A/N: Very, very late; so sorry! I was gone the past couple of weeks, looking for the sun and I found it; it was great! Anyway, hope you all enjoy and even counting my recent adventures, Dragon Age and all its components still belong to Bioware... Can't have everything, I guess.


The next morning dawned bright and clear and very cool. The companions left the clearing in the dim half-light and were seen off by Lanaya and a woodworker and merchant by the name of Varathorn who was able to supply them with health poultices, arrows, whetstones, and a few other essentials that they might need. Lanaya had offered to fence Syd with the halla and though the beautiful stags welcomed him without trouble, he looked frumpy next to their shimmering white coats. He was happy with the fresh grass, however, and he nuzzled one of the smaller halla that immediately wanted to play with him. The companions ventured into the Forest on the eastern path and trudged along for a time in the early morning, listening to the birds waking up around them and beginning their songs. The landscape became more hilly here and a lot of the time, the path they followed was hedged in on either side with grass and shrub covered mounds. The dew soaked grass softened their footsteps and it was such a peaceful hike that when Alistair and Ffion both stiffened, coming to a stop, the others almost crashed into them.

"Darkspawn," Ffion murmured, reaching for her blades.

"It doesn't seem possible that they could be here in such a tranquil place," Wynne observed in a quiet voice as her staff was nestled into her palms.

"It's definitely not a human or Elf with the taint," Alistair replied as they edged forward slowly.

"No, it's not," Leliana fired her bow and a second later the Genlock that was clearing one of the rolling hills ahead dropped dead.

The other Darkspawn were cresting the hill now and their hoarse voices rose in unintelligible war-cries. The companions were ready for them and Tilly darted ahead with Alistair, Sten, and Oghren while Zevran disappeared from Ffion's side only to spring up in the midst of the monsters. The Warden hung back with Leliana, Wynne, and Morrigan and she was the one that called the warning.

"Wolves!" She shouted as a half dozen of the enormous beasts tore through the trees at them.

Only these weren't ordinary wolves. Their limbs were disproportionately long and as they attacked, they stood on their hind legs, towering about to Alistair's height. The Darkspawn were being driven back, but the added presence of the beasts was not helping. Sten, Alistair, and Oghren were floundering with these new foes and as Zevran drew the last of the Darkspawn away from them, one of the wolves dove at their Dwarf. Oghren was knocked off balance and fell heavily to the ground as the beast pounced on him and began tearing away at his armor. Wynne shouted and a second later, the wolf flew from Oghren and landed in a heap on the ground where it didn't move. Zevran dropped another of his tricks and the remaining four Darkspawn were enveloped in a thick smoke that hid them from view as the Elf cut them down. Sten and Alistair took on two of the wolves while Tilly bolted back to her lady as the others headed her way. Oghren jumped to his feet, his face red as anger swept through him and he was right behind the Mabari. The Dwarf's rage worked in their favor and the wolves didn't stand a chance with his wide, vicious swings.

"Are you okay?" Ffion quizzed as the last wolf was taken out and they had a chance to catch their breath.

"Eh, nothin' worse than wha' I'm used ta," Oghren replied shrugging away her concern.

Alistair was prodding one of the wolves with the tip of his boot, studying it closely.

"One thing's for sure," He said, "Zathrian was telling the truth. I never thought I'd see a werewolf outside of the storybooks."

Leliana frowned at him as she slid her bow over her shoulder and cocked her head.

"You didn't believe him?" She questioned, "Even with the evidence of those poor Elves?"

Sten rolled his shoulders and moved to stand with Ffion, his hulking presence exuding an impatience that was tangible.

"That cannot be a surprise," His deep voice answered, "Why would someone hesitate to take advantage of goodwill and trust in the discord caused by this Blight? Can we move on now?"

Ffion was smiling faintly, cleaning her red-steel shortsword and sliding it home.

"Yeah, let's-"

"Ffion?" Zevran's voice was rather faint, "Come, please, I need you."

She frowned, glancing around at everyone before she realized that the Elf was not among them. Her grey eyes scanned the trees and she finally spotted his hand waving from another dip in the path. His blond hair was just visible and the Warden hurried to him, worry gripping her heart. Their Elf was fine, but he was kneeling next to another wolf who was lying prone on the path, its chest rising and falling shallowly. Blood had stained the grass deep crimson and as Ffion crouched beside Zevran, she saw that the wolf was close to death's door.

