Chapter 1: Wingless Raven
"Theresa! Supper will be done in five minutes! Go find your little sister!"
"You don't have to shout!" Theresa stacked the last of the firewood. Despite the usual chilly, Lothering weather, sweat dripped from her brow. Theresa rested against the house's wall and took in a deep breath. She rubbed the blisters on her palms and sighed. Anson from the next house over wouldn't consider them cute. To her misfortune, he encountered her once after her chores, with the muggy sweaty smell emanating from her stained underarms. Theresa reddened as she recalled Anson's momentary grimace, followed by a polite smile, before pivoting his nose and gaze away.
Still, agonizing over last week changed nothing. Theresa mounted the axe on the back shed wall and shut the doors. She popped behind the shed, finding some weeds and fleeing mice. Usually Fern would be crafting mud figurines or playing with her dolls.
She considered checking Elder Miriam's house next door. Sometimes Fern wandered off there, hoping Elder Miriam had baked some spare biscuits. The sun was setting, however, and everyone knew Elder Miriam went to bed early. Besides, the smell of buttery sweet biscuits was nowhere in the air, and instead only the heavy, meaty scent of her mother's roast lingered. Theresa's stomach growled.
Theresa paced for a minute before the sight of the Kocari Wilds greeted her. Their parents warned them against entering the forest by themselves, but Fern always loved to loiter by the edge. Technically, she wasn't in the Wilds, Fern explained, but that didn't make her parents any less angry.
Amidst sickly trees, Theresa spotted bright blue and flower embroidery: Fern's favorite dress. A travelling merchant had offered fresh supplies and surplus goods, including Orlesian wares. They included a bright blue dress- the fabric itself was nothing too fancy, but the young Fern had never seen such colorful material, especially given the drab, utilitarian fashion sense of most Fereldens. Fern had begged her parents to purchase it. They relented, and their mother even spent several hours sewing in flowers, despite her lacking training.
As Theresa approached Fern, the younger sister bounced in greetings, waving Theresa over. Theresa planted herself far from the forest's edge and instead waved Fern over. Fern stomped her feet and flailed her hands. Theresa groaned, rolled her eyes, and plodded over.
"Fern, it's dinnertime. Come on. I'm hungry."
Fern held her finger to her lips and pointed off deeper into the woods. "Shhh."
Theresa squinted to see whatever Fern was pointing at. She searched back and forth amongst the gnarled trees and ever darkening skyline. Having found nothing, she grabbed Fern by the shoulder and gave a small tug. "Fern, the food is almost ready. Come on, you can smell the roast."
"I'm hungry too," said Fern, "but look!"
Theresa rolled her eyes and glanced about the forest again. She looked at her sister and gestured out with her hand. "Where's... whatever it is?"
Fern pointed her finger at the tree in front of her. "Look! There she is!"
Theresa obliged and stared forward momentarily. Before Theresa turned away from the tree, a tuft of black hair peeked out. Theresa scratched her chin. "Huh. I assumed nobody else was as foolish as you to enter the forest, Fern."
"Hi! I'm Fern! What's your name?" said Fern, beaming at the hidden girl. No answer came. Fern stomped her feet and sulked. "I've introduced myself repeatedly, and yet she hasn't done so. It's unfair."
The hair inched out, followed by a forehead and two golden-yellow eyes. The girl's gaze lingered on Fern and Theresa before she darted back behind the tree.
Theresa wondered what such a young child, not much older than Fern, was doing so far in the forest. Still, their mother would get angry if they took much longer getting back. Theresa tugged on Fern's dress. "Come on, Fern. Let's go eat dinner..."
At the mention of dinner, the black-haired girl peeped again. Theresa tilted her head. Perhaps she was just hungry?
"Hello! I'm Theresa, this is Fern!" she shouted. The girl behind the tree flinched at the louder voice. Theresa noted the reaction, and instead spoke softer next: "I'm sorry, but we have to go. If you like, we could ask our mother if you could join us for supper. Is that why you came by? Because you smelled the food?"
The dead leaves crackled under the black-haired girl's feet. After a brief hesitation, the girl stepped out from her hiding spot. Theresa scanned the girl: even for Lothering, she bore haggard clothing. Her dress was a bunch of rags sewn together, with various feathers covering some gaps. Dirt patches covered her arms and legs.
