had been wearing I had acquired over a long period of time. I think these are of human make or possibly dwarven. Perhaps it was something that had been scavenged."

"Why take that? There are more suitable pieces of armor in the other armory you found and of better quality. That mail doesn't look as if it could stop a wooden arrow tip."

"It suits its purpose."

"Albeit poorly," he replied as he tugged on the sleeve of her jerkin and caused the seams to pop out. "We would find junk like this on the Wounded Coast. Of course, we never intended to wear it only sell it for a few pieces of copper."

Falon merely batted his hand away and pulled the cloak over her shoulder to hide the rip. It was of at least good quality, but then it was an extra cloak belonging to Merrill.

Fenris took one last, disdainful look at her attempt to arm herself and scoffed, "Come with me."

"Why?"

"Just do it," he replied as he grabbed her arm and pulled her along.

She was somewhat shocked by his bluntness, and perhaps that was what allowed him to lead her back into the armory. Once there, he left her at the entrance as he proceeded to search through the armaments and chests. That's when she realized what he was doing and almost made to leave again, but instead, she stayed while telling herself it was just to humor him and not because she felt touched by the sentiment.

Thankfully he passed up a traditional set of Dalish hunting armor where the midsection was entirely exposed. Not only did it seem ineffective as armor to her, but the thought of leaving her recently mauled middle open sent a shiver down her spine.

"Here, this should suffice," he stated when he returned and placed a large quantity of mail, cloth, and leather into her arms.

Falon eyed his findings with a hidden air of appreciation. Fenris knew how she fought and what her strengths on the field and in the forest were. Thus, he knew exactly what he was looking for. The warrior most likely procured some of the best scouting armor in here while still keeping in mind her need for some defense and movement. The dark gray mail shirt was composed of multitudes of woven chain links, but still light enough that she felt as if she was just holding a heavy cloak. Anything short of a drake would be able to tear through. The pants were thick, black wool reinforced with leather along the sides and back. There were also a pair of scale greaves. She took a closer look at the black tunic and realized that it was inlaid with different enchantments. She wouldn't put it past him to know what they meant either since the first was used to muffle one's steps and the other helped to steady one's aim with a bow. Even the belts had runes to enhance her stamina and reflexes.

Shaking her head, Falon made to hand all he had found back to him, "No, I can't take these."

His eyebrow rose slightly at her reply. "Why?"

"It's…it's not my place to take these things. Maybe for you and the others…but I was never meant to even step foot into this place."

"So you would rather put yourself at risk wearing those pieces of junk rather than utilize what has been left here to rot? How is this any different from the mage, Varric, and I salvaging items from this room?" When she did not answer, he subtlety added, "Then would you rather risk the welfare of the group by not being adequately prepared?"

Falon ran her thumb over the black wool. Grudgingly, she admitted that he had a point. She was not helping matters if she allowed her stubbornness to outweigh her reason in this instance. This armory was intended to be used by the People and not for someone such as her still settled uneasily with the ranger. Yet, the fact that Fenris had given her the armor and she had not merely taken it for herself seemed to assuage her guilt over the matter.

Not waiting for the surge of culpability to take hold of her again or change her mind, she wordlessly gathered Fenris's findings and went around the corner to equip them. As she slipped on her other boot and stropped the final belt into place, she felt a subtle change come over her that didn't have anything to do with the runes.

When the moment had finally passed, she stepped back into the chamber and found Fenris sitting on one of the stone chests and sharpening Tyrfing. The soft grate of the whetstone was somewhat soothing, but at her approach, he stopped and slowly observed her attire before nodding his approval. He then reached behind him and produced a garment mottled in different shades of blacks and grays.

"I found this as well."

Gingerly taking it from him, she understood why he had chosen it. It was very similar to the coat she had been so partial to. However, she instantly recognized the craftsmanship, the subtle runes that were woven so intricately into the material, and ran her hand over the sable leather and silver buckles.

"This isn't a coat you know. It's a type of robe. The elders would wear these during the Solstice ceremonies. Specifically, they are designed more for a mage."

"I see," he said as he reached to take it back, but she shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'll take it as well," she replied as she put it on and pushed back the leather hood. "It should do well to stave off the cold." Fenris simply nodded and returned to sharpening the sword. And then those same confounding thoughts began whipping around in her head until she found a foreign urge to end their silence. "Thank you for helping me change my mind about this," she admitted grudgingly. "You were right…this is a more practical approach. What were you doing all the way down here, anyway?"

"Searching for you," he replied without looking up. "I saw Freki had been lingering around the outside of these tunnels for the past hour. I simply deduced you were here."

"Why were you looking for me?"

The grate of the whetstone got suddenly louder for an instant, but other than that, the elf was impassive, "You've been avoiding me ever since your leg had been fully mended."

At that, Falon felt the twinges of nervousness seize her, but refused to twitch under his scrutiny, "You were keeping your distance. I…thought maybe you had lost interest or had second thoughts."

He turned and when she saw the green fire light up in his eyes, she realized she had been sourly mistaken about several things. "I haven't," he stated. "But I had been thinking about what happened before…and I thought I had made my intentions clear. I didn't want to press the matter further until you felt…more at ease."

It took a moment, but she considered his words until she realized that he was eluding to that frightening moment on the Shadowed Paths and her reaction when he had almost….

Falon quickly shoved both the memory and the cold feeling associated with it to the back of her thoughts. However, if the elf was merely keeping his distance for her sake…. To him, she asked, "Then…you don't have any hesitations about all this?"

At that, he paused as if pondering her question, "Maybe…at first. But our time here, with you, and before, has quelled reservations I may have had in the past. Perhaps I couldn't say it before, but now, I am…comfortable around you."

Steeling herself, she stood before him and slowly reached out to run her fingers over his forearm. Instead of bracing against the touch or withdrawing, he merely turned his arm around until his fingers were ghosting over her skin as well and tracing the blood writing there. The feel of the lyrium was almost indistinguishable to his skin. The only difference was that the bands were only slightly warmer.

"I like…this, whatever this is," she murmured as she traced the warmth of his skin while staring into his darkening gaze. At that, it almost seemed like a shadow had shifted across his eyes, but it happened so quickly she wasn't sure if she had actually seen it. "I just don't know if I want to…progress further like we almost had that other night."

It happened again, only this time there was a flash of realization followed by a hint of confusion and slight panic from the warrior, "It was not my intention to force you into that situation."

Yet even when his words seemed intent to calm or sooth her fears, his hand, which had still been lingering on her arm, gently but securely, held her beside him.

But the ranger emphatically shook her hand, "No, I…before my injuries had hindered me and now…." Falon sighed and tried to discern what she was trying to say, "It's just, after everything that's happened, we are still not done. The tomb is so near, but even if that's true, we…I…"

"You fear letting your guard down."

'I fear telling you the truth," she inwardly thought.

But instead, she replied solemnly, "My whole life I've only had to watch out for my wellbeing, now…what happens if I'm too distracted that I overlook something, or fail to read the signs around me correctly and get us lost or worse? What if-"

"You've led us this far. And we've survived for this long."

"Freki led you here. And despite my first assumptions of you all, you are in fact well adapt at surviving…precarious situation."

"That may be, but the wolf would not be here without your urging," he replied. "You've guided us well. I…trust you to guide us the rest of the way."

She could barely contain her resolve and dropped her gaze as she tried to hide her wavering. When she had regained some composure, she replied meekly, "You three could have picked any other forest in Thedas, and I could have practically guaranteed your safety."

"If we had, would you have followed us in the beginning?" She didn't answer because she truthfully didn't know what she would have done. "But if you wish to first put this ordeal behind us, then I have no objections to it."

"Truly?"

He shrugged as the side of his mouth picked up in a small half-grin, "I've never courted a woman before, at least not in the traditional sense. I find myself somewhat keen on the idea of it."

An overwhelming feeling gripped her chest and despite her recent requests, she found herself closing the distance between them.

"Fenris, may I kiss you?" She didn't know why she asked him this, only that it seemed like the most logical thing at the time. Instead, the spell hanging over the warrior appeared to dissipate as he quizzically stared at her. "I…did I say something wrong?"

Fenris quickly shook himself from his musings, "No, it's only…no one has ever…asked for my permission before."

She had not been expecting an answer like that, but instead of pity or sadness, the feeling in her chest only intensified as she tilted her chin up.

