Three of the bandits were now dead on the ground, a fourth screaming and thrashing about as he tore at the broken arrow shaft in his throat. His efforts were only digging the point in deeper, blood and foam both dripping from his lips.

The elder dwarf crouched in the shade of the wagon, clutching the boy who, in turn, was clutching the bag he'd retrieved. Nike had slipped away from the ruined house and now was hiding in the growing wheat grass, moving around toward the horses even as bandits number five and six ominously menaced the ruined hut and called threats at it.

"Come out, missy!" the one nearest the hut shouted. "Come out and I'll only cut off a few limbs first before I take your Maker damned head!"

Crawling through the grass under the belly of the wagon, Nike rose up on the near side and stepped past the dwarves. She gave them only a slight sideways glance. The elder, eyes wide, was mouthing at her silently. The boy was just beaming.

Giving the kid a wink and placing her finger against her lips, she set an arrow to her bowstring and stepped up behind number Six.

As she loosed, the arrow sang past Six's shoulder and made him recoil. It landed in Five's back right between his shoulder blades. He collapsed, and Six gaped at her.

"Good morning," she said, and clocked him in the nose much as she'd done Alistair- but with no sleepy fumbling. Six fell back, dropping his sword and howling as blood gushed from his nostrils, but he wasn't alone.

"Maker!" Nike cried out, half stumbling back herself as she frantically shook out her hand and then cradled it to her chest. She'd never intentionally punched someone in the nose before. It was much harder than she'd thought and her hand was in agony.

Six, who had been taken by surprise but nevertheless had certainly been punched before, recovered quickly. Even with the elder dwarf's cry of warning Nike was too slow. His fist collided with her cheek and stars exploded over her vision. She hit the ground, blinking stupidly up at Six as he snatched his sword back up and swung it toward her face.

She threw her bow up to block it, the action nothing but reflex. The wood splintered as the bow was cut right in half. The string whipped a burning line over her chin as it was cut, but the sword was deflected just enough that it landed it's strike in the dirt just over her shoulder instead of through her face.

Dropping the remains of her bow she thought only that she couldn't let him get the sword back up. Her hands were already in motion before she realized that she was more likely to get her fingers cut off than stop him pulling the sword back.

She snatched at the blade and though she released it it all but instantly, fire filled her hands as her palms sliced open on its edge.

She rolled away from the blade instead, clumsily fumbling her way to her feet near the wagon.

"Get down!" The elder dwarf called and Nike ducked. The sword cut into the side of the wagon, missing her by only an inch or two, and as Six went to wrench it back out the dwarf boy suddenly threw a palmful of one of his glittery powders full on into Six's face.

He howled, releasing his sword and grabbing madly at his eyes, which appeared to be smoking. Nike grabbed the handle of the sword and gave a hard wrench, tearing it out of the wagon wood and swinging it as soon as it was free. Six's howls stopped as the sword cut through his right wrist and most of his neck. Nike lost her grip on the sword in the same moment. It landed on the man as he flopped back onto the ground, feet churning weakly against the dirt a little before they got news that they were dead, and fell limp.

Nike stared- not at the dead man at her feet, nor her broken bow, nor even at her wounded hands. She stared at Holly, who was running at a full-on gallop toward her from near the burned hut. She stared at Alistair and Leliana, who were behind the mabari weapons in hand, and starting to slow as they took in the scene. And she stared at Morrigan, who swept down from the sky as a raven and landed on her feet right near Six's dead body as a woman.

"Enchantment!" the younger dwarf said with so much giddy excitement that Nike could only keep staring, this time at him as he pulled out of the older man's hands and pointed at Morrigan. "Enchantment!"

Nike sat near the campfire as Leliana carefully poured some clean water over her sliced palms. When Nike winced at the sting, Leliana winced a little sympathetically.

"These are pretty bad," she said, setting the water aside and gingerly inspecting the cuts. "You're lucky. It doesn't look like any of the tendons are severed, but it will be weeks before they heal enough to be of any use to you."

