Falherna walked beside Solas, in blissful silence, peeking at him from time to time. He was taller than her for about ten centimeters.

He walked in an erect way, slightly swaying, his moves were quiet and deft, like animal's.

He had a charming profile, with a long straight nose and high forehead. She looked briefly at his full lips wondering how to encourage him to speak.

She had so many questions she wanted to ask him, but she didn't know where to start. She had no talent of conversing easily with people she had never met before.

Falherna found a great contrast between simple apostate she met three days ago and a man accompanying her now. His posture could appear either as a proud or a cold one, but the sadness she discovered earlier in his eyes forced her to reconsider the first impression and observe the elf closer.

They looked at each other at the same time, and each of them has opened their mouth to speak.

"Please, you go first," he proposed with low, quiet voice.

Falherna nodded and went straight to the point "I want to thank you for saving my life".

"It was not only my doing," he said sending her a brief glance, "I am glad that I helped".

He was considering something for a moment, looking into the distance and she turned her head giving him time. Apparently, he wanted to ask her about something.

"How do you know, master Thetras?" she heard his voice when they were passing by the main gates.

"From Kirkwall" she replied shortly as she breathed deeply into her lungs the fresh mountain air and looked at the sky.

"Ah... so I assume you know the Champion too" he stated not looking at Falherna.

"Yes. Her companions and siblings too" she added.

"Then it is good that the Seeker cannot hear us" Solas looked at her smiling slightly and she felt a tingling sensation in her stomach when she returned his gaze.

The feeling of familiarity hit her again. She had almost perfect memory of the faces and eyes which she considered the best source of knowledge about people.

The certainty with which she was sure she saw Solas' eyes before filled her spirit. She needed to establish where and when she met him if she wanted some piece of mind.

"I am assuming she is still trying to force Varric to reveal Hawke's place of residence?" she asked quickly averting her gaze.

People often considered her a phlegmatic and retarded person because of her lingering looks. They could not even suspect it was a sign of a deep thinking process and an intended method to study their gestures or mimics.

"Vainly," Solas said simply.

"You were close when the explosion took place?" she asked lightly, curious if he will answer the question.

"I was. I'd come to hear about the Conclave, but did not want to get close" he explained, "When I went to see the Breach for myself I've heard about elder woman with a strange mark, deciding I could help".

"Lucky for us, then" she sent him a small smile and focused on the surroundings, thinking about Fen again.

It was possible he was somewhere in the forests near to Haven. Hopefully, now when it was obvious that the trial will not take place, Falherna could plan how to find the wolf.

She just needed to close the Breach and leave Haven behind.

"It is not exactly a field hospital, but it is better than nothing" she muttered under her breath when they reached a broad tent constructed with a single slope on each side of the ridge supported at the end by a gable triangular portion of an end wall.

"I believe they don't have enough resources" Solas answered calmly lifting the tent flap and inviting her in with a gesture.

"Not enough resources for injured? Shocking" Falherna puffed with an irony as she entered a tent.

The place was soaked with a smell of elfroot, dawn lotus, and blood. She quickly counted nine injured soldiers.

A man with black, bushy beard ran from one wounded to another looking around nervously. When he saw Falherna, he came to a sudden stop.

"Herald, good to see you awake and healthy" he spoke to her as if he knew her.

"Excuse me, do we know each other?" she asked reaching out for a leather strap, binding her hair in a braid as she observed a man.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You probably don't remember me. I watched you while you slept. How do you feel?" shemlen came closer to look at her.

"Good, so far. If you don't mind we wish to start" she said pointing at the injured men.

"Yes... yes... of course" he started to walk away but halfway he remembered something "Herald," he looked at her shyly "I would like to talk to you in private... later".

"We will speak when I'm finished here" she answered.

"Thank you. The pharmacy is located on a hill, next to the Chantry" he said, "Now, I will leave you. We need more healing potions" he explained directing himself to the exit.

She nodded and turned to Solas who already kneeled over one of the beddings.

"How deep?" Falherna asked as she bent over to look at the wound.

An arrow had lodged in soldier's leg. Solas looked briefly at Falherna while he tried to check if the arrow went inside out. By his frowned expression, she could tell he was not sure how to handle it.

"Let me take care of this" she proposed kneeling next to him. He moved over to give her more space.

"It was a long time since I healed that kind of wound. If you don't mind I would like to watch?" she heard his calm, quiet voice.

