"Do stop, you silly beast."

Nike heard the voice distantly in her dark corner of sleep. At first, she resisted surfacing from that comfortable place, then heard the voice again.

"I shall put you out of the house if you continue to make that tiresome noise. Oh, do not look at me like that, I shall not be taken in. She needs her rest, as do you. Lay back again by the fire and behave yourself."

"Holly?"

Nike's eyes felt grit with sand as she opened them, but the ache in her back had settled to a low and distant hum. She wiped the back of her hand over her face, then heard the familiar whine. As she got up from the bed, Morrigan spoke again. Her voice was much nearer now, yet it sounded as if she were trying to speak softly.

"Don't take that tone with me. I don't care. I have told you before, your mistress is well and you can see her when she wakes. For now, she needs- "

She broke off and looked up as Nike opened the door, then sighed. "And now she is awake. I do hope you're pleased with yourself."

Holly did indeed seem quite pleased with herself, stiffly wagging her entire body as Nike knelt and hugged her, burying her face in the mabari's neck.

"You dote far too much on her," Morrigan said, folding her arms. "You are only encouraging her behav- "

She broke off abruptly as Nike stood and hugged her as well, her voice almost sobbing.

"Thank you. Thank you for saving her."

"I-" Morrigan looked as if she had been caught in a bear trap for a moment, simultaneously horrified and curious as to how she had gotten herself into such a mess. Gingerly, she loosened an arm and gently, awkwardly, gave Nike's back a couple of pats. "I was happy to help. I…"

Nike stepped back, wiping her cheeks. "Thank you," she said again. "I shall never be able to say it enough."

"Well-" Morrigan was clearly at a loss. "…you are welcome. It is no wonder that she is your hound; you are both stubborn and foolish. If you will not return to rest, either of you, at least come in and sit by the fire. Have something to eat."

Both Nike and Holly limped into the small main area of the hut, where the hearth fire blazed bright under the eternally bubbling pot. Nike noticed that a large folded blanket had been laid out near it, and gave Morrigan's back another grateful look. Perhaps embarrassed, Morrigan moved to gather a few bowls to ladle out the stew.

Holly moved stiffly and with a limp, her back end hunched slightly, but the gashes in her hide had closed. They were an angry red, and it was clear the worst of them would scar. The lid over her missing eye was still a little swollen and shut, a pair of these gashes crisscrossing it, and more making a mapwork of her muzzle.

"You, sit," Morrigan told Nike as she turned back around toward the pot, indicating a chair that had been drawn over. Then she looked at the mabari. "And you, lay your sorry tattered hide back down. Honestly."

She gave a huff and began to fill the bowls as Nike gave Holly a nod and gingerly settled herself in the chair. The dog whined, but obeyed, limping over to curl up on the blanket.

For a moment Nike felt overwhelmed with it all. The battle, the darkspawn, the loss of her family. But here was part of her family given back to her. Poor Holly looked like she'd been through it, but here she was, alive and safe.

She looked up with bleary confusion a moment when Morrigan lightly touched her arm with the bowl, and blinked at her. Gingerly she took it with another murmured thanks. Morrigan lay a much larger bowl down on the floor by the dog, and Holly wagged, giving her a goofy grin and a grumble.

"Do not try to butter me up," Morrigan said to her. "I saved you for your mistress's sake, nothing more."

Holly huffed happily, then started slopping up the bowl. In moments, it was gone.

Nike was a bit more delicate than her dog, picking up the wooden spoon and stirring at it a bit before eating. "What time is it?"

"Tis not so late," Morrigan said. "The sun has only just gone down. You slept most of the day away."

Nike looked around with a slight frown. To her the hour felt later, in this dark and shadowy hut. The fireplace felt like the only light and warmth in the world. "Where is Alistair? Your mother?"

"Your man is outside. He has been wandering around the dooryard, muttering to himself over those silly treaties all afternoon." Morrigan seated herself decorously nearby, a small dish in her hands. "As for mother, who can say? She is never where she is expected, and always where she's unwanted."

"He's not my man," Nike told her. Morrigan looked at her out of the side of her eye a moment.

"I did not mean you were romantically entangled," she said.

"I know what you meant," Nike said. "He is not my man, he is a Grey Warden, and has been so longer than I."

"That is curious, as he seems to defer to you in all things," Morrigan said. She had that tone in her voice, light, vaguely sarcastic, and somehow befuddling. It was impossible to tell when such a tone meant what she said was in jest or not. "He seems built for taking orders, and you for giving them."