"She is part of this curse," The Elf said, "She-"

He was cut off as the wolf suddenly spoke in a broken voice and in that mixture of common and Elvish. The words took an effort and Zevran lowered his head to hers to catch what she was saying. Her voice was rasping and she broke off now and then with whimpers of pain that caused Tilly to whine softly. Zevran nodded his head a couple of times and responded in a quiet tone, his words gentle. His amber eyes met Ffion's as the wolf lowered her head, her eyes closing in relief and something akin to surrender. One of their Elf's hands went to his belt to pull out a wicked looking knife.

"She wishes me to end it," He told Ffion, "And I prefer to not see you covered in blood, my dear."

"Oh," Ffion glanced down at the wolf in pity, her lips parting, but it was quite clear that nothing could be done for her, "Right, of course."

The Warden moved back, tugging Tilly along with her and standing next to Alistair as Zevran murmured something to the wolf and then, with one quick, experienced thrust through the heart, ended her suffering. He cleaned his blade and slid it home before untying the thick woolen scarf that had been looped around her neck and getting to his feet.

"Her name was Danyla, her husband is back in the camp, and she wished to have this returned to him," He explained, folding the scarf, which had been lovingly and expertly woven, into a small bundle to tuck into his pack, "It appears they were both hunters, in different groups, and her party was attacked while his made it home safely. The curse, if she is to be believed and there is no reason to doubt her, is not a simple transformation… Quite obviously, yes? For her to choose death over it speaks volumes."

Ffion nodded, still looking at the beast in pity. This was suddenly made even more real, hearing that one of them was named, married, and had had a good life before this tragedy… She gave herself a mental shake, feeling the others looking at her.

"Right, so let's go and end this for them," She said and then pressed on down the path.

Leliana was looking sidelong at Zevran as they fell in behind the Warden. Her blue eyes gleamed with a knowing light and Zevran arched his brows at her suggestively.

"That was a very decent thing you did, Zevran," She told him softly, "Showing mercy like that."

The Elf shrugged away her praise.

"I was putting a dying animal out of her misery," He answered dryly, his amber eyes unreadable, "There is not much to read into that, lovely. And if you are willing to believe I am softening, think again. The only softening I wish for is-"

"That's enough," Leliana interrupted, not about to be baited as the Elf baited Ffion. Her eyes remained steady on his, "You are not the impartial killer you wish us to believe. Your true colors are beginning to show, no?"

Zevran glanced at Ffion's chocolate hair and let his gaze linger on that alluring swing of her hips, seeing her in the temple in nothing but her smallclothes… And then he was winking at Leliana with a wicked grin, the implication clear there. She rolled her eyes and let out a mock long-suffering sigh, not in the least bit fooled, but quite amused.

The path went up a small incline and they were standing on what used to be a stone floor; the slabs were still visible through the moss and grass. The roof that had been overhead had collapsed long ago and the pillars that supported it were still there, partially covered with moss and crumbling with age. To their left was a short section of wall and a couple of headstones that had tilted until it looked like they would topple over completely. The path continued on ahead of the companions, but Ffion hesitated briefly, curious about the headstones. She took a half step towards them and Morrigan's voice stopped her.

"Wait, Ffion," Her gold eyes studied the place with some trepidation, "I do not like this. It is not a good idea to disturb anything here. The Keeper was right, there is an ancient magic over this place that only a fool would tamper with."

The Warden glanced back at her and then gave a nod. Wynne was on Morrigan's side of this issue and Ffion wasn't willing to go up against both of them.

"Alright let's move on, then," She said and they left the ruined temple and old graveyard.

The path sloped back down and entered a wide dip with hills once more rising up on either side. Impossibly enough, there was a little battered tent staked off the path; a tent that had clearly seen better days. Beside this was a wide trunk and the fire-ring was laid in readiness for the return of the camp's owner; it was obvious that the place was deserted. The companions still approached it carefully and Tilly snuffled around at everything, most interested in the old stump that stood between the fire-ring and the path. She was sniffing like mad and wouldn't listen to Ffion's call of her name. Instead, she was pawing at the earth around the stump's roots and whining quietly.

"Andraste's knickers," Ffion muttered, stalking to her hound, "Come on, Tilly, it can't be that interesting."

"Hold a moment, my dove," Zevran was at her side, cocking his head at the stump, and spotting the little opening at the base that Tilly was trying to shove her nose into, "She has found something, but I can't see what it is."

Morrigan let out a huff of breath and Sten grumbled in his own tongue, but ignoring them was now second nature to Ffion, and she hauled Tilly back so Zevran could crouch down and inspect the stump. He pulled away some of the growth that Tilly missed and groped in the little hole while sending a bright smile up at Ffion.

