The mountain crevasse provided suitable, temporary protection from the elements. The tents were erected in a wide semi-circle around the cache of items they managed to salvage from Haven. Inventory was taken, rations were portioned out among the survivors, warnings were given about both cold and beasts, and they began to wait.

For the first night, they remained cautiously optimistic. A guard was posted at the mouth of the mountain pass, watching for some sign of movement from Haven below. The great blanketing snow had extinguished the light from both the fires and the torches of their foes, making it difficult to discern if anything still moved in the valley. One false sighting, determined to be a wolf darting among the trees, had made the gathering both nervous and a bit giddy. Laughing and assuring themselves that she would make her way through the snow at any moment, faces falling the instant they broke eye contact.

By the second evening, the mood had turned grim. The snow began, obscuring the path they'd forged and blanketing the entire area in slippery white ice. Most stayed in their tents that night, wrapped in pelt and wool to stay the chill. Solas remained near the central command, pretending to study his book near the fire as he listened to the inner circle fret.

"She should be here by now," Cullen's voice, steely and stressed. "If she's fallen... Maker, how can we forgive ourselves?"

"She knew what she sacrificed. She did it for her people." Cassandra, always the voice of reason, even when it was wholly inappropriate.

"We'll have to decide how to announce this," Josephine kept her voice low. "The people will want a memorial. Perhaps some sort of statue or-"

"Are we truly discussing entombing her? Before we're certain?" Cullen's voice broke, the audible emotion making Solas' blood run cold. So his suspicions were accurate. There were feelings, buried beneath all that shiny steel and hair. "I'm not going to stay here and listen to you plan a funeral."

"Cullen!" Josephine's voice again, harsh this time. "Stop. It would be suicide to go out there."

Solas rose to his feet as the commander stormed past, Josephine in tow. "I could go with him, Ambassador. Provide light, protection."

Cullen opened his mouth to protest when a sound caused him to pause. Wolves, baying in the distance. "Sweet Andraste. If she's out there, they'll tear her to pieces."

"The wolves will not harm her." Solas felt their stares. "I set wards, while you four argued your way up the mountain." The statement was not exactly untrue, just less complicated than the whole truth.

Josephine's face clouded for a moment, then she composed herself. "Thank you, Solas. I-"

A cry interrupted whatever meager apology was coming. "It's her!"

The call echoed through the steep valley where camp lay. Commander Cullen, Cassandra, Josephine, the Spymaster all running through the thick snow. Solas followed cautiously, ignoring the hitch in his breath when he saw her crumple at the top of the hill. Cullen took her in his arms then, sliding back down toward the encampment. Making his way around the pole that held his own shelter, Solas watched as they disappeared into the flaps of the command tent. Josephine emerged a few moments later, gesturing to Mother Giselle. He stayed at a distance until the revered mother rushed inside, tailed by two of attending sisters.

The lady ambassador was a portrait of despair, her hand on her forehead, pacing.

"Is she going to be all right?"

Josephine started at his voice. "Master Solas. I didn't see you there." She sighed. "She's alive, which is a miracle all its own. How did she… nevermind. What's important is that she's here. Now. I'm sorry," she focused her attention back on Solas. "Did you need something?"

"I thought perhaps I could help."

"Help?" her eyes widened. "We have capable healers, Solas. I don't know that she needs a mage."

"Her mark," he said quickly. "I am wondering if anything has changed. After, I mean."

"Oh. I'm sure there will be time for that… after we know how she..." Josephine shook her head quickly. "She needs to rest, regardless. I will keep you informed. I am sure everyone appreciates your concern."

Solas took a step back. "Of course. Please let me know if I may be of service. I hope she is well."

Securely inside his own tent, he lay flat on his back on the pallet and stared up at the rough fabric above. His heart thundered, blood warm in his ears and he fought hard to steady his breathing, repeating a mantra over and over in his head. Willing the words to become true.

You're relieved she's alive. Nothing more. Because she is the Inquisitor and possesses the mark. You're relieved she's alive. Nothing more. You're relieved she's alive. Nothing more. Nothing more. There is nothing more.

It was late the next morning when Cassandra approached him. "Josephine said you had some interest in the mark?"

"Of course. I wanted to see if perhaps something had changed after her encounter. If it has spread, or stopped. If it has the power to seal such a breach again, should the need arise."

The wind picked up, upsetting the horses. Cassandra made a disgusted sound. "You think we'll have to close another hole in the sky?"

Solas regarded her solemnly. "I do not know. I would hope to find out."

Cassandra nodded toward the command tent. "Then let us find out." Solas followed. Your interest is in the mark. Your interest is in the mark. Nothing more. Nothing more.

She did not wake that first day. He dismissed those who questioned his presence by reminding them that they did not fully know what might have befallen her at Haven. "What if the mark has been altered?" he asked in irritation. "Would you have me risk the safety of the entire camp?" They didn't need to know that the mark was as stable as ever, pulsing with less frequency now that the large breach had been sealed. No electric crackles of light disturbed her deep rest, aided by a foul-smelling concoction the healer had brewed the night before last. She slept, seemingly undisturbed by the extent of her injuries: more than one broken bone, a dislocated shoulder that had to be reset, several abrasions and bruises. Best that she sleep until the bones had begun to knit, resolving from sharp pain to a dull ache. Her recovery would be lengthy, and he hoped she awoke well enough to travel to a proper place to convalesce.

He happened to have such a place in mind.