"Fenris…may I?"

He did not seem to have heard her as he continued to stare at her profoundly. Then, ever so subtlety, he nodded. She was the one that leaned forward, but after her lips brushed against his, it was the warrior that pulled her close.

Like before, she could feel the stalwart strength as he held her. His attention to her was eager but thorough as if he had not explored enough of her from that other night. Her mind desperately tried to recall moments during that time, but already she was being swept up in the elf's fervent advances. Once more she was at a lost as to what to do and merely followed Fenris's lead. Even when he pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled his hips, she relied on his movements and cues on how to progress. Although, some things came more instinctually than others.

She reached up and touched his feather-light hair. As her fingers brushed against his ear, he gave an approving noise in the back of his throat. Soon, she forgot about the cavern around them, the reservations she held. Without thinking of anything other than holding the male even closer to her, her hand trailed down his neck. Fenris broke the kiss, but did not travel far from the ranger.

"Are you sure about your earlier decision?" he murmured in her throat. "Prolonging this could merely make it worse."

At his words, Falon sighed heavily, and as hard as it was, she pulled away. He let her go, but the way his hands continued to linger told her of his reluctance to do so. And despite her claims, even she was having difficulties breaking their connection. There was a subtle flinch from the warrior and that's when she realized that her hands had unconsciously traveled down his shoulders and then his arms.

Before she could contemplate her words, she blatantly asked, "Does it hurt when others touch you?"

"Yes." At that, her fingers that had been ghosting over his arms stilled but he reassured her presence with another kiss. When they parted again, he murmured, "But for some reason, they don't cause me pain. Not with you. When you touch me…it is difficult to describe."

She suddenly found it very hard to hold his gaze and opted to lean her forehead onto his chest. The ranger could hear his steady heartbeat. It was strong and utterly alive…not like the first time she had encountered him and was unsure if his heart would even hold out through the night.

"Thank you for finding me," she murmured.

"I think you are being somewhat over gracious. The tunnels only branch off in a few directions in this place, and we've had enough time to become familiar-"

"That's not what I meant," she replied softly. "I meant before…during that night in the forests beneath Sundermount."

"As I recall, at least partially, it was you who found me."

"That isn't as I see it."

She could hear his heart quicken ever so slightly, but a few moments only passed in silence before he eased her up.

"We should head back to the others. Our absence will have been noticed by now."

The ranger merely nodded her head as she gathered her newly acquired belongings and followed the warrior down the tunnels.

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He waited knowing that his patience would win out in the end. He could see the hunger in her eyes, in her body, in the way it would respond to even the most subtle of movements from his own. He smirked and felt his ego rear up in kind as she glanced at his mouth before her entire body tensed. He dropped his chin only slightly to hide his ever growing smirk. She licked her lips and he had to catch himself or else his own resolve would begin to slip. As he anticipated, she was the one to make the first move.

Falon's saber came up to meet his sword with a decisive ring. He was off-put by the amount of force she put behind it because he knew the ranger was one never to attack head on. But in that brief second of confusion, he realized that had been her goal. Like a serpent, her hand shot out towards his wrist in an attempt to break his hold on his sword. She was almost successful too, but at the last instant, he twisted his elbow and was able to release himself before she had a solid grip.

"I think she's getting desperate now, elf."

His focus was so intent at the moment that he barely registered the dwarf. He probably wouldn't have even heard him if not for the indignant scoff from the ranger.

Falon attempted another rush meant to throw him off balance. Instead, he was quick enough to intercept her blade with his and lock them. Even in a stalemate where she was outmatched in strength, he could see her controlled breathing and calculating eyes as she tried to devise a plan out of his trap.

Dropping his head and voice low, he murmured to the ranger over their blades low enough so that only she could hear him, "I will say this: I'm glad you have an able body once again." Falon's concentration waivered as she gave him a perplexed look. "I enjoy watching you fight. It's savage and fluid. When you move, it's almost like a dance."

Her breathing hitched and he knew her wrists had loosened as her blade subtly gave way. It was all the incentive he needed to pushed forward and knock the woman off balance. Falon let out something akin to an aggravated growl as she attempted to recover by feinting left. But it was too late. In most cases, he was above such underhanded means, especially during a sparring match. However, the truth was that he was enjoying toying with the ranger too much to let his pride hinder him.

He intercepted her on the right as she dropped low and attempted to swipe his legs from under him. She was partially successful. The ranger made contact with his calf, but there was not enough strength behind her freshly healed leg. She managed to buckle his knee, but he in turn rolled with the motions and caught her behind her weak knee with the flat of his sword. She went down and the force knocked her blade from her grip. He stood over her with his sword pointed at her chest and smirked again. Her only reply was a cold glare laced with frustration.

"That's broody elf: four, rehabilitated ranger: two." He could hear the dwarf's slight amusement in his voice, however, his focus was on the woman at his feet.

"That was a dirty trick," she panted when he finally let her up. "I want a rematch." He admired her tenacity, but didn't miss the grimace she had when she stepped to quickly on her previously injured leg.

The elf shook his head and turned from their training ring which was no more than a worn patch of dirt, "You're done for the day."

There was a rustle from behind him and as he turned in expectation to intercept her attack. Instead, with a quick spin on her heel, she had effectively flanked him.

As much as he enjoyed their little game, he could see the hard edge at the corners of her eyes. She was quite skilled at hiding her pain, but there were the small tells that gave her away: the way the grip of her sword would weakened over time, even the way she would lead with her other leg.

"I know my limits," she replied confidently when she caught him eyeing her. "One more bout, then you and Varric can go drink to your hearts' content."

"Go rest," he replied with little room for rebuttal. "Or else you're going to undo all that the foolish mage has blundered in accomplishing up until now."

"So you do admit that Merrill has accomplished something?"

"Just go."

Surprisingly, she seemed to accede to his request as she parted from them with a subtle shake of her head. Though, the ease at which she did left him highly doubting that she would seek rest. If anything, she would probably go hunt down the mage. The foolish elf had been missing since morning and Falon never liked having her out of her sight for lengths at a time. His musings were only reaffirmed when she glanced over her shoulder at him and gave the warrior a coy smile before disappearing down one of the tunnels.

After a moment, he heard the dwarf behind him give a bemused, yet intrigued sound as he sat next to the small fire for warmth. "Hmm, that was interesting."

Ignoring the open-ended statement, Fenris sheathed his sword and made his way over to one of the pools to wash off the dirt and sweat that had accumulated during his bouts with the ranger. Despite her recent injuries and time spent recuperating, she was still a very skilled fighter.

"So was that a sparring session or you two's rendition of foreplay?"

At one time, he might have shot the dwarf a glare for overstepping his bounds, but Fenris merely hid his smirk as he splashed the warm water on his face. Turning to the rogue he asked, "Is there a difference?"

The dwarf's response was highly amusing. In fact, Fenris thought to remember it in the future. Varric sat there and merely stared at him, clearly at a loss as to how to respond. Yet in the next instance, he slapped his knee as he began to openly laugh aloud.

Fenris chuckled along with him as he finished cleaning himself off. But as he rose from the water's edge, the dwarf's hearty laughter became a serious of hacking coughs. Fenris's mild amusement was instantly washed away as he watched the dwarf continue to cough and struggle to get his breathing back. He finally seemed to get it under control, and with a disgusted sound, he turned his head and spat on the ground. Shaking his head, the dwarf made it a point not to catch the elf's eye.

The fact was, the dwarf had been having these fits more and more recently. It was something that had been noticed by the others as well.

Despite Varric's insistence to the mage that all was fine with him, Fenris was growing concerned for the dwarf. Winter down here had not been the easiest, but he had stayed in far worse living conditions. And in thanks to the wolf and the ranger's knowledge, there meals had not been what one would call meager. They had their usual supply of fungus, bats, even the disgusting fish that lived in the pools. But as the season progressed and once Falon regained her mobility, there had been a significant variety added to their meals. Falon fell back into her role as hunter for their group with vigor. Every time the ranger and wolf returned, there was a pouch of winter berries, roots, and usually a few rabbits or a deer.

It may not have seemed like much of a staple to live off of during the winter. But Fenris had once lived on a sustenance that was far inferior and nowhere near as nourishing as what he was forced to eat this past season. However, as he observed Varric, the dwarf looked significantly pale while his belt seemed looser than what it should be. Even his coat didn't seem to fit him like it used to.

