"Darkpawn. Hurlocks." Brehan pointed. "Not many."

"Let's clear them out, just to be safe," Saitada said.

It took them only moments. Tracks caught Brehan's eyes. He gestured for Saitada's attention, then jerked his head and began following the tracks. They led him to a hunter, a wounded man that had tried to crawl into a shelter.

"Wynne?" he called out.

The mage worked her healing magic over the hunter, and he opened his eyes. "What? Who... wh-who comes?" The wounded man focused his eyes on Brehan. The irises were starting to turn to gold.

"You're badly wounded. What happened to you?"

"We were sent to find Witherfang... bring his heart... attacked... I..." He passed out again.

Saitada glanced over at Brehan as Wynne and Lenore set to work on the injured Dalish. "Darkspawn in the woods, and the camp stripped of its defenders. Brosca, you and Sten take the injured man back to the camp. Shale, Zevran, Oghren, and Leliana go with them, shore up their defenses and make sure they know of the darkspawn."

Sten nodded.

Brosca grinned. "And if you aren't back by morning, come rescue you?"

Saitada grimaced. "The thought crossed my mind."

#

Brehan and Cathiel took point as they continued into the woods. Saitada and Sten stayed close to the mages, as Jerath and Alistair brought up the rear. Brehan held up a fist, bringing the party to a halt just before a footbridge over the small stream they'd been following. He sniffed at the air and gestured for them to be on guard, when werewolves burst out of the woods in front of them.

One of them drew itself up. Dark brown fur covered the beast, which stood nearly seven feet in height. It snarled. "Hrrr... The watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters." It snapped at him. "Another of the Dalish, come to put us in our place, come to make us pay for our attack."

Brehan blinked. "You speak? I thought werewolves were savage beasts."

"We are beasts, but we are no longer simple and mindless. Let that thought chill your spine. You speak to Swiftrunner. I lead my cursed brothers and sisters. Hrrr. Turn back now, go back to the Dalish and tell them that you have failed. Hrrr. Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long. We will watch them pay!"

Saitada looked at the wolves, taking in both their size and their claws. "You're the werewolves who ambushed the Dalish, then?"

"We are." It slashed a claw at the air in Brehan's direction. "I regret only that we did not inflict every single one of them with the curse that night."

Saitada glanced at Brehan. He shook his head, just as confused as she was. "You sound as if you hate the Dalish a great deal."

"That we do. How dare they send you here against us! Turn and leave, while you still have the chance!"

Brehan shook his head. "I would prefer to talk to you. I mean you no harm."

Swiftrunner snarled. "Was it not Zathrian who sent you? Hrrr. He wishes only our destruction, never to talk!"

"You talk of Zathrian as if you know him." Brehan narrowed his eyes. The hahren seemed to have left a few things out.

"Hrrr. We have never met, he and I. He would not survive the experience, I swear it."

"Why, exactly? Why do you hate him so much?"

"You know nothing, do you? Nothing of us and even less of those you serve. You are a fool, and we are done talking. Run from the forest while you can. Run to the Dalish and tell them they are doomed."

#

Cathiel's arrow caught the first of the charging wolves in the throat, dropping it in its tracks, but the others were upon them almost before she could nock her next arrow. She noted almost absently that these werewolves were more feral in appearance than Swiftrunner and his companions had been. Beside her, Griffin snarled, and she adjusted her shot to take the werewolf coming in from her left.

The wolves with the werewolves circled the combatants, coming in to try to flank the warriors. The mages kept a steady stream of spells to prevent the fighters from getting overwhelmed.

Griffin let out a furious bark and Cathiel whirled to take aim at the werewolves coming from behind them. Jerath threw himself into Wynne, knocking the older mage out of the path of a leaping werewolf. The humongous wolf bore the elf to the ground and closed its jaws around his arm before Morrigan unleashed a bolt of lightning into the beast. Jerath rolled from under it as it twitched and opened its throat with his sword. His left arm hung limp, but he stepped back into the fray, keeping the wolves from getting to the casters as Wynne got back to her feet.

A werewolf, its fur singed and smoking, raked its claws down Cathiel's leg before Griffon's jaws closed around its throat. Alistair charged in to take the pressure off Jerath. Lenore downed a potion before gathering power around her hands. The resulting fireball took out the charging wolves as well as several trees as the mage collapsed in exhaustion.

Saitada smashed the last werewolf to the ground with her shield, and Brehan took the opportunity to smash its skull open with his maul.

"Status?" Saitada asked, walking to where Wynne was helping into a sitting position

Brehan wiped the gore from his maul. "To used to being able to sense our enemies coming. These things are as tough as ogres."