Explanations were unnecessary so Falherna ignored it.

"Please, wash your hands first," she asked him as she cut the injured's trouser-leg with a small knife she bore beside her belt "I will need you here."

While she waited for Solas she took off her cloak throwing it on the empty bedding behind her. She quickly uncovered soldier's leg and examined the wound.
An arrow went inside out and she assumed there was a high probability to rescue a man's leg.

"Can you please bring fresh water and cotton fabric?" she looked at Solas. He nodded and handed her what she asked after a while.

Then he kneeled next to her ready to act.

"An arrow needs to be cut and pulled out from the body," she started to explain quietly while her moves were concentrated on the task.

"Ma serannas" Falherna thanked the elf when he helped her with cleaning man's wound from the blood.

"We need to use magic since we don't have any free elfroot" words were directed towards Solas.

"Shhh. Everything is going to be alright" she whispered to the young man, stroking his hair when he opened his eyes. He had a high fever and Falherna could not be sure if he could see her.

"Please hold his leg" Solas bent over and grabbed man's leg keeping it in position.

Falherna anesthetized the soldier with magic and broke the arrow with one quick move.

"Ir abelas" she looked at man's face pulling the arrow out of his leg.

"I saw you're using fire magic, hahren" her voice was calm. She was wiping soldier's forehead. After a while, she realized how she called Solas and she slowly looked at him wondering if she will see disapprovement in his eyes.

He seemed surprised but pleased "I am, da'len" he answered.

She nodded and cleaned the open wound asking Solas to burn it. Falherna oiled his leg with antiphlogistic salve.

"Done" she murmured resting her gaze on Solas, it lingered on the elf longer than necessary. For the first time since they met, he was so close to her. Not until now did she notice rare freckles on the wide nose and a dimple in his chin, which sparked the urge to dip her fingers in it.

He smelt like wood, smoke, wool and leather and the heat radiating from him was alluring. She felt a glimmer of electricity between them, time stopped for a few second and again she thought that she knew those eyes, scent, and this man.

She called herself to order and focused on the soldier laying in fever.

"Can you put him to sleep, hahren?" she asked and her question sounded softer than she intended. It sounded almost intimate.

Solas averted his gaze and did as she asked without hesitation.

They worked in silence with other injured. Their movements were synchronized in a way she never saw before. And even though they were close to each other and the situation conducive to physical contact she avoided it at all costs.

"Apothecary brought this" Solas handed over a fresh elfroot and some healing potions.

"Good. As you probably know roots can be used with very little preparation. Rubbing some of the juice on the wound will speed up healing and numb the pain" she smiled as she prepared the root for the last wounded soldier.

"True" she heard.

"True that I guessed you knew it already or that the root can be used as I explained?" her question was thick with impassiveness. Monosyllabic answers were not her favorite. Probably because she preferred to answer in the same manner.

Solas chuckled quietly surprising her "Both".

The sound of his voice was highly distracting. Her hand shivered slightly and Falherna looked at him out of the corner of her eye content that her reaction remained unnoticed.

When they finished their work it was dark and first stars started to appear on the sky.

"Thank you, hahren" they left the tent and moved towards the main gate.

"It's me who should thank you, da'len. Although I considered myself a healer, you taught me a lot tonight " he smiled.

His cottage was next to the pharmacy and when they approached it Falherna hesitated.
She did not want to say goodbye. Not yet.

The last few hours spent in his company were, against her better judgment, very pleasant. She felt strong emotional attachment that seemed so natural at that point, yet so foreign.

She could not even pretend it was some form of elves' solidarity. She knew it had nothing to do with Solas's race.

"Thank you once again. Goodnight" he smiled.

She clasped her hands behind her back "On nydha, Solas" she answered not returning his smile.

After a while, when the doors closed behind him she moved slowly to the pharmacy.

She had mixed feelings. The sound of his voice lingered in her mind. The weight of his name on her tongue was prominent.

She was here, in Haven, with the sole purpose of closing The Breach, no to pursuit the elder, elven apostate.

After a talk with Adan at the pharmacy, who had claimed to be serving as a healer somewhat reluctantly, seeing himself as more of an alchemist who creates various types of potions, and a demonstration on how to upgrade them, she had made a promise to bring him the notes from the cabin west of Haven.

Falherna had one more thing left to take care of with Adan before she would go to the tavern. She relayed the state of wounded soldiers to the grumpy healer and was happy to be off.

