FENRIS
Night has fallen, and as predicted, we failed to reach the mountain's summit.
Our group has set up camp in a small clearing, halfway up the trail, beside some crumbled ruins. Hawke and Varric joke around, while tending to their poor excuse for a campfire; meanwhile, Serena and the elven maleficar both appear to have vanished.
They must've wandered off within the few minutes I was off scouting the perimeter. An act no one else seemed too keen on doing despite the importance of such a task. How they have all managed to stay alive so long, possessing such attitudes, remains a mystery. With their tendency for trouble, it may very well lead to their deaths. Or perhaps more unpleasant fates.
A part of me is tempted to ask Hawke and the dwarf about Serena's and the mage's locations. For awareness sake, if nothing else. But knowing how consumed they can get in each other's conversations, my questions would likely yield no results.
So, I suppose I'll just have to go look for them myself.
Slipping out of the clearing again, I start my search for the two elves. The pale moonlight guides my path, lighting up the rocky mountainside, helping me maneuver safely through its various ups and downs.
Within fifty feet of camp, all I can see and smell are the surrounding pines in the distance. An unwelcome and unfamiliar sensation. But then, that frustration dissipates . . . when I see her.
She's sitting alone on a slope about twenty paces away, her legs curled up in front of her chest, and her back facing me. Her scythe lies beside her in the dewy grass, the crescent blade shimmering in a rogue beam of moonlight.
A brisk, night breeze sways her dark locks across her armored shoulders, invoking an almost ethereal and ancient look to the lone elf. Like a forgotten warrior goddess of old.
Even now, it's hard for me to imagine any atrocities weighing down on such a delicate looking form—past or present. She simply looks too fragile from a distance, as if even a bit of hardship or force might break her.
But that is wrong. And I know it. Something did happen. That much is clear.
Her strained reactions with her clansmen earlier are proof enough of that. I could see it in their eyes, in her eyes, whenever she spoke or questioned the Keeper, when she reunited with the guards or first saw the mage.
The pain and sadness were there. And both more profound and palpable than I could have anticipated.
The only time I've ever seen such noticeable, unspoken grief was when Hadriana separated a young slave from her newborn, days after its birth. She inevitably killed it for another one of Danarius's barbaric rituals to entertain his most recent guests. A deemed necessary evil in order to maintain his 'reputable' status.
The mother took her own life five days later.
With this recollection in mind, I carefully approach Serena. She whips around to glance at me when I'm about ten feet away. I sit down on the grass beside her before she can object, fixating my gaze on the slope in front of us. Serena regards me silently, as if sizing up my presence, and what it might mean, if there's any meaning at all.
But I don't bother to keep her waiting. What would be the point?
"Tell me," I start, and she narrows her already squinting gaze at me. "You were a hunter in this clan. Yet, why is it you do not seem overjoyed to be among your people again?"
A soft chuckle escapes her lips. "There are many reasons," she says. "But most of all, it's because I wasn't planning on coming back . . . I . . . Well . . . " A sadness fills her voice. Her shoulders slump, and she appears to struggle to find words. After a long, painful moment like this, she closes her eyes and looks away. "It doesn't matter," she whispers. "It's all in the past."
I nod, agreeing to accept her words at that. It would be unwise to prod further. That much I've learned from experience.
For a good minute, only the sound of rustling leaves fills the air between us. Casting out the silence. Instilling a reflective sort of peace, which dispels any sense of fear or apprehension.
"In Tevinter, we are often told stories about the Dalish," I attempt to share with her, to change the subject. "However, most of which lacked substance or promise, so I often dismissed them as rumor or gossip. But what was life like for you growing up among the Dalish? Did you enjoy it?"
Serena laughs. "How does one compare or rate all that they've ever known?" she asks with tease. Her laughter ceases, and she lowers her head. "But, yes. I enjoyed it. I was an orphan growing up. My father was killed by some shem before I was born. And my mother, she abandoned me in her grief not long after I first drew breath. The rest of the clan raised me as their own. They taught me everything I know—how to fight, how to track, our history. Everything."
Her eyes gloss over, as if returning to that time, so long ago. A sparkle of happiness lingers in their depths. Glittering like a jewel. But then, the happiness shatters. Sadness and pain overtake her daze in a burst. Grief and agony take up residence there, penetrating deep into her core.
"Up until a few years ago, I never imagined living my life without them," she mutters, tightening her grip around her legs. "Oh, how the times have changed."
I gulp.
Curiosity swells within me again. This time on the verge of desperation.
I want to know what is paining her. If there is anything I can say. If there is anything I can do. Little as it may be.
"This . . . change . . . " I whisper, still feeling a tad hesitant, like questioning further may very well thrust me off the mountainside. "It must've been fairly drastic to separate you from your clan."
Serena frowns. "Yes, you could say that." She looks down at her lap. "Many have told me it was fate or destiny. Others the will of the Maker or coincidence. I don't question it anymore. But the point of the matter is . . . we lost someone, all to a foolish and irreversible mistake. And because of that, I can never go back. I can't."
I purse my lips. " . . . Was it someone important to you?"
She nods. The grief in her eyes more soul-wrenching and prominent than before. "Yes, very much so."
I place my hand on her knee to try to comfort her, as futile an act it may be. "Words are not sufficient, but I am sorry for your loss."
Serena rests her hand on top of mine.
I tense.
Electricity shoots through my veins at the unexpected touch. But not from pain, as I have come to expect.
"Ma serannas. You are very kind," she says with a girlish giggle, oblivious to my internal confusion.
A mesmerizing smile returns to her face, forcing me to intake breath, to look at her luscious lips.
"Although you are a flat-ear, I am glad you joined our team, Fenris," she says. "Your presence here . . . means more to me than you could know."
I nod, but truthfully, I don't hear a word. I'm too consumed with looking at her lips. Her tempting . . . lips.
Before I realize it, I'm reaching out for her cheek. My thumb traces across her bottom lip, pushing it lower slightly.
Serena's eyes widen. "Fenris . . . ?" she whispers.
Her quiet whisper acts like a spell—one that sets my blood ablaze.
A low growl builds in the back of my throat. I reach up higher to bury my fingers into her roots, determined to drag her closer. To press my lips against her own. Serena gasps but doesn't recoil from the touch. Instead, she submits with a willing limpness, giving in to the clutching pull of her hair.
I'm inches away from forcing that final distance between us closed when a loud crack echoes behind us.
We both flinch and turn around.
Merrill's staring at us from a short distance, her cheeks a faint, deepening red. A broken branch curls under her left foot. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . " She tries to shield her eyes to keep herself from looking at us. "I-I will just be going then." She rushes back up the slope, stumbling over her own feet, every couple of steps.
Serena looks over at me and jumps up. The heat inside me dissipates, as if a force has lifted. "I . . . um . . . am going to go get some rest." Serena clasps one hand onto the side of her neck, then points in the direction of camp.
She bends down fast to grab her scythe, quickly returning upright.
"Till tomorrow, Fenris." She bows her head to me, then hurries up the same path as Merrill.
I can only watch as she zips beyond the nearby treeline, wondering what has come over me.
