CHAPTER FOUR
Ma serranaas – Thank you
Ir abelas – Sorry
Lethallin/lethallan – kinsman
"Wait." Myra held up her hand, signaling the group to hold. Cassandra, Varric, and Solas stopped behind her, poising for battle.
"What is it?" Varric asked, holding Bianca at the ready. Myra hissed at him to be quiet, listening. They had already spent most of the day in the Hinterlands, clearing the area of apostates, Templars, and bandits. Smoke filled the air of nearby houses burning.
The Herald had pushed her group all day, giving them little rest, determined to make the area safe for merchants and refugees alike once again. They had soldiered on without complaint, circling the landscape, fighting enemies…but they were tired. So was Myra, and she wanted nothing more than to follow the setting sun's example and settle into her cot for the night. She would have finished leading the group to camp if she hadn't just sensed something.
She motioned the party to follow her, creeping into a ransacked cottage. Myra liked to think she was perceptive, able to pick up on cues simply from the way energy shifted in the air, and as she passed by that cottage, she had felt something…pull her towards it.
"Herald, what are we doing here?" Varric said. "We already checked this cottage earlier today."
"Quiet, Varric," Cassandra snapped. She seemed to sense it too. Cassandra did have a strong intuition.
Solas observed quietly.
Myra tried to tune into the energy around her once more, to find the hook that pulled her here in the first place and let it guide her. She breathed deeply, emptying herself of all distraction.
…
Dust and ash hung in the air and in the distance, the black wolves cried. It was a sorrowful cry. They had lost one of their own. Then, the air became still…
…
Pull.
Myra's gaze turned to the door on the far left, blocked by a beam. She looked to Cassandra, who nodded, having sensed it too. With a grunt, she shoved the beam out of the way. It thudded into the wall, shaking the already unstable structure. Myra opened the door and signaled the group to remain silent.
The small bedroom might have once been homey, but now ash blanketed the bedsheets and smoke seeped into the walls. A couple's bed rested in the center and a smaller bed was pushed against the wall. A rocking horse, hand-crafted, stood next to it and a doll lay on the floor close by. The rest of the cottage had felt lifeless, but here…something was different about this room.
Myra walked the perimeter, trying to find the source of the initial pull she had experienced. She touched the larger bed, the soot rubbing off on her fingers. It obviously hadn't been disturbed since the start of the chaos. It was then, as she looked back to the party, holding by the door, that she noticed something. Footprints, too small to be anything but a child's…They led from the doorway to the small bed across the room.
She walked over quietly, hoping not to startle the child, and got on all fours. The space beneath the bedframe was dark, but she could sense fear emanating from the blackness.
"Hello?" she said.
Silence, but as she listened more closely, she could hear the faint sounds of breathing. Myra looked around and grabbed the doll off the floor next to her. "You dropped your doll." She held it under the bed and waited.
The wait seemed forever, but finally, a cautious hand reached out and took it from her. Myra's eyes had begun to adjust to the dark and saw a very frightened pair of eyes looking back at her.
"Why don't you come on out, child? No one's going to hurt you here."
There was no reply. Myra twisted her mouth a bit. She didn't want to just leave the child here alone. She felt a tap on her back.
"Hey, Herald." Varric held out a nugskin flask. "Try this, she might be thirsty."
Myra sniffed the inside and smelled nothing. Maybe it was prejudiced of her, but she wanted to check before giving a child a dwarf's personal flask. She sloshed it around. "I have some water if you come out. It must be hard to get with all the fighting outside. Come now, you must be thirsty."
Myra saw the girl lick her dry lips. She reached a hand under the bed, making eye contact. "Come on. It's alright. You're safe now. No one's going to hurt you, child."
Shuffling, scurrying, a little girl finally crawled her way out from underneath the bedframe. Myra handed her the nugskin, which she drank from in large gulps. The tiny thing was completely covered in soot. Myra touched her gently, checking for any injuries.
"What is your name, child?"
"Fennec."
Myra dismissed the image of the small rodent. "Fennec?"
"Like the animal."
Myra nodded. "Where are your parents, Fennec?"
"Dead." She said the word without feeling. So matter-of-fact…It pained the Herald.
"How would you like to come with me, Fennec? We can get you some food and I'll keep you safe."
The girl seemed to consider it a moment before nodding.
"Okay, Fennec, let's go."
"What you did was kind."
Myra turned her gaze from Fennec's sleeping form to Cassandra.
The Seeker shifted her stance. "It takes a noble heart to defend the helpless and serve without reward."