"You keep staring at me like that, broody, and Falon's up to start to become jealous. You don't want to put me in that position, now do ya?"

"Falon has just spent the majority of winter unable to walk and in a brace. I doubt she is eager to become sick anytime soon."

"I'm not sick," the dwarf spat back. With a tired sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck as he rolled his head. "I'm just…out of sorts."

"You've been this way ever since we routed the darkspawn some time ago. Do you think you may have contracted something?"

"Nah. I'm careful around that stuff. Besides, if it was something like that, it would have become more apparent at this point…I think." Shaking his head, the dwarf attempted to brush the elf's concerns aside. "Look elf, the role of you playing nursemaid may apply to Falon, but I'll think I'll pass on such. Now do me a favor, and let's skim over this whole conversation."

Such things should not be blatantly ignored, but it was the dwarf's primary concern. Not his. Though it was still at the forefront of his thoughts, Fenris reluctantly did as the dwarf asked…at least for now.

Just then, a low growl came from the other side of the sparring circle. Glancing up, the two of them spotted Freki. The wolf was deep asleep, yet he was twitching relentlessly and snapping at the air. With a sharp yelp, the wolf lurched to his feet and stared wildly around him. Eventually, Freki caught sight of the two of them. With a dismissively sneeze, the wolf's gaze dropped as he lumbered down one of the tunnels.

"He's been doing that a lot lately," Varric mused. "Been sleeping all day as well. Can barely get him to wake up before the sun sets."

Fenris had noticed something off with the wolf as well. At night, Freki was always on alert and ever watchful. For what, Fenris had never been able to discern, and neither did Falon have any explanation for it other than perhaps the wolf was simply restless.

"It's like the mutt thinks there something out there."

For a brief moment, Fenris remembered the hideous fear demon, but instantly shoved such notions to the back of his mind. The demon was dead. He had seen to it himself.

"It's taken me a little time to get the hang of it, but I'm starting to be able to see it," the dwarf stated. "Whenever the wolf or even Falon get like this…something's usually coming."

"She hasn't mentioned anything," Fenris replied.

"Yes…well, Falon isn't the most upfront about these things. Especially when it comes to speaking about this place. And unless you're asking how she tracks or what's edible out there, she's pretty tight-lipped about the forest as well."

"Her past lingers here," Fenris stated without thinking about what he was saying aloud. "She did not wish to return because of it."

"And in your conversations with the ranger, did she ever elaborate on this vague past of hers?" When the warrior did not reply, Varric prodded him further. "Come on elf, you'll know I'll just ask it of her directly."

For some reason, he did not like the idea of the dwarf hounding the ranger for such things. Eyeing the tunnel where he had last seen her depart, Fenris stated, "From what I gathered, her people, or at least her mother's people, lived in these woods. When she came of significant age and her skills were noteworthy, her father came to claim her."

"I see."

Fenris grabbed another log and threw it on the fire, for which the dwarf appeared grateful. "She does not speak openly of it. There are only pieces that come from time to time. Yet from them…I believe her father was a magister of sorts or at least associated with them."

"What makes you think that?"

"Her ability to speak Arcanum for one. For someone that has lived south of the Waking Sea for a majority of their life, the opportunities to learn that speech are rare. There is also the Imperium itself. Of all the lands we speak of, she is familiar with that one as much as the Frostbacks and the Arbor Wilds. She has also mentioned that he was a mage."

"Still, elf, that is somewhat of a stretch."

"It is only a vague assumption."

"Even so, why worry about them? The Imperium is on the other side of Thedas right now and it's clear to the rest of us that the elves that lived here are long gone."

"She said in order to regain her freedom from her father, she disposed of him. Inconsequently, her mother suffered the same fate. Since then, she hasn't returned to this land."

"Hmm, yeah, I can see how that would cause our guide to have some reservations about this place. If everything acts as a static reminder, then I wouldn't be so keen on it either."

"There is more…"

"Yeah?"

"Falon…I'm inclined to think that she believes there something…residing in the forest."

"Yeah," the dwarf murmured, "the demons and whatnot. Things we've all faced before."

"No…it isn't just that. Have you not noticed?"

"What?"

"The more time passes and the closer we get to the tomb…you can see the hesitance in her eyes. More than once she has asked we turn back."

The dwarf scoffed at the remark, "So Falon, with all her talk of 'There's no such thing as the Dread Wolf', does in fact think that it's buried there."

"Perhaps…but then, the mage's stories always say that the wolf still walks this world. What if…it isn't really a tomb we heading towards?"

"You mean to say it could be the wolf's den?" the dwarf laughed, yet the elf did not join in on his amusement. "Since when did you become so superstitious, elf?"

"I'm not. I'm merely wondering what gives our guide pause. If we've learned nothing else on this expedition, isn't it this: if the one in our group that has the ability to speak with wolves, prefers to roam the woods alone, and doesn't flinch from the threat of night becomes hesitant of something, shouldn't it be in our best interest to consider it as well?"

"In our group's defense," Varric mused, "it isn't as if we haven't taken others' warnings to heart before." The dwarf chuckled as he gave a bemused shrug, "It's just in the end, we kind of just say 'Screw it' and run right along with our plans anyway."

Fenris was not sure how to respond to that. At that point, he was intently considering the dwarf's lucidity. However, the grim truth was that this was no different to the Dwarf's cavalier nature back in the city. Shaking his head, Fenris then began to question his own sanity by following along with the dwarf.

"What?" Varric asked incredulously. "Don't worry so much about it, elf. These things tend to work themselves out in the end. You'll see."

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

She missed this. Having the cold air buffet her face felt like a wash of cold water. It burned and stung at first, but it was ultimately refreshing. Even though it was somewhat overcast, the dim light was harsh on her eyes which had grown accustomed to the dark after so many weeks underground. But the ground itself…she missed the earth and soil. It was buried a few feet under the blanket of white and perhaps still frozen.

Today she was in luck. A small herd of red deer had ventured down from the northern woods. Even now, she crept quietly through the ruins until the deer's burnt red coats were in distance. She wouldn't get a better shot than this. Pulling the string taunt, Falon found that silent plain where everything was drowned out….

Then the herd bolted.

In the back of her mind, she recognized the harsh sound of a branch snapping and Merrill's startled yelp. So intent on her hunt, Falon took chase, but the deer had already disappeared into the trees before she had taken even three steps.

Behind her, a timid voice stuttered, "S-Sorry." Falon replaced her unused arrow with a dejected sigh. Empty handed, she returned to the mage and her familiar. "I tried to tell you. I'm just no good at this sort of thing."

Shaking her head, the hunter replied, "It's fine, Merrill. I simply wanted out of the cave for a time. Fresh meat was an added bonus."

"I see."

"You could still find something," Munin stated. "I for one am tired of the dwarf's rendition of charred fish night after night."

Falon smirked at the bird and shook her head again, "After his and Fenris's outing that one time, that same dwarf would beat my hide up and down these mountains if I left you both alone out here, even if it were just for a short while."

But still…she was whole once more. And after an entire winter feeling that she was shackled in her own body, the call to run and hunt was becoming stronger with each breath.

"What is this place, Falon?"

Tearing herself from the treeline, the ranger turned her gaze to the mage who was examining the white, stone ruins with wide-eyed fascination.

"It's, or it was, an old watch tower," Falon explained as she joined the mage at the base of the small fortress.

"It's elvhen?"

Falon nodded, "It's supposed to mark the boundary of the Black Forest." The mage looked at her quizzically and Falon elaborated, "The Black Forest was an old name for the Arbor Wilds. It's still used today, but…not among humans."

"I've never heard the name before."

"It's not used among the Dalish or other elves anymore either."

"Then who?"

"Wolves," Falon replied after a moment.

"Wolves? You mean wolves like Freki."

Again Falon nodded as she entered the tower and gestured the mage to follow. She found a winding set of stairs leading to the tower's upper landing and began to climb.

"Is it safe?" Munin asked.

Falon braced against the ancient stone step but it didn't give. "It's fine."

The ranger resumed her climb as Merrill followed tentatively. Eventually, they reached a withered wooden door that Falon was able to easily knock down. Here, a large room with vast openings facing north, south, and west. The eastern wall had completely fallen in along with most of the roof on that side. The tower had been covered in snow and peaked over the tops of the trees, so it was somewhat camouflaged in the dead of winter. The bitter wind tore through the open tower and brought with it the frigid air of the Frostbacks.