"There was something shining in here and I think our mercenary talk has had an effect on Tilly, yes?" He said, "Perhaps this will work in our favor… Now, the last time I had my hand in some dark, wet hole, I-"

"Wherever that happens to be going, just… no," Alistair interrupted as he moved to stand with Ffion. He couldn't understand this bond she shared with the Elf and he would be lying if he said it didn't make him insanely jealous, "I don't think any of us are in the mood."

"Oh no?" Zevran read the emotions perfectly in the ex-Templar's face and anymore, with what Ffion was coming to mean to him, he wasn't sure it would be so easy to step aside gracefully and let Alistair win their little Warden to him… no matter her growing feelings for her fellow Warden either, "Perhaps we should take a vote. I think that the others are more fond of my sense of humor than you believe them to be. Certainly they are more open to-"

"Enough," Ffion said tiredly, "Save the pissing contests for camp, when we don't have to work together to get through the day. Any luck?"

The Elf was grinning, his amber eyes dancing as he let out a triumphant breath and extracted his hand. Holding his palm open, he let Ffion examine what he found. Tilly yanked herself away from her lady and bounded to Zevran, her nose going straight for his hand. She knocked loose a small acorn and began nosing it through the grass to Ffion's feet. She was just bending to pick it up when there was a sharp crack and a hoarse, frantic voice was berating them.

"Thieves! They sent you, didn't they? But they won't win this one, I'll finally show them!"

The man that had shouted was probably younger than he looked, but his white hair was wild about his gaunt face and his frenzied expression emphasized the deep furrows in his skin. His clothes were torn and ratted and the stale smell of sweat and mud trailed behind him as he ran to his tent, conjuring a handful of abominations in his wake. Zevran jumped to his feet, dropping the little handful of items and sending them scattering across the ground. He was fighting shoulder to shoulder with Alistair as they defended Ffion and she was busy watching their backs with Tilly while the rest of the companions jumped into the fray. Sten leaped at the old hermit who slammed his worn staff into the ground, a bubble of pure energy surrounding him. The Qunari skidded to a halt and swung his sword, which merely bounced clear, and Morrigan came to his aid.

"Sten!" She shouted.

The witch knocked one of the abominations towards him and then transformed into a giant bear that knocked the hermit from his feet with one swipe of her paw. Oghren was ready with his battleaxe, seeming to materialize from the very air and as soon as the man was dead, the remaining abominations disappeared. Ffion was just diving at one with her swords ready and she was caught of guard, falling painfully to her knees. She swore under her breath, feeling Alistair as he came close.

"You okay?" He asked, one hand going under her elbow.

She smiled up at him rather wanly, letting him help her. His honey eyes were concerned and his hand was supportive.

"Fine, that just… kind of caught me by surprise," She pulled away rather reluctantly and glanced around at everyone, trying to ignore the knowing gleam in Zevran's eyes, "Anyone want to take a guess at what his problem was?"

"His magic was old, like the Forest," Wynne answered patiently, watching as Leliana crouched to rifle through the hermit's pockets, "But it was clear he was a little…"

"Touched in the 'ead?" Oghren offered with a grin.

"Just that?" Sten was almost joking as he arched his brows at Ffion and Alistair, "What do you think that acorn means?"

Morrigan, herself again and brushing some dust from her blood-red top, spoke without looking up.

"Wynne said an old magic, yes? That acorn holds the same enchantment. There must be some meaning behind this."

Zevran had moved over to pick the lock on the trunk and Oghren was watching with interest.

"Ya sure it's worth it?" He asked as the Elf inserted his slender lockpick and worked nimbly.

"There is only one way to find out, yes?" Zevran replied as the lock clicked and he tipped the lid up.

There wasn't much: just a few changes of clothes that the hermit had obviously never used, a small purse with a handful of coins rattling within, several wolf pelts, and three loaves of very stale bread. The Elf tossed these out for the birds and whatever else might eat them, pocketed the coin purse, and left the rest where it was.

They pressed on, the sun still rising steadily and warming as it slanted through the trees. There was a split in the path, one side leading into more of a clearing while the other was more forested. Ffion, thinking that more woods could possibly mean the center of the copse, turned that way. The hills fell away from the path in the thicker woods and they could hear running water as they ventured deeper into the Forest. They rounded a bend and were just about to cross a makeshift wooden bridge that spanned the rushing creek when Tilly began growling and three werewolves appeared to block the path.

Ffion heard the others pulling loose their weapons and she flipped her swords into her palms as the wolves stood on their hind legs and glared down at her. One of them stood forward, his eyes a startling bluish-green in the ruddy brown-furred face, and when he spoke, it was in the Common tongue.

