The villagers of Lothering seemed paralyzed by the situation. Some, it was true, took to the road and fled the moment Loghain's forces marched back to Denerim. Others… waited. For what, Chantal couldn't say. According to the locals, more trickled out every day but others waited resolutely.

"Some have brothers, sisters, husbands, and wives in King Cailan's army." Leliana whispered gently. "It is hard to believe the Maker has taken them. They do not wish to lose hope. Others… this has been their home for generations."

"But they're going to die." Chantal protested, wrapping her arms around herself as she paced by their fire. Alistair had set up their camp far from the other refugees and travelers on the outskirts of Lothering. They were, apparently, traitors to the crown and needed to remain hidden.

Chantal Amell once lived a quiet life. With books and spells, trapped in a magic tower. That hadn't been more than a month ago. Now, she was a Grey Warden and a traitor. She suddenly wished her life was much less exciting.

At least Leliana was a blessing. Her bow and arrow would be useful and she could cook (without complaining ceaselessly, like Morrigan.) Beyond that there was something… peaceful about Leliana's faith. If the Maker was with them, then maybe everything wasn't lost after all.

"You cannot save everyone." Leliana gently placed her hand over Chantal's shoulder, peering down into her eyes. "It is the Maker's will that you continue on, or perhaps all of Ferelden is lost."

So far, Chantal hadn't saved anyone except, perhaps, Trout. The Mabari was at her heels now, watching the people scurry around with her in the darkness. Chantal tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It is amazing, you look so like this village girl." Leliana shook her head as if in disbelief. "If there was time, I would take you to her! Perhaps you have a long lost sister?"

"I was told I had two brothers and a sister, but they're dead." Chantal stated simply. "All mages, except maybe the babe that died with my mother. I never met any of them."

"Oh." Leliana said quietly, as if at a loss for words. Chantal Amell, the only survivor of Revka Amell's children. The only survivor of her Grey Warden initiation. One of the only surviving Grey Wardens in Ferelden.

And yet, she was incapable of saving Lothering. It would burn when the horde came, and everyone that was still here with it.

She looked over the horizon, found her gaze drawn once more to the frightening steel cage in the distance and the large figure sitting within it. The qunari murderer, who would be helpless when the darkspawn arrived.

"I can't save everyone." Chantal repeated quietly. But, she could save someone. Leliana followed her gaze.

"I may not have mentioned it, but I can pick locks quite well."

Chantal shot the redhead a look out of the corner of her eye. "You are a very unusual chantry sister."

"Am I?" Leliana asked sweetly. Chantal shook her head and took a step forward away from the fire, into the night.

"Where are you going?" Alistair called out forlornly from behind them.

The Qunari was sitting within the cage, but his eyes followed them as soon as they appeared. "You return." Sten rumbled from deep within his chest. "Bas saarebas, have you no blight to stop?"

"Come with me." Remarkably, her voice didn't falter. She maintained her eye contact with the qunari. Slowly, he stood, unfolding to his true height like erecting a ladder. Everyone was taller than her, but Sten… loomed. "You said you lost your honor. Come with me and find it again."

"Is honor so easy for you to find?" Sten asked gruffly. "You are a woman, no fighter."

"I am." Chantal replied quietly, taking a step forward to the bars and putting one hand on them. "Come with me and see. Help me stop the blight, or stay here and let the darkspawn gnaw on your bones."

Sten stared down at her, she stared up at him. Finally, he nodded. Chantal tried not to let her relief show. "Leliana, open it."

The sister knelt, lockpicks appearing like magic in her hands. Chantal felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, heard Alistair whisper at her ear. "Chantal, are you sure?"

No, she wasn't sure rescuing the murderous qunari was a good idea, but she nodded anyway. "Tell Morrigan to pack up. We need to head out tonight."

Alistair withdrew and the door popped open. Sten stepped over the threshold of the cage, into the dark night air. "I require a sword, bas saarebas."

"Warden." Chantal corrected. "You can call me Warden, and we'll get you a sword."

"As you insist." Sten rumbled.