"Not with edevas," Nike said matter-of-factly, looking over from the fire at the nearby wagon. Morrigan and the elder dwarf were busy rummaging through the packs and boxes that hadn't been pitched out of it yet. The younger dwarf was watching them from the buckboard, his eyes all but glowing as they remained affixed to Morrigan.

Alistair was not in sight- he had gone with Holly to make sure no further bandits were anywhere near the small abandoned mill.

"True, but the dwarf was not sure they had any left. I am surprised Ms. Hawke did not leave you some in your pack."

Nike's mouth hitched up at one side slightly. "Adaon gave us more than they could afford to. Much more than I could ever expect or thank her for. If the dwarves don't have any, I'm sure there'll be some at Redcliffe."

"You are very optimistic," Leliana said. Nike regarded her.

"One might say the opposite. That I've become incredibly pessimistic since I was forced to leave home."

"I did not know you until yesterday. I cannot say one way or the other, I can only comment on what I see in this moment."

"Speaking of seeing things in this moment," Nike said with another look around. "No Sten?"

"He remained behind to guard our camp."

"I won't be surprised if he's gone when we get back."

"He gave his word that he would help us, did he not?" Leliana asked, looking at her guilelessly.

"I thought you had not always been a Chantry Sister," Nike pointed out. "Do you not believe that people can lie, even when they give their word?"

Leliana laughed. "That is true, and very fair," she said. "Yes, of course he may have been lying. Somehow, though, I do not think so. He could have run away at any point since leaving Lothering, and there would have been little we could do to stop him. I don't believe he's of a mind to run away."

"That, as well, is true and fair," Nike nodded, then turned her head as Morrigan dropped down out of the wagon, a bottle in her hand. "Ah! Looks like they found the edevas."

"We did," Morrigan said, overhearing. "Though t'would serve you right if I let you suffer with those hands for a good few hours."

Taken aback, Nike frowned. "What for?"

"Lest you had forgot, you are needed to fight the Blight," Morrigan said icily, even as she crouched and all but thrust the bottle of red potion at Leliana without so much as a glance at the Sister. "Lest you forgot, there are larger matters here that must be considered, or do you truly intend to save every kitten that is caught in a tree that we happen upon during the journey?"

Nike's jaw was tight as she met Morrigan's eyes without a hint of shame. "Why not? I like kittens."

"Then you may as well take off your own head and be done with it," Morrigan said back, terse.

Before Nike could retort, Leliana spoke up. "Who knows what those bandits would have done to that poor boy and his father if Nike had not intervened? The Maker was clearly watching over her-"

"Do not speak to me of the Maker," Morrigan said heatedly, for the first time since they had met actually looking at Leliana. "You may take all the comfort you like in fanciful tales and myths. I, however, take no comfort in the idea that it might be Alistair alone to stop a very real Blight, because the only semi-competent person who can do so got herself killed in foolishness."

"You're too hard on Alistair," Nike told her. "And if you believe for one moment I'm going to let bandits hurt a young boy and his father when I could do something to stop it, you don't know me at all."

"I am not concerned with you stopping bandits. I am concerned with you doing so in a foolish manner," Morrigan told her.

"I did nothing in a foolish manner!"

"Then how are your hands cut, if you did not grab the sword blade?" Morrigan asked. "Tis foolish to grab a blade's cutting edge with a bare hand, is it not? And how are your knuckles so swollen? Are the daughters of Teyrns now trained in pugilism?"

Nike felt her cheeks heat in embarrassment and anger. She had never truly thrown a punch before, and that had been very foolish of her. It had hurt when she'd hit Alistair but she'd chalked that down to the strike being a fumbling reflex, done when she was half asleep. She'd seen men hit by others, and the punches had never caused the thrower pain that she could see, or resulted in injury to them. It had never occurred to her that throwing a punch properly was something that must be trained and practiced, like any weapon.

"No," she said. "But then, daughters of Teyrns are not trained to combat the Blight either, but it seems I must do that with little to no guidance."

