She was so hungry it hurt. Her stomach protested noisily about the emptiness that clenched her guts and made her surly. She swore she was hungrier than she'd ever been since Ostagar, but she was losing weight anyway from all the constant marching. She'd been soft, once. By the time they stumbled onto the highway to Lothering, she felt as lean as Alistair.

The other people on the road didn't even look at them. Despite that, she twitched her hood over her head nervously. Morrigan followed her lead and did the same, although she still looked like a wicked witch even with her cold glare muffled.

Alistair didn't bother to hide his face. He stared down at his own feet, silent as a ghost. He barely spoke the whole journey through the Wilds, not even to respond to the barbed comments from their new witch friend.

"Ah. Look at them scurry about." Morrigan tutted, shaking her head. "Fools. They'll be dead in days."

Morrigan, Chantal decided, would never be in charge of moral.

"Perhaps they'll escape." Chantal leaned heavily on her staff, watching as a farmer prodded along an ancient looking mule. "There's still time."

Morrigan shot her an icy look and said nothing else. She didn't need to, Chantal remembered Ostagar only too well. She would never forget the flood of darkspawn, the endlessness of it. A tide that would sweep all of Ferelden into the abyss.

And who was left to stop it?

Before she could descend into that swirling panic and dread, the same way she did every night when they stopped to make camp, Chantal smelled something mouthwatering in the air. Roasted meat of some kind, spiced heavily. Her stomach lept in anticipation and she turned on her heel. "Do you smell that?"

"Misery and refuse?" Morrigan asked sarcastically. Alistair found it in himself to look up, confused. But Chantal had spotted the origin of the delicious smell, a man holding out sticks of roasted meats to the fleeing villagers and farmers. Thank the Maker for commerce, she thought in relief.

"Do we have coin?" Chantal asked brightly, grabbing at Alistair's pouch. Before he could stop her, she had tugged it free and spilled out a handful of copper and silver into her palm. Morrigan raised an eyebrow in disapproval as Chantal nearly skipped cheerfully across the road.

"Aye, smells good?" The man gave her a broad, toothless grin. "Want a taste?"

"What is it?" Alistair was at her elbow, holding onto her tightly. Like a lifeline, almost.

"Fish caught right from…"

"No."

Morrigan and Alistair both said the word at the same time and Alistair was already pulling her away from the man. "Sorry, not today." He continued on breezily.

"But…" Chantal could almost feel the whine in her voice.

"Are you daft?" Morrigan asked severely. "Do you wish to be ill?"

"It smells great."

Alistair and Morrigan were both staring at her as Alistair dragged her along. For two people who couldn't talk to each other without descending into insults, they were wearing identical expressions torn between amusement and disbelief.

"She spent her whole life in a tower." Alistair said finally, as if he'd settled on the answer to an unasked question.

And in the tower, she'd at least gotten three meals a day. She'd eaten nothing but berries for days. She pulled her arm free of Alistair's and spun, glaring at both of them. She stabbed her staff into the ground in emphasis and drew herself up to her full height. Unfortunately, both of them still towered over her.

"We have the coin!" She protested vehemently. "I like fish!"

Morrigan folded her arms over her chest and glared down at her. Alistair rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled softly.

It was the first time he'd laughed since Ostagar.

"Chantal, you can't… you can't buy fish off of strangers. Anything else, you may be okay. But never eat fish you didn't catch yourself."

"I've never caught a fish." Chantal reasoned. Morrigan threw her arms down in exasperation.

"My mother has sent me with you to die." Morrigan grumbled. She jabbed a finger into Chantal's sternum. "If you eat fish sold my some beggar off the side of the highway, you will become ill, and I shall not be providing any antidotes to cure you, blight be damned. I did not come with you to cure a child's food poisoning!"

"Just as well, anything she makes is probably worse than the fish for your health." Alistair grinned.

And she would have felt bad about starting the argument that Morrigan had so clearly been itching for, but she was damned relieved to see him smile. Maybe, just maybe, the world wasn't ending after all.

"You can both teach me to fish." Chantal interrupted what she was sure was going to be a lengthy rant from Morrigan.

"For the…. Do we have nothing more important to accomplish?" Morrigan rubbed at her forehead.

"Brilliant. I'll find a pole." Alistair beamed. "You know, I always wanted to teach someone to fish."

"Alas, you were recruited as a Grey Warden instead." Morrigan muttered.

The barking surprised all of them. While they had wandered, they had outpaced all the other travelers. Except one very large, noisy one that crested the hill behind them. "There's no way any of the mabari survived, right?" Alistair asked, squinting behind them.

Chantal didn't get a chance to answer. The mabari launched himself into her with all the power of a spell, knocking her directly off her feet and onto the road. Dust erupted in a cloud around them and the dog whimpered, before a rough tongue lashed her cheek eagerly.

Chantal giggled, turned her head.

"Charming." Morrigan commented, but even beneath the dog, Chantal swore she saw a small amused smile.

"Hello!" Chantal burried her fingers into the scruff of the dog's warm fur as he continued to lick. "Hello! Stop!"

Immediately, the dog retreated, sitting on his massive haunches and tilting his head to the side. Chantal propped herself up on one arm and stared into the warm brown eyes. He panted eagerly, tongue lolling out one side of his mouth.

It was the same Mabari, the one she brought the flower for. Tears pricked her eyes. "The darkspawn couldn't keep you down, could they?" She asked, bringing herself up to her knees. The dog barked, as if to say They didn't get you either!

She couldn't help it, emotion burned the back of her throat like the sip of brandy Alistair had given her before the battle. She threw her arms around the beast's neck, buried her face in his fur.

Everyone was dead and they needed to save Ferelden. Alone.

She could never go home again.

Alistair's devastated face, etched into her memory clearly, the moment they realized Loghain was retreating.

The mabari whimpered and she held onto his neck tighter. "Good boy." She cooed breathlessly. "Clever boy."

That evening, they made camp by a stream and the Mabari sniffed it tentatively before jumping into the water with a mighty splash. They looked up in time to see him emerge with a flopping trout clamped in his jaws.

"It appears." Morrigan began dryly. "You will eat fish tonight after all."

The mabari dumped the fish in front of Chantal and nudged it toward her eagerly. Laughing, she bent to scoop it up. "Well, serah, I suppose you have earned your keep. I dub thee, Warden Trout!"

Alistair laughed so hard he nearly fell into the stream and for a moment, Chantal believed they would be alright.