"And what are you built for?" Nike asked. Deep inside, she could almost hear her mother's admonishment for being rude.

"That is none of your concern," Morrigan said, and now there was no question of what she meant by her tone. She looked at Nike as if the other woman had just burst in on her in a lavatory.

Taken a bit aback by what seemed an overreaction, Nike made a weak gesture with her spoon. "My apologies, Morrigan. It's none of my business, I was just making conversation. I did not mean to be so rude, please forgive me."

If Morrigan was soothed by this apology there was very little sign of it on her face. Before she could speak, however, the hut door opened and Alistair stepped in.

"You're awake," he said with relief, upon seeing Nike again. Then he chuckled weakly. "I seem to be saying that to you a lot recently. How are you feeling?"

"Better, thank you Alistair."

Holly made a low woofing sound and Alistair grinned at her. "And look at you! All patched up. You'll be tackling ogres again in no time."

"I would rather she didn't," Nike said. "Morrigan says you've been looking over the treaties?"

"Yes, and doing quite a bit of thinking," he said, setting the satchel down by vacant chair, before finding a bowl and starting to ladle some stew into it. "I think our best bet is to head north as soon as you're ready. You?"

"You mentioned Arl Eamon earlier," Nike said as he sat down. "I'm curious. Wasn't he at Ostagar?"

"No," Alistair said. "I know word was sent to him, but I never really got a clear idea of why he and his men didn't come. All I heard was that his men were otherwise engaged. However, he's King Cailan's uncle-…was. Was Cailan's uncle. I can't imagine he won't give us at least some men to help our cause."

"So, if we are able to enforce these treaties at all, and get some men from Arl Eamon, we should have enough of an army to get us through the horde and to the archdemon?"

"That is my hope," he said. "Provided we can find somewhere to send a message to the other Wardens, at least learn how we're supposed to beat this thing."

"Where do you think we should try first?" Nike asked. Alistair looked a little discomfited.

"I was hoping you might have an idea of that," he said, and Morrigan made a faint sound from her chair that sounded half like laughter, and half like a derisive snort. To Nike, the words 'I told you so', seemed hidden in every nuance of that sound.

"What?" Alistair had clearly heard the sound too, and looked irritated.

"Tis just curious," Morrigan told him. "You are the elder warden, are you not? Yet you turn to her for direction. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Look, I'm new to the order too," he said. "It's only been a few months since I joined, and I'm not under any delusions. I know I'm no leader."

He looked at Nike, his face softening a little. "Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not. What happened at the Tower just proves what happens when I'm even a little bit in charge. I have no idea what we should do or where we should go. I think using the treaties is a good idea, but even if it's not, it's the only idea we have. I don't know anything about diplomacy. You're the daughter of a Teryn. If you're anything like any other noble I've ever met, you were weaned on diplomacy. I'll be your sword-arm, but- "

"Sword-arm," Morrigan laughed. "You'll be useless as even that, when you cannot remove your chin from your chest and stop moping."

"What is wrong with you?" he asked angrily. "Haven't you ever lost someone you cared about? I mean, what would you do if something happened to your mother?"

"Before or after I stopped laughing?"

"Wow, that's cold," he said. "Here's the part where we're shocked to learn you've never had a friend before."

She arched a brow pointedly. "I can be friendly when I choose to. Alas one cannot make themselves more intelligent just by wishing."

"Stop it, both of you," Nike said, knocking the now empty bowl in her hand against the arm of the chair with a sharp clack. When they both looked at her she nodded to Alistair. "We'll go north. Find the nearest village we can and send word to the Wardens, see if we can't at least get an idea on how to kill the archdemon. From there, we'll go to Arl Eamon- get his help and possibly his counsel."

"You will have quite the journey," Morrigan said. If she was in any way discomfited or chastened, she did not show it. "Your safest and quickest route will be through the Southron hills and the Hinterlands to the Imperial Highway. Taking that course, the soonest settlement that might have means to send word would be Lothering."

"Lothering- I know it," Alistair nodded.

"From there, what distance to Eamon?" Nike asked.

"Afoot? It will take us nearly a month."

"A month?" Nike blinked, then looked at Morrigan. "I suppose it is too much to ask if you have horses?"

"We have none. We need none," Morrigan told her.

