Nike dreamt that night of the stable fire, of Oren sitting in flames while the horses screamed all around her. Just before she woke, Oren suddenly stood up, and he wasn't a little boy anymore; he was Sten of the Beresaad, standing in his iron cage. He looked at her with the same calm, blank expression he had in the woods, while the darkspawn closed in all around.

She opened her eyes to see morning light bright in the small window. Sitting up, she lethargically picked straw out of her hair, wishing she could have a bath and deciding washing her face and neck in the cool stream just outside would probably be the best she could hope for. As she got to her feet, she heard a rustle and looked up.

She had thought Morrigan had left her the previous night, after she'd dozed off, but there she was, perched up in the rough wooden rafters and watching her again with one sleepy yellow eye.

"Good morning," Nike said in a dull voice, and got to her feet. Rustling in the straw for her pack, she rummaged out a semi-clean tunic and peeled the dirty one she was wearing off. The cool of the morning prickled her bare skin a moment before she pulled the new one on, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell.

We'll need more clothes soon, she thought as she tucked the one she'd taken off under her arm and, shouldering the pack, climbed down from the loft. Holly, who had slept the night below, greeted her with a happy stamp of her feet and followed her out.

The air outside was crisp, and the stream seemed as cold as mountain meltwater. Nike's hands were bright red as she finished wringing the shirt through it, and after splashing some water on her face and finger combing her hair she tucked them, aching, into her armpits to warm.

Morrigan flapped down to the nearby eaves of the house and let out a raucous call. Nike looked up at her. She didn't know why she kept to her raven form around the Hawke homestead. Adaon knew what she was and clearly, it hadn't bothered Morrigan for the other mage to see her in her human form before. None here would turn her over to the Circle, to do so would be to cut their own nose off to spite their face.

Morrigan cried out again, and Nike realized she and Holly both were looking into the distance, toward town. Rising up to her feet, she turned and looked as well.

Just coming past the first of the stone walls, at the edges of the trees, came a curious party. Adaon was front and center, distinguishable at this distance solely because of her hair. She thought both Carver and Bethany might be with her, and from the look of it they had several horses and bags with them.

But that didn't seem to be all. Another pair of heads were behind them, one significantly shorter and the other nearly of a height with Adaon, but obscured behind her. A brief worry passed through her mind that these were some of the town's soldiers- Brand and one of his cronies perhaps- but it passed quickly. Adaon would not bring them like this, not if she had any choice; and to her the apostate looked as casual and relaxed as she ever did.

The door of the house creaked open and then closed again, before Alistair spoke into the morning cold.

"Well, would you look at that? Horses, just as promised."

"I don't know how she did it," Nike said, more to herself than him as she planted her hands on her hips. "The Hawkes barely have a handful of coin and almost no food to their names. They're going to have to evacuate themselves here in a day or two and here she comes big as the Maker himself with- "

And then she stopped. Adaon, seeing them standing there, had lifted a hand in greeting, and Nike had halfway lifted hers in response, before she caught sight of what was happening behind the trio of Hawkes.

The smallest of the two figures had grabbed onto the saddle of one of the horses, and with a cry set heels to its sides. As Adaon lifted her hand the horse darted past her with a clumsy but aggressive snort and snap, which made her whirl and recoil back in surprise.

The horse was a dingy old grullo, with a dished face and turned out elbows, as squat and gruff as a bulldog. The rider was an elf, with dark hair and-

-Maker!

Nike's cry was wordless, and she ran forward to meet them. The grullo reached her in a handful of bounds, skidding as it tried to stop and ducking its head to snap at her as it had done Adaon. Nike completely ignored it, her arms flying upward and catching the elf as she leapt down from the saddle.

"Tahja! Oh thank the Maker!"

The elf was crying as Nike set her on her feet, hugging her tightly. "You're alive! You're here!"

"Are you all right?" Nike asked, holding the elf suddenly at arms' length and looking over her as if she were a daring and disobedient wayward child that had fallen off a bit of fencing.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, mistress! You- "

"Not hurt," Nike said, though that wasn't entirely true. Catching the elf as she had done had sent that old familiar burning ache through her back again. "Are you sure you're- "

The elf only nodded, too overwhelmed for a moment to say anything more. Nike hugged her tightly again as Alistair got to their side.

"It's good to see you, Tahja," he said. "A relief, really."