Was she homeless or an orphan? The girl seemed a healthy weight. A tad skinny, but Theresa had seen beggars in Lothering who were skinnier than the girl. Her clothes fit her well, as though made just for her. Most children in Lothering grew up with second-hand clothing from the community, often too baggy to accommodate for any future growth.
Theresa stepped forward to better assess the girl, but the girl scuttled backwards and her eyes narrowed. The black-haired girl stared at them whilst frowning. Her gaze flickered past the two, towards the village. Her fingers fiddled with the gnarled bark of the tree.
Finally, she spoke:
"Your dress. Is it comfortable?"
Fern beamed at the mention of her bright blue dress. "Yes, I love it!" she said. "My mother got it for me! She even stitched the flowers in herself! Do you like it?"
The black hair girl scrutinized Fern, lingering on her dress's flower patterns made with red velvet string. Her frown dissipated while the girl rubbed her chin and pondered in silence, but the frown returned and the girl furrowed her brow. "No."
Fern shrugged off the comment. "Oh... well, that's okay, not everybody likes everything! Like broccoli! I hate it, but my mother loves it!"
The black-haired girl stared at the dress more. She turned away again. Theresa saw a lumpy makeshift bun on the back of the girls's head.
"Were I you," said the black-haired girl, "I would avoid wearing vibrant colors in the forest. Tis unwise: my mother tells me they attract beasts."
Theresa paused and remembered her mother's words never to venture into the Wilds. She tugged on Fern to get closer to her and eyed her surroundings.
"Why are you so far out here?" said Fern.
"Colorful things."
Theresa gripped Fern's arm tighter, making Fern wince. Seeing their reaction, the black-haired girl revealed what she held: a shiny apple with gorgeous red skin, save for a small heart-shaped bruise on its surface. Theresa's grip loosened, and she let out a relieved sigh.
"FERN! THERESA! It's dinnertime! You two better not be in the forest again!" shouted their mother from outside the forest. Theresa and Fern turned around to their mother's voice and cringed.
"Oh... mother's going to be so angry," said Fern. "I'm sorry, but we have to g-"
When Fern glanced back to where the black-haired girl stood, instead only her footprints remained, indented in the pile of leaves. A raven roosted before the two girls and cawed. After taking a moment to look around, the two girls ascended the hill. Waiting atop was their mother with crossed arms and flared nostrils.
"I told you to avoid the Wilds, even the edge."
"Sorry, mother, but I had to!" said Fern.
"And why did you have to?"
Fern pointed back into the forest. "There was a girl. She might have been hungry."
"Was she from the village?" Their mother turned to Theresa.
The older sister said, "She was a little strange. Never seen her in the village before."
"A girl? What was she dressed like?"
"She was in rags. She didn't look hungry though."
Just a raven roosted on the nearby tree. It cawed again, and two other ravens joined it on the tree branch. The other ravens picked at their feathers and let their gazes wander, but the original raven stared straight at the mother and her two children. The mother eyed the raven and tugged her daughter close.
"Come on, girls. We need to go," said their mother.
Fern frowned. "But, mother, the little girl- what if she was hungry? She might need help."
"She's gone now. Let's just go."
"You said we should be kind! And help others!" Fern puffed out her cheeks and stamped her feet against the ground.
Their mother grimaced. "Fern, have you heard of the Witch of the Wilds?"
Theresa froze at the mention of the name. Fern looked up at her usually fearless big sister and frowned. "Witch of the Wilds?" Fern shook her head. "What's that?"
"They are dreadful apostates who live in the deepest regions of the Kocari Wilds... and sometimes they come out to kidnap little boys and girls and eat them. Wander too deep and you never return."
Theresa and Fern's mother grasped her little Fern's shoulders. Her voice wavered a moment, but she kept a brave smile on.
"Mommy loves you very much. She'd be very sad if the witches got you, okay, Fern?"
Fern nodded and tried to hug her kneeling mother, but her arms didn't reach all the way around. Her mother smiled, then patted her daughter's head. She picked out a stray leave out Fern's messy hair and flicked it away. Fern nuzzled in close to her mother. Her little fingers clutched tight against her mother's hand.
"Sorry, mother. I didn't mean to make you sad."