Alistair half-carried Cathiel to the mages, ignoring her protest. Morrigan began healing the scratches Jerath had taken while guiding him to Wynne. Jerath sat heavily next to Lenore. Wynne knelt next to him and frowned. "Brehan, would you give me a hand here? It needs to be set before I can heal it."

Brehan nodded, and took Jerath's arm. The smaller elf grunted as Brehan slid the bone back into place and held it while Wynne wove the healing spell into the injury. Wynne then quickly repeated the spell on Cathiel.

Saitada surveyed the group. "Do we need to return to the camp?"

Wynne frowned. "Lenore, Morrigan, and I could use a bit of a rest, but we'll be fine. I'm more concerned about Cathiel and Jerath."

Cathiel frowned. "I've been scratched worse than that doing needlepoint."

"It's not the wound that worries me," Wynne said.

Saitada frowned. "You think they might have been infected?"

"It's a possibility we must consider. We don't know if the taint will protect you from the werewolf curse."

"All the more reason to keep moving," Jerath said.

"How's your arm?" Saitada asked.

Wynne answered before Jerath could, "he's lost a fair amount of blood, but the arm was a clean break."

"Keep an eye on them. We'll rest for an hour, and then keep going." Saitada looked over the dead wolves. "These seem to be different than the ones we met earlier."

"Feral." Brehan said. "Possibly rabid. I doubt these ones could talk."

#

"Thoughts?" Saitada said.

"That Swiftrunner guy really wanted to eat Brehan," Lenore said.

Saitada sighed. "Useful thoughts?"

"The Hahren knew more than he told us," Brehan said. He frowned.

"Some of the Dalish are starting to turn," Jerath said.

"You sure?" Brehan asked.

Jerath pointed, and then started walking up the path.

A werewolf was crouched by some rocks, watching them. "Dammit, Jerath, get back here!" Saitada yelled. She sighed, and started after him.

The werewolf stayed crouched as he approached. It sniffed at him. "P-please... help... listen..." It lowered itself a bit more as he came closer. "I am not... the mindless beast I appear to be..."

Saitada shook her head as Jerath went closer, crouching down in front of the beast. "What happened to you?" he asked.

"They... I am cursed, turned into this creature. The curse, it... it burns in me!" It gave an agonized cry. "I... fled into the forest. The werewolves, they... took me in. But I had to return. I had to!" It moved closer to him.

Saitada saw Cathiel lift her bow, and held up a hand to prevent her from loosing an arrow.

"You are... an elf, but not one of the Dalish. I was, until my... change. Have you... seen my clan?" it asked, gasping as it spoke.

"Danyla."

"Yes."

"Your keeper, Zathrian, is the one who sent us here."

"The keeper sent you? Then..." it drew back slightly. "You seek Witherfang."

"Yes."

"I know why you seek him. But..." it moved forward again, reaching out and setting it's clawed hand on Jerath's arm. Cathiel glanced at Saitada again. Saitada shook her head. "There is no time to explain. You must listen..." It shook in pain. "The scarf I wear... bring it to Athras. Tell him I love him. Tell him... I am dead and with the gods. I beg you..."

"I spoke to Athras. He worries about you."

"I want him to be at peace... He is a good man. Please do not... let him suffer thinking of me." The werewolf screamed in pain. "The curse... is fire in my blood!"

Jerath stood, and drew his blade. The werewolf looked up at him beseechingly. "Yes. Please! End it for me! End it quickly!"

The blade came down, and the wolf went still. He bent and took the scarf before returning to the others.

"Maker," Alistair whispered under his breath.

#

Not for the first time, Cathiel wondered if Lenore actually were mad. She watched the mage talking to the hermit, apparently engaging him in some kind of game of riddles. Next to her, Saitada just looked rather resigned to what Lenore was doing.

She felt Alistair's hand on the small of her back, and turned to see a worried look on his face. "I'm fine," she assured him. "No sudden growth of back hair."

"What about cravings for undercooked roast?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

"I promise, if I get the urge to bite anything, you'll be the first to know."

He gave her a suspicious look. Cathiel leaned into him, and watched Lenore trade a book for an acorn before coming back over to them. "He says werewolf lair is to the north, but there are trees enchanted to block the path. He can give us a way to fool the trees so that they will let us pass, but we have to go kill an oak for him first."

Saitada sighed. "Brehan, I think there was an oak just before we..."

"Oh, not any oak. The talking one."

"The..." Saitada shook her head. "Lenore, I am going to count to three, and then you are going to start making some bloody sense."

"He's probably talking about a sylvan," Brehan said. When she glanced at him, he shrugged. "Trees possessed by demons. This section of forest has a bloody history, and it's not uncommon for spirits to be drawn over the veil and end up inhabiting a living tree instead of a living body."