Myra played with the human girl's long, matted hair, not meeting Cassandra's gaze. "I couldn't just leave her there…"
"There are those who would have. Their hearts have hardened over the years. But yours is softer than you let on, driven to comfort those in need." Cassandra paused for a moment. "I…know I judged you harshly when we first met, but I wanted you to know that since our meeting, I've gained a profound respect for you."
Myra felt warmth spread inside of her, and a hint of a smile spread across her lips. "Thank you, Seeker. Your words are kind."
"They are also true, and you are welcome. I suggest now that the girl is asleep you get some rest yourself tonight."
"I will. You get some sleep too."
They nodded their 'good nights' to one another, and Cassandra entered her tent, but Myra stayed by the fire, petting Fennec's hair as she slept with her head on the Herald's lap. Varric sat further away on an old tree stump, using the light of the fire to scribble down the latest story. Myra had asked earlier what he was writing and he said that Fennec's rescue today would make a great plot point in a story idea he'd been toying with. Not wanting to interrupt his muse, she'd allowed him to work in peace.
It was shortly after Cassandra had left that Varric rolled up his parchment and bottled his ink. "I'm heading to bed too. Don't stay up too late. We need that sharp instinct of yours for tomorrow."
Myra smiled politely. "I'll keep that in mind. Good night, Varric."
The dwarf retired to his tent. Solas looked up from the object he was studying (a shard of some nature), and stood.
"The Seeker's and my opinions differ in many things, but we seem to be in agreement of one thing tonight." Solas sat next to her, putting just enough space between them to make Myra feel comfortable. "What you did was kind."
"Thank you," Myra said. She felt her heartbeat quicken and she cursed her romantic nature. Turning away quickly, she hid her flushing cheeks from his gaze.
"Flustered?" She could hear his smirk.
"No," she replied quickly. Too quickly.
"The pink in your cheeks speaks to the contrary, Herald," Solas said.
"Ir abelas, lethallin. You must be mistaken."
The two sat in silence for a moment, and Myra had begun a downward spiral into panic. She wasn't ready, she wasn't ready, by the Dread Wolf, she wasn't ready. She couldn't open her heart again to more pain and hurt. Not again. Not after—She couldn't even bring herself to think their names right now.
"My eyes see many things, lethallan," Solas finally spoke. "I do not believe they were mistaken in the soft color of your cheeks, but I do admit that they are not all-seeing. For that, I apologize."
Myra felt her heart begin to slow from its panic only to swoon. His words were such poetry. She could become his betrothed now and probably die happy if she could listen to his sweet prose day-in and day-out. She shook the thoughts from her head. "Ma serranaas."
Fennec stirred in her sleep, tossing fitfully. Myra hushed her and pet her hair. When the girl's fits refused to cease, Myra began to sing a gentle lullaby.
"Elgara vallas, da'len
Melava somniar
Mala tara aravas
Ara ma'desen melar"
To her surprise, Solas began to hum along, though whether it was a conscious or unconscious decision, she didn't know.
"Iras ma ghilas, da'len
Ara ma'nedan ashir
Dirthara lothlenan'as
Bal emma mala dir
Tel'enfenim, da'len
Irassal ma ghilas
Ma garas mir renan
Ara ma'athlan vhenas
Ara ma'athlan vhenas."
As she sang, Fennec fell back into a deep slumber. While she almost certainly could not understand exactly what the song meant, the soothing nature of the Dalish lullaby must have conveyed its intent. Wherever she went in her dreams, she need not fear, for Myra would call her home.
"While I am certainly not the first to say it, I must say you sing beautifully," Solas said.
"Ma serranaas, lethallin." Myra gave a polite smile and turned to look at her kin. "I often sang for the children of my clan."
"One of your responsibilities as First to the Keeper, I presume."
"Yes, I had many responsibilities," she said.
"You must have handled them well to be trusted to represent your clan at the Conclave."
"I had my faults," Myra admitted, "but I hope to handle the responsibilities of this Heraldry just as well. Bring honor to my clan in hopes honor brings safety."
"A lofty goal," Solas said. "I hope you reach it."
"As do I, but enough talk of me. If you don't mind, I'd like to hear more about your journeys in the Fade."
Solas cracked a smile. "I am happy to share."
They spent the rest of the night sharing their personal journeys through the Fade, though soon their conversations drifted elsewhere, speaking of the meanings of historical events, the purpose to life, and theories of what came in the deep slumber of passing.
When the early hours of the morning came, Myra found herself curled into the fellow elf's chest, who was still sleeping soundly.
And although she could not remember, she wondered if they'd walked the Fade together in her dreams.