The grullo snuffed at Holly, who had come bounding up to happily greet the elf as well, and made a sound very like a growl. Alistair shook his head with a laugh.

"And you, Angry Horse. Good to see you too."

"He saved my life," Tahja said, wiping her cheeks as she looked at the grullo. "When the darkspawn overran camp, I just grabbed hold of his saddle and he took off. I held on for dear life- it was nearly morning before he finally stopped."

Adaon and the others were drawing near, the blonde grinning as she shook her head. "Good to see at least one happy reunion-oof!"

She let out a blast of air as Nike half tackled her in a hug. "Thank you! Thank you for finding her!"

"As much as I'd love to take full credit, it was more like she found me. Well, they found me, anyway."

"They?" Nike felt her heart lift with impossible hope a moment. Fergus? Was it possible Fergus had been found as well?

"Good morning," said the last stranger, as she stepped up beside Adaon with an odd little bow of her head. She was wearing a pair of daggers and leather armor bearing the mark of the Chantry. She looked Ferelden, but spoke as an Orlesian. Seeing her, Nike's heart fell again. Not Fergus, after all.

"Nike, this is Sister Leliana," Adaon said, introducing her. "Sister Leliana, this is Nike Cousland and Alistair, the Wardens."

"Tahja has been with the Chantry for several days," Leliana said, with a fond smile in the direction of the elf. "She was one of the first to arrive from the refugees at Ostagar. When we heard news that the Wardens were accused of treason, we nearly had to restrain her from shouting your innocence in the streets. She has told us much about you."

"We barely had to start asking about before the Sister showed up and brought us right to her," Adaon said.

"Thank you for looking after her, Sister," Nike said.

"It is as the Maker wills it," Leliana replied lightly. "Thanks are His. If I could, I would like to speak to you privately, once you have a moment?"

"Of course," Nike replied, and Adaon gripped her shoulder briefly.

"Go on. We'll get things inside and settled. There's a lot for all of us to talk about and plan, but we can do it over breakfast. It'll take a few minutes to get ready."

"Oh, Holly! My dear sweet, what happened to you?" Tahja was crouched beside the mabari, cradling her tattered and scarred face while the hound enthusiastically tried to wash her face.

"She was a hero," Alistair told her. "Tackled an ogre. I'll tell you all about it inside."

He gave Nike a wink, and then a slight raise of his brows. Reading his unspoken question, Nike nodded.

"Go on, thank you. I suspect I won't be long."

As they tied up the horses and started carrying bags inside, Nike indicated to the Sister to follow her, and they headed around the house and into the deeper edge of the wood. As soon as they were alone she stopped and regarded the Sister again.

Leliana looked around at the golden morning light spilling through the green leaves with an almost revered hush a moment, before she finally looked at Nike. "Thank you for speaking with me. I was not sure you would. Trust is a difficult thing to find these days."

"Adaon trusts you, or she wouldn't have brought you," Nike said. "And you helped Tahja. Nothing will ever be thanks enough for that."

"She is dear to you," Leliana nodded with a smile. "As you are to her. She told us much about you and what happened to your family, how she came to be so far away from home in your company. You have my deepest sympathies."

Nike gave an uncertain nod, and hoped just giving her sympathies was not the reason that the Sister wanted to speak to her alone. As if she'd asked aloud, Leliana shook her head and gave a small smile.

"I hope you do not think she surrendered too much information about you and your family to a total stranger, even one of the Chantry," she said. "Truth be told, it was I who pursued her for the information, once I learned your name."

"As a Cousland?" Nike asked, knitting her brows. Had the word of her family's massacre spread? She supposed it must have. Many soldiers in the camp would doubtless have heard the rumor, and many of those soldiers were now spreading far and wide over Ferelden.

"No, as a Warden," Leliana replied, which only confused Nike the more.

"I'm sorry, I don't follow."

"I knew that you were coming days before Tahja found our little Chantry," Leliana told her. "When I heard that she was tied to you, I sought out from her what information I could."

"You knew I was coming? How?"

"The Maker told me," she said simply. Nike blinked once. She did not move back, but internally she had retreated more than a pace. Leliana laughed a little. "Trust me, I know how it sounds. I do not ask you to believe me, but I must be honest."

"And what did the Maker say to you about me?" Nike asked slowly, now entirely doubting the wisdom of being alone here with this woman and her daggers.