"Dear Mythal." Merrill stepped past her towards the southern outlook. "It's as if you can see for days."

Falon joined her and looked upon the same view. Before them, the forest stretched on and on before abruptly dropping into the great expanse of a valley. Falon recognized the old trees, despite their snow covered canopies…it was the Black Forest. A coldness crept inside her, but it had nothing to do with the harsh wind.

"This tower…it marks the boundary of Fen'harel's domain, doesn't it?"

Falon glanced at the mage from the corner of her eye. Say what they will, despite a few moments of flightiness, Merrill was a perceptive mage.

"The chances of us encountering the Dread Wolf are next to non-existent, Merrill."

"Then why do you get that look every time you turn to the south?"

Falon scoffed. "There are things in that forest that should cause you just as much pause as Fen'harel. Probably more so since they are more tangible."

"Like darkspawn and demons?"

"Yes."

"What else?"

Falon gave the mage a skeptical look, "Most would consider that enough."

"I'm just preparing myself. It's not as if I'm disappointed."

Falon chuckled softly at her friend's words before nodding to the distant horizon. "Do you see that piece of the mountain? It's the one that's jutting from the Frostbacks towards the west."

"Yes."

"In-between those peaks, you'll find Fen'harel's tomb."

Eyes widening in surprise, Merrill lurched forward to see what she was speaking of and nearly jostled the raven from her shoulder.

"That's…that's not far off at all. A week, maybe two. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want Varric or you to get any notions of attempting the journey without me. It seems close, but the forest is old, and it's easy to lose your way once in it. Besides, storms are unpredictable here during the winter. You've seen how quickly they appear."

Merrill nodded, but she still hadn't quelled her enthusiasm. Falon would still sometimes be taken aback by the mage's drive. Her passion was reckless, but the ranger had to give the mage recognition. Everything she was willing to sacrifice was for her People…even if it meant possibly disturbing ancient beings in the process.

"Da'len, come see."

Both of them hadn't realized that Munin had ventured over to the crumbling side of the tower. Peering over the broken side, Falon had a full view of the round, ice-covered spring.

"It's the same spring Fenris used to destroy the fear demon," Munin stated as she ruffled her feathers.

"You're right. It was so dark, and there was so much snow, I didn't recognize this place at first." Merrill seemed to be in deep thought but then asked, "Falon, the water of the leigheas'an repels dark spirits and demons, right?"

"You've seen firsthand what it can do, Merrill. So what are you asking?"

"Munin's been exposed to the same water…. That must mean she wasn't conjured by blood magic or…some other form of dark magic."

"I…I think there is much about Munin and magic we all don't quite understand." That didn't seem to be the answer either of them were seeking, yet Falon was still puzzled by the question. "Where is this coming from? Together you've both been able to do extraordinary things. Yes…Munin's an unexpected occurrence, but you both seem conscious enough to decide for yourselves." Both the mage and familiar shared a glance but did not reply. Falon then asked the raven straight out, "Do you believe yourself to be a product of corrupt magic?"

"It is something Merrill and I have discussed on several separate occasions. Both she and I are…unsure."

Falon's brow furrowed at this. Yes, she had some reservations about Munin's presence. But after seeing how much Merrill grew from the familiar's company, the hunter's reassurance in Munin was only solidified. There was no question in her mind, without the combined efforts of Merrill and Munin, she would have slipped past the Veil and from this word altogether.

A dejected huff brought the ranger back. "I didn't mean to upset you, Falon. I just…I don't know. After what happened with the mirror, you seemed concerned with what I was doing with my magic. I've come to learn that having another perspective does tend to keep me…in line."

"Isn't that what Munin is for?" Falon asked.

"Yes, but what if Munin is…"

"What?"

"I still haven't discovered what it was that I encountered in that mirror back on the Shadowed Paths," the mage admitted almost ruefully. "It was most likely a demon, but what if it was something worse?"

"Worse? As in?"

At first, Merrill refused to look at her, but then she all but whispered, "Fen'harel."

A booming silence followed the tentative reply. Falon struggled to form an answer, but at the same time and indignant ire began to rise in her.

Before she could form an eloquent response, she blurted out, "So?"

Merrill turned to her slightly startled, "P-Pardon?"

"You are in control of your own thoughts, even Munin is. So much so that you're questioning and evaluating her significance as well as your reasonings, Merrill. If you're both that aware, then Munin is more than capable of deciding for herself what role she wishes to play regardless if she's some gift from the Dread Wolf or even the Maker!"

Falon had not intended such a tirade to follow the mage's meager question, but….

"Falon, are you alright?" Falon merely nodded. At this point she didn't trust herself to speak rationally. "I…we both have considered what you've said. It's just…if Fen'harel is involved, then we have to consider the Dread Wolf's cunning as well. Who's to say my connection to Munin can't be used against me or if she can even somehow be turned on me? It sounds horrible, I know, but…I know firsthand the treacherousness of magic. I just don't want anyone to get hurt despite how much Munin might be perceived as a gift."

Falon sighed heavily, "You've thought a lot about this."

"I've tried being careful. The mirror in Hamin'druil was a slip up, but it has also been a reminder. I…walk a very thin line. I have to take everything into consideration. It's like what you said in the Shadowed Paths before I accidentally cursed Varric."

"What was that?"

"That not everything is so cut and dry, just like not everything that dwells in the light is benign."

Chuckling humorlessly to herself, Falon replied, "I did say that, didn't I?"

Merrill nodded, "It meant to remain perceptive even when your guard is down, right?"

"Something like that."

Falon returned her sights back to the tranquil sight of the frozen water. She knew Merrill questioned Munin's origins, she just never realized it was to this degree of paranoia.

The wind picked up again, but this time it carried a low, subtle warble. It was enough that her interest was piqued and she looked expectantly to the north. It seemed another group of hunters would benefit from her earlier failure.

"Go." Falon was jolted from her thoughts of the hunt, but the calm smile of the mage showed Merrill was only amused. "You should go. Munin's right, we would do well with some fresh meat. Besides, you enjoy the hunt."

"But-"

"I'm fine here. I want to study the ruins anyway. And none of us have to tell Varric."

Falon debated on leaving her behind. It would only be for a short while but still. It was then that Falon saw that Merrill was playing with the claw she had given her all the way back in Halamshiral. She had told Merrill that it warded off evil spirits. Perhaps she still held on to it because she thought it would hold off whatever dark nature that may or may not reside in either Munin or herself.

"Well?" the mage asked innocently. "Are you going or not?"

Falon observed the trees for several moments before heading to the stairs. "I'll be back well before dusk," she replied. "Stay here and don't venture into the woods alone."

The mage nodded which finally gave Falon her leave. Her legs instinctively carried her to the forest, but her thoughts remained distracted by the mage and familiar. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Merrill sitting on the edge of the tower landing with Munin perched on her bended knee. She was softly stroking the raven and staring at her as if deep in thought. There was much the hunter had not said to the mage.

In her entire existence, others, her own kin even, had perceived her to be a breed of discontent and scorn. Perhaps she had proven them right in the end, but there was still a part of her that clung to that distant sliver: she was free to choose her path and it were her choices that dictated what she was. But Merrill and Munin seemed to have already made up their minds.

Turning her back to the tower, Falon searched for a trail. Upon finding it, she followed it, and left the mage and the familiar to their musings.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Kneeling next to the frozen pool, Merrill languidly hovered over its icy surface while her fingers just barely caressed it.

"Careful, da'len."

Subtlety nodding to the bird, Merrill resumed her silent perusal. She had studied the ruins for hours. Unfortunately, there was nothing significant within. Dusk was approaching which meant Falon would be returning soon. Hopefully, it would be within the hour. However, as she waited, Merrill was soon drawn to the small spring which had been the demise of the fear demon. And as she inspected, she learned quickly that the water was not quite the same as the kind in Hamin'druil. Within the cavern, it felt as if she were constantly surrounded by the presence of magic. But here, she couldn't quite feel that same sensation. It was dim as if slumbering. If she concentrated, she could almost feel that same magic reaching back for her. But beneath that…far below, she could sense something dark and malevolent. It was so distant and only a fraction remained, but it was the reason for Munin's first warning.