Fern's mother tried to relax her tense face and put on a brave smile for her daughter. "It's okay, my love. Let's go eat dinner." Fern's mother picked up her daughter in her arms and stood back up. Her gaze fell upon the raven. The raven tilted its head sideways, still staring back. Fern's mother sighed and turned around back home.
As the raven watched the family leave, the leaves below the tree rustled. The raven swooped onto the ground before the pile of dead leaves. The pile remained motionless until the base rustled. Several leaves drifted off, and a small foot popped out. The raven hopped towards the foot, then began pecking at it.
A muffled yelp rang out. Gangly arms and legs burst forth as Morrigan rolled out of the pile. She clutched at her foot and glared at the raven. One hand flailed at the bird, attempting to shoo it. Another clutched an apple in its grasp.
The raven cawed and pecked at the flailing hand. Morrigan winced while her eyes flitted back towards the village. The apple slipped out of her grasp: its surface shone, save for a heart-shaped bruise on the side. The raven cawed and dove at the apple.
"Wait, that's mine!" The girl fumbled for the apple, but the raven had already curled its talons around it. The bird soared right into the sky with its precious cargo.
"Stupid raven," the black-haired girl snarled. She wrapped her hands around a moss-covered rock. Morrigan held it up and prepared to throw it, but closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and let her arm fall back by her side. The raven became smaller and smaller in the distance as the girl watched it depart. The girl knelt and observed the rock's previous indentation. Several pill bugs scurried in the crevice. She took care to ease the rock back into place rather than just drop it, lest she crush the bugs.
After she had wiped the moss from her hands onto her pants, Morrigan stood back up and observed the surrounding area for any more apples or apple trees. None remained at autumn's end though; dead leaves littered the ground and the brisk cold seeped into Morrigan's bones, forewarning the first snowfall. Why had Flemeth asked her to retrieve, of all things, a fresh apple?
Morrigan needed to move quick. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and she had engaged with the other girls. If they mentioned her presence to their mother, they might contact the templars, and they'd swarm over the area. Morrigan fled deeper into the Wilds.
Each successive tree she passed grew more twisted and darkened, accompanied by pockets of noxious swamp. Morrigan intentionally tracked the pockets: acidic swamp liquid ruined boots, but the shapes of particular pockets helped track her relative location in the Wilds. The split tall tree followed the u-shaped pocket, and both indicated the correct direction to her home. In contrast, the large snaking swamp pocket hid a colony of giant crabs, which Morrigan tiptoed around.
Several hours of navigating later, Morrigan exited the oppressive shade of the Kocari Wilds and into the clearing of Flemeth's hut. She paused and looked up at the clear orange sky. Soon the night stars would glitter even amongst the dreary Kocari swamps. The young girl fiddled with the dirt on her arm and hung her head. At least she'd have the stars to look forward to tonight.
She willed herself towards the door, a slight chatter in her teeth as she dreaded the upcoming verbal lashing. Morrigan entered the hut and the familiar smell of dull, flavorless stew suffocated the hut: consisting mostly of steam and an occasional hint of coriander and swamp herbs. "Mother, I'm home," she said, taking care to avoid colliding with the various pickled specimens on the wall.
Flemeth stood before her boiling pot, continuing her stirring. She brought the ladle up and sipped the stew. While mulling the mixture in her mouth, Flemeth yanked a dried herb from a nearby pestle and tossed it into the stew, causing a peppery, sour burst of smoke. Morrigan pondered what 'nutritional value' this herb brought.
"Did you get it?" Flemeth said.
Morrigan stared down at the ground. "No."
Flemeth continued her stirring. "T'was one apple, Morrigan. You should be able to at least forage. You have working eyes and able hands."
"I know, Mother."
'Tis not like the apple would have improved the flavor of your stew anyhow, thought Morrigan to herself.
"What happened?" said Flemeth.
"… A raven stole it."
"A likely story. More likely you visited Lothering again and dropped it while running."
"I didn't drop it! The raven stole it!"
"Ha! Then the crow deserves to have it. It did not 'steal' anything. There is only survival, or starvation."
The ladle clattered onto the kitchen table. As Morrigan watched Flemeth approach, her body tensed up, and her palms went clammy. Flemeth's shadow danced and flickered alongside the flames. Perhaps if the flames went out, thought Morrigan, it would still dance. Flemeth peered at Morrigan. The little girl met her mother's unchanging gaze and flinched.