"That you were coming, and that I was to go with you, lend my aid to help stop the Blight."

"I don't really see how that would be a good idea," Nike told her. "What we're doing is going to be dangerous- "

"I was not always a Chantry Sister," Leliana said smoothly. "I can take care of myself if the occasion calls for it."

"You know Alistair and I have bounties on our heads. We're going to be hunted from the Waking Sea to the Frostbacks. I don't doubt that anyone that goes with us is going to be served the same as we are, if we're found."

"All the more reason you need me along," Leliana told her. "I have some experience with travelling unseen. More, it is my understanding that you need to send messages to the other Wardens; all methods in this village and soon any other will be closed to you. Even if you could risk entering them to send your messages, birds and riders will be hard found and hard worked."

There was truth in that. Every one of those refugees out there probably had family they were trying to notify, to get news from. That would only grow as the Blight continued on. Whatever birds or riders that weren't conscripted to serve militias and military companies all across Ferelden would be run ragged trying to keep up with demand.

"You have birds?" Nike asked, and Leliana smiled.

"I do. I have several fine crows who can- "

She blinked a little as Morrigan suddenly swooped down, landing on Nike's shoulder.

"Oh, my. What a beautiful bird!" Leliana said. "My apologies. Ms. Hawke made it sound as if you had no means of your own to send word to the other Wardens but it seems she was mistaken."

Morrigan made an indignant chirruping sound and Nike shook her head. "She wasn't," she said.

"Oh? The raven is not trained?" Leliana asked. Nike was not about to tell the Sister that Morrigan was really an apostate mage and not a messenger bird at all; not at this juncture, anyway.

It seems the Maker left some things out, if He told her anything at all, Nike thought.

"Listen, I appreciate your help with Tahja, but I really don't see how this is a good idea. You coming along, I mean."

"I understand, but disagree. Tell me, do you intend Tahja to stay here?"

Nike blinked at that. "I…no, I wasn't-…I haven't had time to give that any thought."

"I know as well as you, that she will not remain behind," Leliana said. "Where you go, she will follow. If you attempted to leave her behind it would serve only to hurt her feelings, and she would likely follow you anyway."

"This isn't about Tahja, this is about you," Nike said.

"I know, but you need help. Do you not intend to gather an army to fight the Blight yourselves?"

"The Maker told you that?"

"No," Leliana said with another smile. "That is merely common sense. I have read much of Wardens and past Blights. I know that Blights come with archdemons, and only Wardens can put a stop to them. You will need an army to reach the archdemon, you cannot do it alone. And you will need help putting this army together, especially considering Loghain Mac Tir's accusations against you. You need their help, despite the danger. Tahja wants only to help you, and you will allow that despite the danger. I want only the same- to help you. As all arguably do, I have a responsibility to help protect these lands and its people from the Blight, same as you. I accept that responsibility. The danger is also mine to accept and I do. Please, will you at least think about my offer?"

"I will consider it," Nike said, after a long pause. Truth be told, they could use the messenger birds. Further truth be told, they could use someone who knew how to keep a low profile, to help them keep a low profile.

And those daggers on her hips- if she truly knows how to use them…

Nike's thoughts returned to Rendon Howe, and that distant strike to his heart on some shadowy evening she was determined to live to see. She'd need a teacher, though even she had to admit she had never suspected such a teacher would take the form of a Chantry Sister. Would she even help Nike better learn the blade if she knew why Nike wanted to? She wasn't sure.

No, she'd definitely have to think on this.

"Alistair also needs to agree," she said finally. "I have to discuss it with him first."

"I understand, and I appreciate your consideration," she said. Nike nodded absently, looking up at the sky. Morrigan's words from the previous night rose to mind.

To stay beyond the morning, I fear, would be courting foolishness.

So much had to be done and talked about and thought about, and time was not on their side. Nike feared that time was a thing that may never be on their side again. In a way, it could prove a worse enemy than the Blight.

She headed back to the house, Morrigan still riding her shoulder and Leliana close behind. There was only one thing that Nike knew for sure, and even that wasn't really for sure.

If the Maker is speaking to her, if He is watching us, He'd better get off His fat godly ass and do something other than 'speak' and 'watch'. Or else we're well and truly fucked- the punchline in some heavenly joke that I will never understand and that is made at our expense.