"We're close to our goal," Munin suddenly stated. Diverting her focus from the ice, Merrill glanced up at the familiar perched on a rock nearby. "To the tomb," the familiar explained. "You must be excited."

"I am."

"But not like before. You're enthusiasm seemed quite dulled ever since you revealed your concerns of me to Falon."

"Are you upset that I did?"

"No, I'm merely considering her words. She…she seems to have much confidence in us despite what she may say and do sometimes."

Merrill let Munin's statement hang in the air as she returned to her silent meditation of the spring. In truth, she did not know what to think. Fenris looked upon both her and Munin with poorly concealed disdain. Varric…well Varric was always distant about magic but at least somewhat open. But even Munin seemed to make the dwarf pause. And then there was Falon….

Merrill gave a frustrated grunt as she scratched the frozen surface. She was tired and now her head hurt. And it was cold. Very cold. When did it get so cold?

Glancing up at the sky, Merrill realized that it was now twilight. The long shadows of the evening were looming in, but Falon was nowhere to be seen.

"Falon should have been back by now," she whispered. Her words misted in the frozen air while she was forced to pull her cloak closer around her. "Should we go look for her?"

"By ourselves? Perhaps not the wisest of decisions, but I think I can find our way back to Hamin'druil. Falon should be able to follow our trail."

Merrill reluctantly nodded. The nights were still dangerously cold, but at the same time, the idea of venturing into those trees unsettled her. Without thinking, her gaze turned to the spring once more. It was strange how the early night altered her perception. Before, the spring had seemed beautiful and pristine. Now the shadows had altered its surface and turned the water beneath into a mass of utter blackness that seemed to stretch into the bowels of the frigid earth.

"Da'len?"

"The demon," Merrill muttered, "it is dead. Isn't it?"

"The darkness draws out the strength of many beings, but Fenris saw it die with his own eyes. Even if a few traces of the demon's essence remains, it shouldn't be enough to cause concern."

Usually Munin's reasoning would comfort her but not now. Not when the darkness grew thicker with each passing second. But at the same time, the memory of them and of their presence came back to her.

Flying to her shoulder, Munin ruffled her feathers nervously, "That's impossible."

The mage felt the wood of her staff dig into her grip, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the sight before her. In a similar tactic to darkspawn, they emerged from the ground. Like someone lancing a diseased wound, the vardøger flowed from the ground like a black infection.

They were coming from everywhere: under the trees, the snow, even the ruins. The hissing at her back forced her around with a torrent of fire. Two shadows shrieked and skirted back only for three more to take their place. With grim realization, Merrill saw that the demons were slowly encircling her. But even more disconcerting was the spring. It…it was thrumming…as if trying to call out to something.

"There's too many! Da'len, run! Run!"

Merrill tried to bolt for the trees only to have a sinuous creature with glowing yellow eyes block her path. It's body was thin, stretched, and adapt at walking on four legs as wells as two. A barbed tail wished back and forth while a face that was eerily human grinned back at her. However, the multitudes of razor teeth quickly shattered any illusion of humanity in the demon.

"What pretty little things," it hissed.

Faster than she could see it move, the vardøger struck her with a flick of its tail in her shoulder. Merrill cried out and returned with a scathing blast of electricity. But the demon leapt out of the way the moment it drew blood. Cackling laughter flowed from the surrounding darkness as she clutched her weeping wound.

Oh what pretty little things are you.

Pretty little things, what will you do?

When the horseman comes to play,

Will you run or will you pray?

Oh what pretty little things are you.

Merrill scrambled to her feet as Munin harried them from above. She tried to retreat to the forest edge, but three more of the shadows emerged from the ground with scathing, hissing laughter.

You can run and you can hide,

Whatever you do, don't break your stride.

For he is quick, for he is fast,

Your wails and shrieks will be your last.

Oh what pretty little things are you.

She and Munin attempted to cut another path through only to be driven back again. Everywhere she looked, more taunting eyes stared back at her. Desperate, she fled to the tower in hopes of keeping them from her back.

Crack, Creak, Crunch, go the bones.

You hear their cries, screams, and moans,

Knash, Crash, and Gash goes the meat.

First the eyes, the heart, and then the feet.

Oh what pretty little things are you.

One of them slithered out from beneath the shadows of the steps and wrapped its long, clawed fingers around her ankle. Merrill tripped and nearly lost her staff over the edge as she came crashing down onto the stairs. Munin sent a bolt of fire at the being. It hissed angrily as it released the mage and fled back under the stairs.

Smile as the blood coats your flesh,

Smile as your heart finally rests

For the wee little shadows will smile all day,

When the demon horseman comes out to play.

Oh what pretty little things were you.

"Cease your insipid words, you foul demons!"

Racing up the stairs, Merrill panted, "How could we not sense them? We could in the Shadowed Paths."

More scathing laughter chased her into the tower landing.

"The little birds are wondering how they got caught."

"Poor little birds."

"Poor little blind birds."

With her back to the collapsed wall, Merrill came to the grim realization that she had placed herself in a corner. She had forgotten how dexterous these creatures were, but was reminded of it as one after another crawled through the tower's openings.

"When you think you are at your safest, that's when the darkness comes for you."

"We came for our master. A spark still exists despite the lengths you all went to extinguish it."

"How is this happening?" she panted. "Fenris killed the demon!"

Again there was an upheaval of laughter from the encroaching demons. "Foolish, flightless little bird! No matter what you believe, a shred of darkness exists in everything. No matter what you wish or what you do, it is there. It hides, festers, and feeds until it is strong enough to emerge once more. It is irrefutable and constant within this world!"

"No…"

Merrill was suddenly tackled from behind. A clawed hand grasped the back of her neck and pinned her to the cold stone.

"The mage wishes to see proof," a high-pitched voice hissed. "Then we'll show her."

"Merrill!"

The next thing she realized, Merrill felt herself being lift and then was sailing through the air only to come crashing back to the cold earth. She wasn't sure how she had survived being tossed from the tower window. If not for the deep snow bank, she was sure she would have shattered every bone in her body. Her breath was knocked from her, but her body knew instinctively that she had to get away.

She didn't get far. Her hand brushed against the now jagged ice and bone numbing water. It was as if the blackness of the water shot up through her arm and pierced her inner being. Merrill screamed from the contact and snatched her hand back as she tried to distance herself from the spring.

Her mind was panicking and straggled to make sense of it all. The whispering in the trees became scathing remarks to the point that it drowned out everything. Her fear was a tangible wall that was closing around her. She hadn't even realized that she had been seized once more until she was staring at her distorted reflection in the water as something gripped the back of her neck.

"Your fear-tinged blood and the magic within should be enough to restore some semblance of our master. As it should have been in the beginning. And once he regains his strength, we shall come for the rest of your followers."

"No…no…."

Cold, sharpened claws caressed her jaw and moved lower. Her chest heaved in panic, but her body refused to move.

"Merrill!"

She could feel Munin trying to get to her and even feel her desperation through the cloud of fear. "Help me."

The sharp sting at her throat brought clarity, but it was too late.

An ear piercing scream from behind her finally released her senses from the spell while her body was flung aside. Merrill looked over shoulder at the vardøger that had held her. It was clutching its eye, or where it had once been its eye but was now occupied by a bolt. It thrashed and convulsed on the ground before a savage form came rushing out of the darkness and cleaved its head off.

"F-Fenris?"

"On your feet mage! They've infected the entire area."

Merrill stumbled to find her feet, but the warrior once more came to her aid by pulling her up and half-carrying her back to Varric.

"Where's Falon?" he asked.

"In…the forest."

"Kaffas!"

"There's no time to search for her," Varric called over the rapid clicking of his crossbow. "It's too dark. I can't get a clear shot and they won't stop coming."

Fenris suddenly pushed her aside as he turned on a vardøger that had been stalking them. He dispatched it only for a second one to come at him from the side and slash him under his arm. Fenris lost his footing, but before the demon could finish him, Merrill summoned a column of fire that engulfed the demon.

The warrior glanced back at her, but quickly turned his focus back onto the battle. Her rescue had given her a brief glimmer of hope, but even with Varric and Fenris, they were grossly outnumbered and at a disadvantage.

"Elf!"

"Keep pushing forward. We have to punch a hole through."

But as soon as he shouted those words, Fenris was rushed by three of the demons.