"Hold, human," His voice was sharp and hoarse, "You will go no further. We have been watching you and know that you fight with skill. We don't wish anymore of our people dead."

Ffion studied him and it was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what the hell he was, if he wasn't an Elf, but she pushed the urge aside and instead arched her brows, her hands tightening on her swords.

"That would have worked better if your people told us at the beginning," She said dryly, "So there's another part of this story? Shocking. What's your role in it?"

The wolf drew himself upright and it was such a man-like thing to do, it surprised Ffion. His blue and green eyes, so vibrant, flashed with impatience.

"You are in no position to make demands of us," He snapped, "You don't understand everything in this tale, human, it would be wise to second guess that traitorous Elf. He hasn't been honest with you."

"And you are being honest?" Her question came immediately, her grey eyes fastened on his face, trying to read any expression in his gaze.

He snarled as a way of giving her a wicked smile and made Tilly growl even more fiercely. One of those long, hand-like paws waved at the two wolves behind him, and they were lowering to all fours, beginning to retreat.

"Yes, human, I am being honest," He sneered the words, "And to prove it, I will not attack you, just leave you with a warning. If you persist in this quest, all of you will die. Your fate is in your own hands."

The wolves took off, running gracefully as deer even though their long limbs appeared so ungainly. The companions relaxed a little, but didn't put their weapons away; no one could say for sure that the creatures had left them completely alone. Leliana was the first to speak, breaking the wondering silence.

"Well, what now?" She asked, her voice soft as though the Forest itself was listening in on this conversation, "It is only his word that Zathrian was dishonest, but how can we trust anything any of them might tell us?"

"We can't," Alistair answered, glancing down at Ffion who looked thoughtful, the little crease between her brows evident as she considered the wolf's words, "Do you want to press on or go back and see what the Keeper has to say?"

She gave herself a little shake, touching the small lump in one of her belt pouches and knowing without a doubt that that the little acorn there would help to answer some of those questions.

"We'll keep going," She replied and slid her swords away. She carefully walked across the wooden bridge, feeling the slight give in the old, wet wood. Glancing over her shoulder, she warned, "Go one at a time, I don't know how much weight this can handle."

Tilly plowed across it and started snuffling around in the grass and the others crossed without trouble. They pressed on through the trees, finding a few more Darkspawn and a few groups of wolves. Luckily they didn't run into the problem of facing off with both groups at once and they reached the next fork in the path with relative ease. One fork led north for a short jaunt before turning towards the eastern portion of the Forest while the other continued to wind to the south, into a copse of oak and alder. Ffion hesitated for a moment and Tilly trotted on ahead, nose to the ground, inspecting the southern route. Her lady shrugged rather comically at her companions and then followed after the Mabari. The path was wide and grassy and the trees gradually grew closer to the borders of it. They had gone maybe halfway towards the copse when suddenly there was a creak and groan of timber as though a gust of wind had just blown through the trees. Morrigan shouted the warning, her staff erupting with power as two of the trees came to life. Impossibly, their roots formed two wads that resembled feet and their upper branches whipped through the air as they twisted to attack the companions. The bark of the upper portion of the trees was twisted and gnarled into what could pass for faces and Wynne and Morrigan were quick in their attempts to debilitate these monsters. Both of them conjured fire balls, hurling them into the uppermost branches while the others did their best against the strong trunks. The witch hit one of the weakened trees with her string of boulders and there was a tremendous crash as the rocks ripped the trunk in half and the tree hit the path. She let Wynne douse the flames with water as she focused her attention on the other tree and repeated her efforts. It worked just as well as the second time and Ffion was blinking through the smoke as she studied the trees in amazement.

"Wild sylvans?" She said in disbelief, "And here I thought it was just a joke. Who would've thought that demons would want to possess trees?"

"Maybe they just get tired of the hierarchy in their world and want a little peace and quiet?" Alistair offered with his crooked grin, making her chuckle.

"It looks like this path just loops back around, Ffion," Leliana was saying, looking beyond the wreckage of the trees and studying the path ahead, "Should we try that other fork instead?"

The Warden followed her gaze and studied the enormous oak that stood between the little stream and the path. It towered well over the other trees in its copse, its branches thick and gnarled by time, growing close together, and making for an excellent climbing tree. She stepped over the tree limbs in her way, sheathing her swords, and answering the Orlesian over her shoulder.

"Just hang on for a second, I want to see if I can spot anything from this tree up here."

They followed her and were within a few yards of the oak when it too began moving. Weapons in hand, the companions waited for the thing to begin its attack and stared in wonder as it spoke instead.