The village was almost empty. Few shemlens in the courtyard talked loudly. Falherna glanced towards them deciding they were not a threat to her.

She scanned the region of the tavern with narrowed eyes. Men would not be so stupid to accost the Herald of Andraste, still, she covered her body and hid her face under the hood as she walked toward the "The Singing Maiden".

"Hey, there, little pecker" hoarse, male voice behind her was full of alcohol and impure thoughts.

When Falherna discovered that Varric was not in the tavern, she ordered a small barrel of mead intending to surprise her dwarven fellow.

She ignored the drunken man focusing on the tavern's oaken bar as she placed her hands on the counter and drummed her fingers lightly while waiting for the innkeeper.

"I am talkin' to you!" she heard as the heavy hand rested on her arm.

Falherna counted to five. Shemlens' touch was the most hated thing for her but initiating a fight would be ill considerate.

"Little pecker indicates that you've been talking to the small fellow in your breaches" she answered sharply. Her hands clenched into fists.

"Now, please, take your hand away from my shoulder" her voice was cold and low.

From the other side of the alcove, a burst of laughter reached her ears. She had sensed the second man before, obviously. His wheezing breath has given him away.

"Show her how to keep mouth shut!" he encouraged his companion.

Men's fingers tightened on her arm. She shook her head and laughed with bitterness. This bastard should be killed by demons who came through the rifts in the first place. In the meantime, innocent women and children were dying and this asshole survived. The perversity of fate was predictable and twisted.

Falherna flinched, then straightened to face the source of her actual aggravation. Scamp was shorter than she and at least six years younger. His green eyes winded when he looked into her face.

"What are you doing, Dave? Leave Herald alone!" innkeeper came back with a barrel for Falherna closing the door of the cellar.

"Andraste preserve me! It is you!" he shouted in shock taking his dirty hand away in one quick move "I... I am sorry" he apologized while his companion stood up and grabbed his arm pulling him towards the exit.

"Next time I will show you how to keep your mouth shut, Dave" Falherna hissed back at him as she watched both men.

"Herald, forgive him. He is a good man, he just drunk too much" the woman looked at her with contrition while she tried to hand the barrel over.

"Let me" Falherna went behind the counter and lifted the barrel.

Listening to the excuses wasn't interesting enough for her to even consider honoring her with an answer. Men who became aggressive when drunk should be mature enough to find another entertainment for themselves.

Dave had problems so he had been drinking. She saw it too often in the past to believe in "he is a good man, he just drinks too much" explanation. Presumably he, together with his friend, would take advantage of her or worse, and for her it meant he was not a good man.

Such a waste of time and energy detested her. Aggressive men with a tendency to bother innocent women detested her even more.

"Dave has now a new problem," she thought deciding to watch him closely during her stay in the village.

"What is your name?"

"It is Flissa" the woman smiled at her.

"Thank you for the intervention and a mead, Flissa" she sent a dim smile towards the woman "Goodnight".

Falherna took her leave carrying the barrel under her arm.

"So, Brighteyes where's your tame elf" Varric stretched his legs and took a long sip of mead that she had delivered.

"In Tevinter, I suppose" Falherna rubbed her hands standing next to the fireplace. The cottage taken by Varric was small and modest with very little furniture all residing within the few steps of each other.

"Meaning you finally admitted he is yours" the dwarf laughed out loud.

She sent him a glance as she unknotted her braid "Did I?".

She hid the leather strap in the pocket of her tunic and sat down by the table pushing her goblet to Varric.

He filled it with beverage looking at Falherna with a lifted brow and a sneaky smile on his face "You did by ignoring the word "your"".

"I'm not telling you anything but this: you will not mention me at any chapter of your next book. Just like you did with 'The Tale of the Champion'" her lips curled into a small smile, but her gaze stayed serious.

"Don't look at me that way, Brighteyes. I was just asking for science purpose" he lifted his hands in surrender "You know I will not do it".

She nodded and rested her back on the chair closing her eyes.

"Are you holding up all right?" the tone of the question startled her. Care in his voice was unmistakable.

"I am good" Falherna answered between sips. She had put aside her goblet touching her marked palm with a thumb as she looked at Varric.

Her friend seemed confused watching her with frowned expression. He bent over the table resting his weight on his elbows to get a closer look at her.

"You are bothered by the lack of emotional reaction?" she read it in his gaze.