"Varric, Fenris is down!" she shouted as two more came at her. Even with Munin's help, she was barely able to drive them off. She made to go to Fenris until a leathery appendage wrapped around her leg and pulled her to the ground.

"Enough of this!" the demon hissed into her face. It reached back with a clawed hand as it snarled at her. Merrill concentrated on a mind blast spell, but before she could release it, a huge furred mass tackled the vardøger.

"Freki?"

Merrill scrambled to her feet as she tried to discern the shape, but even in the feeble light of the moon and stars, she knew this wasn't their group's dire wolf.

The demon shrieked and thrashed like a captured rat in the massive wolf's jaws. With a loud snap, its body instantly stilled. Slowly turning to regard her with orange eyes, the massive black wolf was almost the size of a small pony. His jaws were large enough to wrap around a deer's neck and shatter it as evident to the way he had just dispatched the demon.

"Dear, merciful Mythal," she whispered. "Please…you can't be…."

The wolf growled at her again only to snap its head around and lung for another demon. Suddenly the entire night erupted into a cacophony of howls and screams. Everywhere she looked, she saw vardøger being thrown to the ground and torn into by the giant wolves and still more and more of the fearsome predators came rushing from the trees.

Another wolf with dark gray fur that resembled Freki somewhat, came rushing from the side to tackle the back of one of the vardøger. The wolf latched onto its back, but somehow the demon was able to wretched the beast off.

With an angry hiss, the demon growled, "Wretched Servants of Fen'harel! There is nothing left here, your songs go unheard, yet still you linger like insects!"

The wolf bared its fangs in reply before lunging at the demon and clamping down on its throat. Instantly it was dead.

In that moment, years of fighting in Kirkwall came back to her. Despite the chaos around her, she was able to find Varric and even Fenris. A low growl came from her side, and she was able to recognize this familiar dire wolf as Freki's reassuring presence pressed against her.

"I don't know what's going on," Varric panted. "But I say we take this opportunity and let Freki's friends clean up the rest of them."

Merrill took note of the large gash above his eye as well as Fenris who had several deep cuts along his neck. They didn't appear to be too serious until she noticed that there was a dark pool by his foot. He was clutching his side and growing too pale to be good.

Not waiting for a reply, Varric took point and began leading them into the forest. But before they even reached the shadows of the trees, three massive wolves appeared before them.

"Shit."

Freki growled at their confronters, but too late did Merrill realize that the battle had ended and the wolves had turned their focus onto them.

"This is a really bad time for us to be short a ranger who can speak with the little forest critters," Varric stated.

There must have been at least thirty of them. Full grown dire wolves, some just slightly bigger than Freki, but most nearly double the gray wolf's mass. These creatures…they were the true hunters of this land. However, Merrill's awe of them was slightly diminished as the massive black that she had seen before emerged from the back of the pack. Dwarfing the other wolves, the black wolf's presence forced the others to part and allow him passage with lowered heads and a few timid growls.

Merrill couldn't help but tremble slightly at his approach. He was practically eye-level with the mage. And while the pelts of the other wolves were stained black with the vardøgers' blood, this wolf's fur seemed pristine due to the darkness of it.

Her fear was taking hold of her once more. Her rational mind refused to let her entertain the idea, but as he stood before her, it became harder and harder to deny it.

The black wolf lowered his head and gave a rough bark. Suddenly, all of them besides the mage were rushed from every side. With startled shouts, Fenris, Varric, and Freki were overrun and brought to the ground. One wolf even leapt into the air and snatched Munin from her shoulder. She could feel the lyrium angrily stir in the air. Despite being wounded, Fenris wouldn't be taken without a fight. He threw the first wolf off only to be assaulted by five more and then dragged back down. But before it could all escalate further, Merrill did the only rational thing she could think of at the moment and threw herself on her knees in front the great wolf.

"Please! Please don't do this! We meant no harm in coming here."

The wolf growled over her head. She still sensed Fenris's barely controlled wrath building. Even Munin's panic was fueling her own. Worse yet, she could almost feel the wolf's teeth wrapped around her chest as it held her familiar in its jaws.

"Please stop!" she begged again. "If you want retribution, then take me and spare the others."

A steely silence fell over everything. Her heart was racing so fast, she was sure every wolf could hear it. She was about to beseech the wolf once more before fangs seized her by the robes and threw her backwards. She landed in the snow as the wolf suddenly stood over her. A paw, nearly twice as large as her hand, pinned her arm down as the wolf's snarling muzzle came within just a few meager breadths of her face.

"Daisy!"

She couldn't find the words to call back. She couldn't even summon or form a spell at this point. It was as if every one of those dark tales she had heard as a child had come to life. The black wolf continued to growl softly at her as it stared intently into her eyes. It seemed like an eternity she had remained in that state and staring into what looked like the tangible form of death itself. But the wolf suddenly broke its stare as its gaze traveled lower. For a brief, panicked moment, Merrill thought he would seize her throat. But instead, he continued to study her and then inhaled deeply. Glancing down, Merrill realized what had garnered his attention. Resting on her breast was the claw amulet.

The wolf scented the trinket once more before growling again. There was a stirring among the other wolves, and they seemed to close in further. Suddenly, there was a sharp crack like glass breaking. It was followed by the roar of fire rushing to life as one of Varric's fire bombs exploded in the clearing around them. Startled by harsh the light, nearly half the pack retreated back, including the others' captors. However, though alarmed, the black wolf remained. His stoic presence seemed to encourage the others to hold their ground, though they kept a watchful, tentative look about them.

The black wolf eyed her suspiciously, but before he could make a decision, the massive wolf was blind-sided by something nearly half his size but with just as much savagery. Freed, Merrill scrambled to recover her staff and regroup with the others.

"Falon!"

Merrill jerked up and gasped. The ranger had somehow managed to get a hold of the wolf around his neck and jaw. But the creature was tossing and thrashing her about like a child with a toy. Any moment, she would lose her grip.

Varric raised his crossbow and took aim.

"No!" the hunter shouted.

Despite flaying about, the ranger gave them a hard look. Just then, the black wolf lunged and rolled, effectively throwing the woman from his back. Falon hit the snow and rolled to her feet. Ignoring her earlier order, Varric readied his crossbow again. Before Merrill could stop her, Falon placed herself between the dwarf and wolf.

Varric's shot flew wild, but miraculously, the wolf skid to an abrupt halt. Standing at the ranger's back, it continued to growl and snarl savagely, but the ranger's focus remained on their small group.

She was bloodied in both the black blood of the demons as well as her own, just like the rest of them. Panting, she regarded each of them. "You're…you're going to have to trust me in this."

Varric still hadn't put his crossbow away. "Look, Falon, I know you have a soft spot and everything for them, but-"

"Varric!" The wolf at her back growled even lower, but Falon seemed to ignore him as she addressed the dwarf once more in a calmer tone. "Just lower your weapons. Let me speak to them."

Merrill wasn't sure what was going to win out: their confidence in their guide or their own instincts in survival. But to the mage's surprise, both Fenris and Varric reluctantly backed down. Only when she believed they would remain like that did Falon purposely and slowly turned to face the black wolf.

"There has been a misunderstanding," she stated. "As far as we know, this land was unclaimed and none of us have offended you or your pack."

The great wolf snarled as he laid his ears back. Then, he abruptly turned his sights toward Merrill and bared his teeth.

"You're mistaken. She had no hand in summoning those demons or attempting to resurrect the fear demon, Deimos. None of us did. If so, then why would we all reek of their foul blood?"

The wolf snarled again and bared his fangs at the ranger.

"What's going on, Falon?" Varric called back.

Not breaking eye contact with the wolf, she replied, "He suspects Merrill was the one who commanded the vardøger. They think that she was trying to bring back the fear demon."

"I…Of course not!" Merrill sputtered indignantly. "They were going to sacrifice me to it! Tell them that." The wolf let out a scathing bark towards the mage that forced her to cringe on the inside. Yet she held her ground as best she could. "W-Why do they think that?"

The wolf began another series of growls and barks. Falon was listening intently the entire time, but suddenly became rigid. For the first time since facing off against the wolf, she turned and regarded the mage with an indiscernible look.

"What is he saying?" Fenris asked.

"They found the vardøgers' trail where we escaped from the Shadowed Paths. He says when they ambushed the demons, they could smell something amidst them. They recognized the fear demon, but there was still something else. From its scent, he thought it was another demon…. He was scenting Munin."