"Tell me, Morrigan," said Flemeth, "are you having dinner tonight?"
Morrigan scratched at the mud on her arm and studied the decrepit shack floor.
"Answer me, child."
"... No," said Morrigan, gripping her pants. The ragged patchwork fabric scrunched up in the gaps of her fingers. Her nostrils flared, and Morrigan tried to swallow the lump in her throat as she held back hot tears. She mustn't cry in front of Flemeth, not again.
"And why not?"
"Those who don't contribute, don't eat."
"That's right. Good girl." Flemeth nodded curtly at Morrigan. "Next time a raven snatches your supper, kill it. Then you'll have two suppers."
Morrigan took a deep breath, then shuffled off into her room. Before she escaped though, Flemeth said, "By the way, my dear- did you try to visit the village again?"
Morrigan froze in place. Her mouth went dry, but Morrigan willed her response out, albeit only as a squeak: "N-no, mother."
Flemeth cackled while resuming her cooking. "When you lie, be more prepared. Hesitation may get you killed."
Morrigan plopped onto her cot and stared up at the old roof. She rubbed her face with her hands and grumbled. What was it she could have done differently today? Her mother was right- it was just one apple. She could have crafted a more protective bag beforehand, or a poultice to throw off her scent from the birds. She should have avoided Lothering. Returning sooner would have prevented the raven's apple theft. Perhaps Flemeth would have allowed Morrigan dinner if Morrigan hadn't lied about visiting Lothering.
The moonlight shone on Morrigan's face through her one window. She bounded a thick woolen ball bounced against the wall and back into her hand, passing the time till finally the clouds parted. The ball lay motionless in her grasp while she gazed upon the stars in the sky, gleaming and glittering and distant.
Perhaps those two girls, Fern and Theresa, gazed at the same stars. The same sky.
Morrigan tugged her knees to her chest and murmured. The hut was silent, save for the sound of Flemeth's spoon clattering against her empty bowl. The sound of footsteps followed. Morrigan looked up to see Flemeth in her entryway, with her right hand hidden behind her back.
"You've been asking for lessons on how to shape-shift into a raven." said Flemeth. "Is it because they keep stealing your food?"
Morrigan growled at the memory of the accursed beasts. "They're annoying. They make noises, alerting others to my presence, and constantly pecking at the berries and fruits that I forage."
"You cannot shape-shift into something you don't understand."
"What more is there to understand? They're pests. Animals."
"Yes, they are animals, and they are often pests. Yet that level of understanding won't allow you to take their form… so tomorrow we'll begin your shape-shifting training. Only after you finish your chores and do your daily magic drills, though. With no grousing."
Morrigan perked up towards Flemeth. She nodded rapidly, a hint of a smile across her face. Without noticing, she had already edged forward with her hands gripping the cot. Flemeth smiled at Morrigan's excitement, then revealed she hid behind her back a bowl of stew. She set it down by Morrigan's cot, along with a spoon. "You will need your strength. Do not disappoint me."
As Morrigan slumbered in the other room, Flemeth rocked in her chair. The worn bottom rattled against the old wooden flooring. She twirled her finger three times. The ladle in the cauldron shimmered, and it stirred three times. A noxious smell wafted through the room. Flemeth gagged, waved a window open, and aired the room out.
Flemeth settled back down and let the warmth of the kitchen fire seep into her bones. After closing her eyes for a bit, she reached inside the pack slung across her rocking chair. The hazy orange fire glinted against the apple she pulled out. Flemeth raised her eyebrow at the bruise on the apple's surface, vaguely shaped like a lumpy heart. She bit straight in, devouring the bruise entirely.
Author notes
Been awhile since I wrote anything. It'd been a couple of years since I actually read through my last fic, Warrior, so I gave it a read. One thing I didn't like (among many things) was that I didn't really give Morrigan time to shine. It was primarily a piece about the Warden, but I still think I could have done a much better job fleshing out her character. I may do some other edits to Warrior, but I'll put info about that in my profile since it's unrelated to this piece.
Anyway, that ended up sprouting an idea to write a short prequel (around 10-15 chapters) centering on Morrigan's time in the Wilds and how she becomes the person she is in DAO, ending within the beginning of DAO. It feels like an excellent opportunity to explore some different ideas than I did with Warrior.
Hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave a review and ask questions, and I'll reply in the next author notes.