"We should be able to get some horses in Lothering," Alistair said. "It's getting to Lothering that I'm worried about. Most of the horde will still be around Ostagar, or heading north as well. It'll be between us and the village. They'll be moving slowly but they've already got a few days' head start on us. We'll have to find a way around them undetected and get ahead of them- that won't be easy. Not on foot. I'm not familiar enough with the Hinterlands or the Hills to be able to navigate us."

"Morrigan is familiar with these places." A voice from surprisingly near at hand spoke up suddenly. Nike jumped, causing the ghost of heat to once again move through her back, as Flemeth came into the cast of the firelight.

"Where did you-?" Nike began. From the direction she had to have approached, there was no door for her to have entered, and even Holly had not heard her coming. The only one that seemed unsurprised by her sudden appearance was Morrigan.

"Mother, you cannot be suggesting- "

Flemeth ignored her, looking down at Nike sitting in her seat. "You will depart in the morning," she said. "At first light. Morrigan will guide your way through the Southron Hills to this…Lothering. She knows these lands better than anyone, she'll find the way past the horde with little risk."

"Mother!" Morrigan slapped a hand on her chair, much the same as Nike had done with the bowl, then stood up. "Mother, this is not how I wanted this. You would turn me out of your hut?"

"I would have you help the wardens, girl," Flemeth said. "If this Blight is not put to a stop, this hut will be lost as much as anywhere else, overrun by darkspawn, and me along with it."

Morrigan's gold eyes glittered a bit in the firelight, and by the look on her face, Nike could see that she was trying to decide if having her mother and the hut overrun by darkspawn was, or was not, a negative. For the first time, Nike felt like Morrigan truly did hate her mother. Up until now, she had suspected that talking badly about her mother was sort of Morrigan's idea of a joke, that the not-so-veiled insults hid a deeper affectionate bond she truly had for the woman.

Now, seeing them glare at each other, she realized that wasn't the case. Nike felt a tightness in her chest; not because she couldn't believe that a parent could be terrible to their child and earn such hate, but because she had so loved her own mother, and had been robbed of her.

Why does a woman who garners so much disgust from her offspring get to keep living, while my own mother had to die?

Finally Morrigan spoke. "I am not ready," she said, and gestured to Nike. "The wardens are not ready. She still needs more time to heal, and the dog- "

Flemeth folded her arms with a sarcastic tilt to her head. "The dog? Really?" she asked.

Morrigan's expression tightened. "I was referring to Alistair."

"Hey!" Alistair said, but the two women ignored him.

"Ready or not, it's time to go," Flemeth said, then looked at Nike. "At dawn, you must depart. My wayward daughter will show you the way, if you'll have her?"

Nike looked at Morrigan, at the first expression of raw emotion she'd ever seen on the woman's face; anger. She wanted to ease that anger, tell Flemeth that they'd find their own way, thank you. That Morrigan could decide for her own if she wanted to go. Clearly, she wanted to stay.

Reality, however, wouldn't allow it. They'd never get past the horde without her help; Nike knew that. They'd never find their way through the Wilds, then through the Hills and the Hinterlands, without some sort of guide.

"We'd better think this through carefully," Alistair said. "It may not be safe to bring her."

"Do you think I shall stab you in the back as you slumber at night?" Morrigan asked him tersely. He blinked.

"Well, now I do," he said. "But that isn't what I meant, believe it or not. Outside of the Wilds, you're an apostate. If you're not careful, you'll have every Templar for a thousand leagues on you, and be forced into the Circle."

She snorted. "They can try."

"At best you'd be dragged there kicking and screaming," he said. "Your magic won't be an obstacle. It's their job, their bread and butter, to handle the most powerful and violent of mages. At worst, you'd be made Tranquil, and- "

Nike thought Morrigan looked angry before; now her eyes were pure molten gold as she glared at Alistair. "I will burn their Tower to the ground if they so much as think that word toward me."

"So, it is agreed," Flemeth said coolly to her daughter. "You will go."

Morrigan snapped back around to her. "What? I didn't agree- "

"You will leave at first light. Make sure you have everything, girl."

The odd, pointed inflection on the word 'everything' made Nike wonder just what was meant by this, before Flemeth walked away into her room, vanishing behind a closed door. Morrigan was rigid by the fireplace, her jaw so tight that Nike could see the muscles standing out.

"Morrigan- "she started gently.

"I suppose that is that, then," Morrigan said over Nike, as if she hadn't spoken. She was still looking at her mother's door. "I will wake you at dawn, and we shall depart. Good evening."

Without another glance spared at them she walked outside, the slam of the door resounding through the hut.