"I don't understand…. Munin isn't a demon, she's…she just isn't."

"The bird is a familiar," Falon said to the wolf. "She was created from the mage's own spirit."

The wolf lowered his head as he growled at Merrill once more.

"No she is not a demon!" Falon snapped back. "It's clear she is just an elf. A three day old pup could smell even that."

The black wolf snarled indignantly and even made a lunge at the ranger. But Falon didn't fall for his bluff. She held her ground and replied in an even voice, "You may be alpha, but as I've said before, this land is unclaimed by any wolf. However, I on the other hand have roamed and hunted this land long before you began suckling on your mother's teat!" The wolf snapped its jaws, but Falon continued. "Make no mistake, we are grateful for your aid, but you won't make such claims against one of our own or decide her fate."

Despite Falon's attempts, things were growing more grievous with each passing moment. To Merrill's surprise, it was Varric who stepped forward. He seemed utterly shaken by approaching the wolf, and even held his hands up as if to reassure the wolf that he was unarmed.

"Um…Falon, he can understand me, right?"

"Yes," the ranger replied without taking her sights off the wolf.

"Well, while your presence is most decidedly needed, your little parlay seems to be deescalating rather quickly. If you would be so kind as to be my interpreter, I would like to add my own words if you don't mind."

The wolf eyed him dubiously before turning to the ranger.

"No," Falon replied to the wolf. "He isn't our beta, he's…his name is Varric."

Again the wolf growled.

"No, but his voice, as well as the others', have equal weight in our group. It's simply how it is with us…."

The wolf sneezed at her explanation, but gave Varric his full attention.

Clearing his throat, Varric nodded to the creature, "As Falon was trying to say before, we appreciate the help back there. But she's right, Daisy isn't a demon. Now those things that were in the process of using us for chew toys and having a grand time in clawing us up, they are understandably not with us. You might not agree, but if you were there to see how that thing was about to bleed Daisy into the lake, you might be more willing to agree with me."

Growling softly, the wolf continued to eye the dwarf.

"He still isn't entirely convinced," Falon stated.

"Then let's see it from your perspective. We don't want to be torn to pieces and you and your wolves rely on each other to survive out here, right? Now sure, if you wanted to kill us-"

"Varric!"

"You would pretty much, hands down, win. Let's face it, you've got the upper hand, er paw. But be advised, you're facing seasoned fighters that have taken on anything from bears to a High dragon." Turning to Falon, he added, "He knows what a dragon is, right?"

The wolf sneezed.

"He does," Falon translated. "And he also wants to point out that he and his pack had the lot of you surrounded and pinned just moments ago."

"Well anyone can get the advantage when the other side is winded. But we're digressing again. Do you really think a small, little group such as ours is worth the loss of several of your wolves? Besides, from the way Falon puts it, the Arbor Wilds or Fen'harel's tomb will probably just finish us off for you."

There was what she assumed was a startled expression from the wolf. He turned to Falon and growled softly. Falon did not relay what it was saying, but eventually, the wolf gave a dismissive snort and abruptly turned. One after the other, the wolves followed behind him as they all returned to the forest.

"Is that it?" Varric asked skeptically. "He's just letting us go?"

"He thought you had a good point," Falon stated as she went to Fenris's side. "Why risk the lives of his pack members when, on the more likely chance, the forest will do it for them." With the danger now gone, the warrior dropped his sword and braced off it. Falon was soon beside him, and the warrior leaned into her as she eased him onto the ground. "Merrill, I need you and Munin over here."

Already Falon's hands were red. However, as Merrill came to help, Fenris set her with a frigid stare, "I don't need her aid or the aid of her demon."

Merrill didn't have time for the sharpness of the warrior's words to get to her before Falon jerked Fenris's attention back to her, "I don't care if the White Devine says the bird is a sloth demon, you're not going to bleed out in the cold when they can help."

Not trying to catch Fenris's eye, Merrill went to work on closing the flesh wounds along his side and around his neck. "I thought you were supposed to be resting," Fenris coughed as he tried to work the stiffness from his newly healed neck.

Falon didn't reply right away as she rubbed the back of her neck. "I wanted to stretch my legs. I though it a good idea to bring Merrill and Munin. Maybe get a deer in the process."

"Instead, you get ambushed," Fenris stated.

"I didn't sense anything amiss at the time," the ranger replied. "I left Merrill in the ruins while I tracked down a deer. I meant to return at dusk, but…that's when they came."

"What were those demons doing out here anyway?" Varric asked.

"They said they were trying to restore their master," Merrill replied tentatively.

"But it was slain," Fenris retorted. "I saw it with my own eyes."

"They said you couldn't destroy a darkness such as that," she murmured softly. "It…it will always find a way to return because it always exists in one form or another."

"That settles it the," Varric stated. "I don't care what those things said, but if they know we're here, I have no intention of sitting cozy and waiting for them to come back. From now on, we take watch in pairs. No more going out at night. We take the next day or two to rest up from this; Falon you harvest what you can during the day; Daisy, you'll patch everyone up tonight and spend the next days gathering what you need. After that, we make our final push to the tomb. Anyone have any objections to that?"

None of them did.

Shouldering the warrior, Varric helped Fenris to his feet as they followed the wolf back to the caverns of Hamin'druil. Eyeing the ruins, Falon made to trail after them but Merrill stopped her.

"Falon…that wolf…he wasn't…?"

Falon's stern gaze silenced her. But even when the ranger turned back to scout the tree line, that rigidness did not leave her. Slowly, the hunter leaned down and retrieved her staff that was still lying in the snow. Placing it back in her hands, Falon murmured, "Come, if they are hunting tonight, none of you should be out here."

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

He didn't like this…the waiting. Sure, Falon had warned him that things like this would happen, but at the same time it was just nerve wracking. But it wasn't just the demons and their abrupt return that had unsettled the dwarf. It was those wolves.

He hadn't been far off when that demon had cursed at the beast. None of them had. The demon had called those wolves servants…as in a Servants of Fen'harel.

Falon, Freki, and Daisy suddenly joined him and the elf by the fire. The ranger deposited the armload of tinder next to him as Daisy checked on their spitted fish. Once the fire was built up, Falon wordlessly began to examine the elf's wounds. It surprised Varric at the broody elf's tolerance. Usually he wouldn't allow anyone to stare at him for too long much less let them poke and prod him in the way Falon was now. She finished up quickly enough and sat down to enjoy the warmth of the fire like the rest of them, however…there was a heavy silence among their group. And Varric knew it was only a matter of time until one of them broke it.

"Falon?" Yep. Varric should have put a bet out there. Daisy was always the one to break the ice when it came to the uneasy stuff. "Falon…have you ever heard of a Servant of Fen'harel?"

He could see the way the ranger's jaw became set, but it was the warrior that spoke up first. "I heard the elves of the Artala clan speak of them before. I thought it was simply a ghost story they told amongst themselves."

Falon picked up a stray stick and began to stir the coals, but when their eyes all fell on her, she was still reluctant to speak. Eventually, she stated hollowly, "A Servant of Fen'harel is a name given to a being that acted in the interests of the Dread Wolf. In return, Fen'harel granted them power, cunning, even protection. At least…that is how the legend goes."

"Do you know the legend, Falon?" Daisy asked.

The hunter rubbed the bridge of her nose as if weary, but the distraction did not sway the mage. When Falon caught Daisy's expectant gaze, the hunter merely sighed as she spun the stick between her fingers.

"As you know," Falon stated hollowly, "some beings in the forest were favored by the Creators. Andruil had her hawks and hares. Ghilan'nain was called the Mother of the Halla. And it goes on like that for several of the others," Falon threw her stick onto the fire as she glanced at the wolf lying down next to Daisy. "What many don't know was that even Fen'harel found favor with some of the creatures of the forest."

"You mean the dire wolves of this land," the mage murmured as she buried her hand into the wolf's ruff. Freki gave a tired sigh and laid his head on his paws.

Falon slowly nodded her head. "As the stories go, the wolves of this land were drawn to the Dread Wolf. Over time, they grew in strength and intelligence. Some say that they were even given some power over their dreams."

"What do you mean?" Varric asked. "You mean like a mage?"

"Something like that," the hunter replied. "For many of the wolves here, they do not refer to the world of dreams as the Fade. They call it the Night Forest."