"Well, after the events in Kirkwall I should get used to it but..." he hesitated for a second "I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day. Aren't you, I don't know, afraid?" he did not even try to hide his perplexion.

She sighed. A long silence fell between them while she was wondering how to explain something so obvious. Something they have been discussing many times before.

"I find fear being an unproductive factor, dulling my judgment and concentration, Varric." she shrugged looking at the dwarf innocently.

"You are not like most people" he shook his head with mistrust.

"I am trying not to be" she sent him a shrewd smile.

He laughed out loud tossing his head reaching for his goblet and filled it again when the burst of laughter passed.

"What can you tell me about Cassandra and apostate? But..." she pointed a finger at him as she took another sip of beverage "... be so kind to omit the part about being her prisoner. I know how it is from personal experience" she giggled.

The warm mead was fulfilling its function.

The dwarf scratched his cheek clearly searching for right words to describe Cassandra.

"The Seeker is a harsh woman without a sense of humor, I must admit," Varric smiled.

"Maybe she doesn't find your jokes funny?" she replied without smiling.

"More drinking, less talking, Fal" his face contorted in a grimace of displeasure while she could catch sight of amusement in his eyes.

A short snort escaped her mouth "And the apostate?".

"That man knows all there is to know about everything," Varric answered as they moved to sit on the floor next to the fireplace.

Falherna's eyes fixated on the flames as she waited for the dwarf to continue. He was quite a talented observer and she always took his opinions into consideration.

"Sadly, no personal history," he looked over to Falherna "I would say he reminds me of you. Tight-lipped, stiff, often lost in his own thoughts."

"Hmm," murmur was the only answer she could come up with. Avoiding Varric's gaze she lifted goblet to her mouth.

"A strange man. Addicted to the Fade but what's comforting, he is rarely manifesting an ironic sense of humor," he added.

"Oh well! To your health, Storyteller!".

"But I'll tell you, Brighteyes," he started again after a while "I can bet he doesn't know anything about women despite all of his wisdom" Varric winked at her.

"Ah, and you are a real specialist in this matter," she said jokingly changing the subject.

"What can I say, Fal. Women cannot resist my charm!".

"I will not dare to deny it" she laughed stretching her body.

After Varric directed her to her cottage, and a short bath Falherna looked at the shemlens' bed with dislike. In a few minutes, she created a small place to sleep opposite the fireplace.

She lay down readying herself to sleep and closed her eyes. There was so much information to process.

Varric told her about the people of Haven and Cassandra's company. Apparently, next day was going to be busy for her. More shemlens. More meetings. More questions.

She sighed and rolled over on her back looking at the ceiling. Her mind worked slower after drinking, her attention was scattered. Still, she was well aware that during forthcoming days a change in her behavior will be needed.

Answering few questions or initiating few conversations would not make her any harm. An image of Solas' face appeared in front of her eyes.

Falherna growled as she changed her position again on this imitation of the bed she had made so quickly. Restraining her self-control seemed the best solution if she wanted to take some sleep.

Her mind reminisced of the elf's answer to her gratitude. His voice, so low and calm, his chuckle, his smile all spoke of his modesty. Her jaw tightened when she tried to erase the memories from her brain.

Infuriating! Just fatiguing!

Never had she played a supplicant. A pursuer. Never had she wanted it or needed it.

Quite the opposite, she had always been the heckler of any pursue and dalliances after her.

Romances did not interest her. Maybe because the only object of her preoccupations was an ancient elvhen God.

There was never any other man who could move her heart and draw her attention for longer than few seconds.
Simple attraction or desire were not foreign to her, still, love never made even a short stay in her soul.

All her life she was aware of her own emotions, she was able to recognize them, name them and cope with them.

And now? Could she recognize or define her own feelings?

At the time of conversation with Solas and their visit at the field hospital, the attachment and familiarity were strong and warm. Now, laying here, she felt things she had never experienced before.

She ached for more conversations, glances or even for physical contact. She wanted to be gentle and tender towards him.

In this short period of time he evoked in her respect and sympathy, muffled her mind and above all fascinated her.

Her affection was far from desire, but she had to admit his appearance was pleasurable. He looked more attractive than any other man in his age, which she judged between thirty-nine or forty-three.

She moved anxiously under the blanket.

Those deliberations were meaningless considering he had someone else in his life. Obviously.

He had to.

It was impossible for this man to be alone.