"What manner of beast be thee, that comes before this elder tree?" The tree spoke in a male voice that echoed through the Forest and rumbled through the roots. It seemed to sigh like the wind and it belonged to the rustling leaves, coming at the companions from every angle.

Morrigan and Wynne both let out soft gasps and the witch spoke first.

"A rhyming tree," She said wonderingly, "Flemeth spoke of such things, but they were merely stories. I never thought…"

Wynne finished that thought as Morrigan's voice trailed off.

"Another legend come to life," She murmured softly, "It's extraordinary."

Ffion felt that the tree was, well, sort of watching her from that whorl in the bark that resembled a face. She was confused by his question, but she took a stab at an answer anyway.

"What manner of beast?" She repeated as she sheathed her swords and straightened herself, eying the tree and wondering if maybe it couldn't see clearly, "I'm not a beast, I'm human."

"Ah, yes," The tree shifted with a creak of wood and a dull thud that rumbled through the ground beneath their feet, "I remember thy kind, so brief of life and all but blind, to the perils you cause, the lives you take. Such chaos is sown within thy wake. Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree. And unless thou thinks it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?"

"A boon?" Ffion cocked her head. The tree was fascinating and she couldn't help but want to hear it speak again.

"It wishes for a favor," Sten clarified, but his voice wasn't nearly as sharp as usual, "Like everyone else we have come across."

The oak straightened a little, creaking and swinging his limb-arms as though waving in agreement.

"I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire," He replied, "As I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn. All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out, yet I shall die if left without."

Ffion smiled, pleased with herself for hanging on to that acorn. She dug into the pouch at her belt and tugged it out. Stepping forward into the oak's shadow, she extended her hand.

"Do you mean this one?" She asked.

One of the smaller branches reached down and Ffion gently pressed it into a knot that marred its young bark. The oak stood back again and sighed. When he spoke, his voice was softer, lighter; it was clear he was thrilled.

"My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed!"

Alistair frowned in concentration at the oak and he stepped forward next to Ffion.

"You must have been… rooted here for some time," He said slowly, "Do you know where the werewolves came from? Or could you tell us where Witherfang is?"

"In the center of the Forest, the weres do dwell or so go the tales my fellows tell. But they cannot be followed there, the Forest doth protect the weres," The oak seemed happy to have company and was more than happy to answer their questions.

Ffion shifted her weight as Tilly leaned against her. A frown creased her forehead and she picked up Alistair's track.

"Protect them?" She quizzed, "Protect them how? What spell is over this Forest that would hide a clan of werewolves?"

"Perhaps weres use the magic to command the trees. All I know is they move as they please," He gave what could pass for a shrug and then added, "And for the magic… A great war perhaps, I cannot tell. I was not here when it befell, but many deaths here, all the same. And with the deaths, the spirits came. The spirits entered corpse and tree and most went mad, as thou canst see. The Forest had a spirit of its own, from back when its first seeds were sown. Perhaps she died of grief that day, or perhaps she simply went away. Or perhaps the weres are the ones to blame, for the day she left is the day they came."

The Wardens were thinking that one over and it was Wynne who made the observation.

"The spirit disappears and the werewolves come," She said softly, thinking out loud, "And Zathrian said that Witherfang has been leading the wolves for an age… Do you think that this spirit and Witherfang are one and the same?"

Alistair shrugged at her as Morrigan looked thoughtful and Leliana nodded her head in agreement. It was easy to see the wheels turning in Ffion's head and she looked up at the oak speculatively.

"You clearly have magic of your own," She said slowly, "Do you have anything that could maybe show us the way to the center of the Forest?"

"My wooden skin has some magic, see, and part of it I can give to thee," The oak's branches were waving again as it searched for the right branch to give to the companions. It finally found a suitable one and with a little snap broke it cleanly from a larger branch. Handing it to Ffion, he added, "Here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee and pass throughout the Forest free."

Ffion felt the same little thrum of magic through this simple branch that she had felt with the acorn and she gave the oak a little bow.

"You've been wonderful," She said with a bright smile, "And your copse is lovely. I wish you many more years rooted here."

The oak bent into what was unmistakably a returning bow and stood back again. They could hear his roots shove through the earth as he nestled into a spot of sunlight.

"I wish thee well, my mortal friend," He said and his voice was much softer this time, "Thou brought my sadness to an end! May the sunlight find you, thy days be long; thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong."

Ffion smiled again and kept the oak branch clasped in one hand. She glanced behind her at the others and arched her brows a little.

"Let's go and see if the werewolves can top that."