He didn't know why, but the mention of that name sent a shiver down his spine. Instantly he sidled closer to the fire.

"So what you're saying is that many of the Dalish, or at least the Artala clan, when they saw Freki, they thought he was a Servant of Fen'harel?"

"Yes."

"Is he?" the mage asked.

Varric couldn't help but chuckle. It was always easy for Daisy to get wrapped up in a story, and despite the weird creepiness he was getting from Falon's tale, he was still able to remember that it just a story. Yet when he glanced at the ranger, he had an uneasiness in his gut.

She wasn't looking at them, but rather the flames between them all. Finally, she looked up and stared at them each in turn, "What you have to understand is that there are many stories out there. Most are not spoken between your people or by beings which you encounter every day. But even so, you sometimes…sometimes you find the truth even when you never had the intention of seeking it out."

"What are you saying?"

"Fen'harel…was not a friend of the People, yet here, long ago, the denizens of the forest cherished the Dread Wolf. The wolves flourished in its presence. They grew into the beings they are today."

"Just like the People did when it was said that the Creators walked this world," Merrill replied softly despite Fenris's subtle eye roll. "But my people claim that Fen'harel still walks this world."

"Then why is it we seek the wolf's tomb?" Fenris asked the mage.

"Either way," Falon stated, "Fen'harel is not here. The Dread Wolf hasn't been for a very, very long time. The wolves sing of it almost as in mourning."

"Why?" the mage asked. "What happened to him?"

Falon laced her fingers together as she turned her gaze back onto the fire. It was popping softly as the snow and ice from some of the branches began to melt rapidly. "None of the wolves know. The tomb that you're looking for…that was where the wolf was last seen. Since then…."

"Are you worried what we might find in the tomb, Falon?" the mage inquired.

The hunter was silent as she stared into the fire. She threw another few bundles of sticks into the flames and then replied, "We should get some rest. We have a lot to prepare if we intend to leave in the next few days."

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

The moon had long ago disappeared over the horizon. The owls and nighthawks were making their final passes for the night. The few stars that remained offered ample light as he weaved his way through the trees. However, the memory of their earlier battle was still fresh on his thoughts. Every few moments, he would stop and listen before cautiously venturing on. Varric had been very clear that he didn't want them leaving the safety of the Hamin'druil, but the young wolf had to make sure…just this once.

His new armor along his legs clinked softly in the relatively still night. Freki was still getting used to it, but he didn't wish to raise suspicion by asking one of the others for help in removing them. Instead, Freki left them on and relied on his skill to keep himself hidden.

As he passed by the white ruins, his nose recoiled at the stench of the vardoger's dark blood. The dawn would burn away their corpses, but for now, he would side step their remains as he made his way to the frozen spring.

His hackles rose as he neared the bank. Some of the demon's blood had polluted the water, weakening it further. He had hoped that Merrill's fear and the wolves' overzealousness had caused them to discern something that wasn't there. But as he extended his senses, he could recognize it. Dark, warped, and writhing, the demon's essence still remained despite all odds.

"It's disheartening, isn't it?"

Freki jumped back from the water's edge and growled low to the intruder who had snuck up on him. But the instant he recognized the smell, he silenced himself but did not lower his tail.

"What are you doing here?" the young wolf growled to the older and more intimidating black one.

"The same as you," the alpha replied as he walked the edge of the spring to stand before Freki. "I wanted to be sure that the evil that resided in the spring was still contained."

The other wolf seemed unconcerned with Freki's defensive posture, but instead laid down nonchalantly into the snow. After a moment, black wolf turned an ear to him, "What is your name?"

Freki laid his ears back, but refused to allow himself to show such fear to the alpha. "Freki."

"An old name for such a young wolf. Younger still to wear such old and respected armaments."

Ignoring his remark, Freki growled, "And what is your name?"

At that, the wolf turned his full attention onto the other, "You have a lot of brashness to ask an alpha for his name, and to do so in such a manner. Clearly you have forgotten such etiquettes ever since becoming the two-legs' dog."

Freki stifled a growl, but still did not lower his tail. "I meant no disrespect."

The wolf merely continued to study the younger one before turning his attentions back onto the night. Taking that as a forgiveness for his forwardness, Freki joined him by the spring's edge. The black wolf was at least being civil, and Freki did not wish to undo all that the others had done by angering the wolf.

"So those that travel with you, do they understand what it is they will find?" the alpha growled.

"I think Falon does, but the others…I'm not sure." When the black wolf gave him an inquisitive look, Freki growled, "Falon is the one that is able to understand us."

"Ah, your pack's other hunter, I see. So tell me, young one, do you even know where it is you go?"

"I know enough of our legends and stories to understand."

"And even then, you follow them?"

"You do not know them. I was alone and they were the ones who called for me. They haven't left me since then."

"Yes, but is it worth it?" the black wolf growled.

"Worth what?"

"Forgetting what it means to be a true wolf?"

"I am a true wolf, even if I choose to remain with them," Freki growled obstinately.

The black wolf chuckled at his words, "You should be careful that your delusions do not blind you. Two of them may be elves, but they are not of the People. None of them are anymore, despite what the ones that reside in the forests claim. They have forgotten their way, allowed fear to guide them. You cannot put so much faith in them or you allow your own spirit to become lost and eventually collared."

At that, Freki decided he had had enough of the black wolf and the stench of demons. Rising without a word, he made to leave.

"Young one. A hunter such as yourself does not have to stay with them. If you wish, you may join my pack." Chuckling to himself, the black wolf added, "If you accept, I will tell you my name."

An uneasiness gripped Freki as he pondered over the alpha's words. Eventually, he replied, "As gracious as your offer is, I cannot accept. They are my pack. It is with them that I belong."

"So be it. But tell me this before you leave: Why was it that I initially caused so much fear in the mage?"

Freki lowered his ears and replied with a subtle growl, "She believed you to be Fen'harel." The black wolf growled softly before it escalated into a raucous howl of laughter. "What is so amusing?" Freki asked.

"These two-legs…they are so blind. They fear so much yet they do not think to search within their own shadows…."

Freki lifted his lips in a silent sneer but said nothing. Leaving the black wolf to the rest of the night, he quickly returned to the others before dawn caught him.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x

No. No he wouldn't be defeated this easily. He had carved his niche in that world eons ago. He wasn't going to let some spirited little mage, a stubborn dwarf, and an overzealous warrior with some ancient sword and a couple of loyal pets get the upper hand on him.

He was Deimos. Fear incarnate.

After his defeat, the demon had struggled to retreat back into the Fade and allow its invigorating air to fill his being as he desperately tried to collect what little of his power that was left. However, his second defeat and the loss of his minions had taken an enormous toll on him. As each agonizing moment passed, the demon let the pain and rage of it all fuel his hatred.

No. He would return. He would return, hunt them down, and derive every last scream from their miserable spirits until all they knew was the darkness and agony. And no wolf, no servant of some forgotten ghost, was going to stop him.

In the midst of mulling over his vengeance, he did not notice the shadowy form steadily circling him in-between the black trees. It was then he recognized the flow of magic here. This was its domain. How had he stumbled upon this place when he returned to the Fade and not distinguished it sooner?

As if sensing his questions, the form of this forest's keeper streaked from the undergrowth towards another swatch of trees. All the while, the steady growling never ceased. Long ago, he would have submitted under this creature's power. But not now. Not any longer.

"You," the demon hissed. "I thought you perished long ago. But seeing what's left of you now, I can see why you choose to linger here." A reverberating growl echoed through the forest as their shadows churned and shuddered. Still, the demon was not intimidated as it sneered at this being's anger, "So that's it. And just what business could you possibly have with them?"

The being merely glared at the demon with crimson eyes as it prowled through the black trees and mist.

"Well, no matter. I have already claimed them. Whatever your plans are, you can-"

Those crimson eyes narrowed on the demon as his voice began to fail him. A suffocating presence seemed to press into his chest while his legs trembled to hold his weight. The darkness. He realized now that the darkness was turning on him.

"But…I thought…how is this possible?"

With a roaring howl, the shadows, his own and the ones at the command of this being, coalesced upon him. In seconds, the demon was rendered apart and its essence cast into the mists.

With the demon utterly destroyed, there was no trace of what was left behind, and in that black forest of the Fade, not even the shadows stirred.