"If you are going to insist on fixing all the world's problems yourself, then you must at least learn how to do it properly," Morrigan said. "You must learn to defend yourself. You cannot expect that every problem will remain neatly at arrow-distance."

Nike knew she was being petulant, but could not help herself. Morrigan had hit a bit too close to home. It had been foolish. She very well could have just shot the nearer man and then the further without putting herself into sword reach of either. She had arrogantly not expected her punch to Six to result in pain to her, and that mistake is what had nearly gotten her killed.

She turned her eyes away from Morrigan and back to Leliana. "May I have the edevas now, please?"

Morrigan threw her hands into the air and then straightened to her feet. As she stalked off back toward the wagon, Nike could see the young dwarf boy was still watching her raptly, though he had not moved from his seat.

Leliana uncorked the bottle. "Just a small sip should do," she said, and carefully tipped the potion against Nike's lips. Almost immediately, the pain in her hands began to dim. She looked down at the cuts as Leliana recorked the edevas, watching them slowly shrink and reknit themselves.

"She is a little brash," Leliana said after a moment. "But she means well, I think."

"I don't need a lecture from you too," Nike said sullenly.

"I was not going to give you one," Leliana said. "She cares very much for you, otherwise she would not be so bothered. If you want, I am happy to teach you some self-defense. Even some knife-work. I expect that Alistair would also be happy to help you with the blade."

"No," Nike said. The cuts had finally sealed themselves though her palms remained tender. That now-familiar crawling-itch was sweeping over her scalp and shoulders. A faint throbbing ache had gone from her back, noticed only in its sudden absence. She lowered her hands and shook her head. "I mean, no to the sword. I'm not interested in that. But the rest…if you would, Leliana, I would appreciate it."

"I would be happy to," Leliana smiled at her, then rose as Nike got to her feet.

The sun had risen. The sky was pink and gold, and Nike could see Alistair and Holly returning from the direction of the mill pond. Morrigan stood with her arms folded and appeared to be watching them, either not noticing her new ardent admirer or pretending not too.

The dwarf boy looked dreamy and rapt, holding his battered bag like a much younger child might hold a stuffed animal or doll. As Nike walked toward them, however, she realized the boy was much older than she had thought. He looked at least fifteen or sixteen years of age, and not a child of six or seven as his behavior made her suspect.

"Ah, feeling better I hope!" the elder dwarf called as he hopped down from the wagon and hurried over to her. Catching her hand in his he shook it firmly. "Thank you. Thank you so much, for me and my boy. I can never repay you for your help, Ms…"

"My name is Nike," she said.

"Delighted to meet you! Delighted!" he said. "I'm Bodahn Feddic, and that's my boy Sandal. I have something for you, Ms. Nike. To thank you."

"Oh, just Nike will suffice," she said, as he hurried back to the wagon and climbed in, shuffling some bags out of the way. "And I appreciate the gesture but no thanks are needed, really. I-….by the Maker, what is that?"

He had ignored her as he rummaged, and then suddenly straightened and turned toward her with a broad grin. In his hands was a stunning bow. It looked as if it had been made with a single piece of wood that had not grown from the ground, but flowed from it like water. The grip was reinforced with bands of silver and ties of pale leather. The weapon was easily as tall as she was.

Feddic held the bow out on his palms as if proudly presenting his own newly born child. "This is Far Song," he said. "She's made of dragonthorn; remarkably strong but amazingly light and pliant. Here, I want you to have her."

"I-I couldn't! It's absolutely remarkable. It must be worth-"

"A king's fortune?" Bodahn laughed. "Yes, thereabouts I'd gather. My son is worth a thousand times more, and I wouldn't have him nor my livelihood any more if it weren't for you."

"I really couldn't," she said. "You could feed your son for years for this!"

"I haven't any problems feeding my son," Bodahn told her. "I don't often deal in weapons, don't like to carry them around. Especially with Sandal and his curiosity- accidents waiting to happen I wager. I make a decent enough living on the rest to fill our bellies comfortably. Please, take it. I must insist."

