Chapter Twelve: Asha'bellanar

We followed Morrigan from the ruins and deeper into the wilds. A cold wind sent a shiver down my spine. I had trusted my instincts in following this stranger; I only hoped my decision was the right one. I increased my pace so I was walking next to her.

"What can you tell me about your mother?" I asked hoping for something to prepare myself.

"Flemeth prefers her privacy, but she will be curious enough about why you are here to speak with you," she drawled, but did not embellish further. We continued walking in silence. Behind us I could hear Daveth whispering about witches being bad luck. For a moment Morrigan's face betrayed her stone cold facade.

I turned my head and frowned at him. "So… are you a witch of the wilds then?" I asked curiously. Legends surrounding the infamous witches of the wilds were known all throughout Thedas. Flemeth was a name not to take lightly, her story was passed down through generations.

"Some call us witches yes, but purely out of superstition." She sighed heavily in disgust. "Not all in the wilds are monsters. Flowers grow here, as well as toads." She pushed through a large brush disappearing to the other side. I looked at Alistair for guidance, and he just shrugged his shoulders. Blowing out a deep breath I slid my fingers around my dagger before following the witch. Morrigan waited on the other side in full view of a small decrepit hut. My eyebrow rose in question, was this her and her mother's home?

Without waiting for the rest to follow through, she took off towards the house. The door of the shack opened and an elderly woman with stark white hair stepped out to meet us. "Greetings mother," Morrigan called. "I bring before you four grey wardens who…"

"I have eyes girl, I am not so decayed that I cannot see those before me." She cackled studying our party with wizened eyes. She looked nothing like the description of Flemeth from the legends; she was too old, too ordinary. "Much as I expected."

"You want us to believe you were expecting us?" Alistair alleged.

"You are required to do nothing, lease of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide… either way, one's a fool!" Flemeth snickered at Alistair.

"She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!" Daveth exclaimed.

"Quiet, Daveth! If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Ser Jory retorted trying to calm the thief.

"There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will of me." Flemeth said to the two before turning her attention towards me. "And what of you? Does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

I opened and closed my mouth several times, trying to think of an answer for her. What did I believe? "I'm not sure what I believe," I answered.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware… or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!" She rambled.

"This is a dreaded witch of the wilds?" Alistair mumbled in disbelief, and I couldn't help but agree. Where was the woman who could kill a man by fear alone?

She laughed heartily, "Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!"

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "They did not come to listen to your wild tales mother."

Flemeth sobered, a small smile dancing on her lips. "True, they came for their treaties and before you begin barking your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these until they were needed." She held out three treaties.

Shocked Alistair accepted them from her. "You protected them?"

"And why not?" she growled. "This blight's threat is greater you realize."

"How do you know that?" I asked suspicious of the old woman.

"Do I?" she asked coyly. "Either the threat is more or they realize less." she laughed wildly. "Or perhaps I am simply an old woman with a penchant for moldy parchments."

I narrowed my eyes at Flemeth; if she knew more, she wasn't going to reveal it. Though I highly suspected her demeanor was an act, the crazy witch living in a hut in the wilds. I smiled kindly at her. "None-the-less thank you for returning them."

"Such manners!" she exclaimed delighted. "And always in the last place you look… like stockings!"

"Mother!" Morrigan scolded rubbing a hand on her temple.

"Oh do not mind me. You have what you came for!" Flemeth said.

"Time for you to go then." Morrigan smirked crossing her arms across her chest.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl." Flemeth corrected frowning at her daughter. "These are your guests."

Morrigan pouted disapproval written on her features. "Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods." We followed Morrigan from her home back into the wilds and away from the hut; I glanced backwards towards the elderly witch. Could she really have known of our arrival, or was it just ramblings of a woman who had been driven crazy out here in the wilds?

Flemeth watched our party disappear into the trees, a frown deepening on her once laughing face. Her iris's had disappeared into the white of her eyes as she envisioned things we could never possibly comprehend.