She reached out her hands, but as Bodahn began to pass the bow to her the boy suddenly tore his eyes away from Morrigan and nearly fell over the back of the buckboard, reaching for the bow as well.

"Enchantment!" He declared. Bodahn hesitated and looked at him.

"Son, this isn't a toy. Are you sure-"

"Enchantment!" Sandal said again, insistently. Nike looked at him, confused. The feeling only grew as Bodahn nodded to his son.

"Ok, but down on the ground my boy."

Sandal hopped down off the buckboard, and as his father climbed down carefully with the bow in hand, grabbed Nike's sleeve with an eager bounce. "En-chant-MENT," he said giddily. Then he crouched, digging in his bag and coming out with a few pots.

"What is he doing?" Leliana asked curiously as Holly and Alistair drew near.

"Well, there aren't any more bandits that we could find, not close anyway. What's going on?"

Nike gave him a shrug and a shake of her head as Bodahn carefully lay the bow down in front of his son. Sandal had set the pots down and now drew out another pouch. Digging in this one, he came up with some tiny tiles that looked made of stone.

Now Morrigan's interest was piqued as well. She stepped over and crouched by the boy, and he beamed up at her with a dreamy, delighted grin.

"These are rune-scales," Morrigan said, her fingers passing over the top of the tiles on his palm, without touching them.

"Rune-scales?" Nike asked, and crouched as well.

"They are used in-"

"Enchantment!" Sandal told them proudly.

"Yes…enchantments and runework of a most delicate and precise nature," Morrigan continued as if his outburst was to be expected.

"But dwarves have no magic," Alistair said, folding his arms as he watched. "At least, that's my understanding."

"Runework isn't magic, at least not as you think of it," Morrigan told him. "Still, it is a skill that takes artisans decades to perfect."

"Don't ask me how, but my boy has been able to do enchantments and runework that defy belief," Bodahn said with pride. "You just watch him!"

Sandal was humming to himself as he dipped tiny tools into the paint pots and powders he had removed from his bag and began drawing detailed symbols on the rune-scales. There was no hesitation, no contemplation, and no fumble. The symbols, when complete, seemed too miniscule and intricate to have been put down so easily. Nike wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't watched with her own eyes.

As each rune was completed, it began to glow faintly. Putting his tools away, Sandal gingerly placed four of the five rune-scales on the bow; two just above the grip and two just below. As each rune-scale touched the bow it seemed to melt and flow into it, until the symbol appeared to be a carving or etching on the bow itself. Then he picked up the last, and held out his hand to Nike.

"I don't understand," she said. Moving carefully, he gently took her right hand and then turned it wrist up, and placed the rune-scale on it.

Nike hissed, more in surprise than any real sensation, as the rune flared bright and melted into her skin the same as it had into the bow. It didn't hurt. At most it felt vaguely cool for a moment before even that faded. When Sandal released her hand, she had what looked like a small tattoo of the rune that had been on the scale now imprinted on her skin.

"Well, now you'll have to take her," Bodahn said with a proud grin as he picked up the bow again and placed it in Nike's hands. "Bow won't belong to anyone else."

As the grip settled into her hand the rune on her skin and one of those on the bow glowed a moment before falling dark again. There was no pain, just a repeat of that faint, cool feeling.

"That's quite a gift," Alistair said, thunderstruck. Nike shook her head and looked at Bodahn again.

"But…what do the runes do?"

"Enchantment!" Sandal said again, as if it hadn't been clear. She looked at him and smiled.

"Yes, Sandal, I got that part, but what-"

"No use asking him," Bodahn said. "No use asking me either- I have no idea what any of his enchantments do. At least, not until later. They're always good though. Always fitting to the purpose. I do, however, recognize the rune that causes things to explode-I had to memorize that one right quick. None of these are that one, thank the Maker."

"Yes," Nike said, a bit alarmed as she looked at the runes again and imagined her entire arm exploding the moment she tried to fire the weapon. "Are…are you quite sure?"

Bodahn just laughed.