"A... possessed tree. You are having me on."

He chuckled and pointed to a scar on his arm. "One nearly killed Tamlen and I, about six years ago, on the edge of the Korcari Wilds."

#

"Whatcha think of the Dalish?" Brosca asked as he and Zevran walked a patrol circuit around the camp.

Zevran shrugged. "I know little enough of the Dalish other than the fact that my mother was one. Or so I was told. She had fallen in love with an elven woodcutter and accompanied him back to the city, leaving her clan behind for good. And there, of course, the woodcutter died of some filthy disease and my mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book."

"That's sodding horrible."

"Is it? It seemed normal enough a tale growing up, no different than the other elven boys in the whorehouse." He shrugged again. "I didn't know my mother, either, of course. She died giving birth to me. My first victim, as it were. We were all raised communally by the whores. It was a happy enough existence, ignoring the occasional beating, until eventually I was sold to the Crows. I brought a good price, so I hear."

"Sorry ta hear it."

"Compassion and rugged good looks in the same man. It is a delight, truly, though what you say is unnecessary even if it is appreciated." He shrugged. "It could have been much worse. Shall I tell you about what happened to the other whorehouse boys who did not fetch a decent price with the Crows?"

"Got a fairer idea than I'd like," Brosca muttered.

Zevran shot him a surprised look, then nodded. "People like you and I are not the product of happy lives of contentment."

"You can say that again."

"People like..." he cut off when Brosca smacked him lightly across the rear. "My original point is that my mother's Dalish nature was always a point of fascination for me." He sighed. "Through all the years of my Crow training, the one thing of my mother's that I possessed was a pair of gloves. They were of Dalish make, I knew that much, and beautiful. I had to keep them hidden, of course, as we were not allowed such things. Eventually they were discovered, and I never saw them again."

"Sod it, you had any happy times?" Brosca shook his head. At least he'd had Rica.

"Oh, there has been plenty. To tell the truth, it is because I expected nothing more. Still, even I eventually thought that it would be better for me if I ran off to join the famous Dalish when one of their clans drew near Antiva City." He chuckled ruefully. "Naturally the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies I had constructed as a boy, staring at those gloves. But," he waved dismissively. "Such is life."

#

"Brehan, you left out that the damn things could walk!"

"I said one nearly killed me!" Brehan yelled back. "You really think I'm stupid enough to almost get killed by an inanimate object?"

"Do not make me answer that question," Saitada said, slashing at a branch with her sword as she tried to keep it wrapping around her. "How did you kill it?"

"Fireball," Brehan yelled.

"Oh, that's me," Lenore said, and gathered the spell to her. The resulting flame sent a shower of smoldering embers and kindling everywhere. Saitada used her shield to protect herself and Wynne.

"Are we done?" Saitada asked.

"I don't think so." Brehan glanced at her. "That was a willow, and I didn't hear it talking."

"You're the forest expert. Go find me a talking oak tree."

"Heh. When you first joined the Grey Wardens, did you ever once think you'd find yourself giving that order?" Alistair asked.

"Cathiel, shoot him."

#

Lanaya gave Brosca a slightly disapproving look. "I am told you were instrumental in bringing our Cammen and Gheyna together."

"That a problem?"

"Not strictly speaking, though by our traditions Cammen is still da'len: a child. It is not an appropriate match at this time."

Brosca grinned up at her. "Who am I to stand in the way of love?"

"We try to teach our young to wean themselves off the impatience that humans suffer from. Their belief that everything must happen now is what destroyed us long ago."

"Ain't sure you noticed, but I'm not exactly human."

She shook her head, and then smiled. "There is no real harm in what you did. I do not doubt your intentions were good."

Brosca shrugged. "If this whole blight thing has taught me anything, it's not to underestimate elf kids. The one that travels with us kills ogres the way most folks swat mosquitoes. Don't mind my sayin, you got a different accent than the rest. Different clan, or..."

"My parents were servants to a human merchant whose caravans plied the southern routes. One day, bandits killed him and my parents both. I was the only survivor, just a young girl, and the bandits took me. I was their... servant... for several years."

"They get dead?" With all the chaos in Ferelden, he didn't like to think about how often her story might be repeated.

"Yes."

"Good." At least with Alistair's butt going on the throne, there would be a chance to do something. Maybe he'd grab Lenore and Zevran and go start taking care of the bandit problem after they were done with the darkspawn.

"Long years have reflection have allowed me to come to terms with it, to put them in perspective." She smiled and looked around the ships. "I can only imagine what would have happened had the clan not saved me from them. I owe them my life for that. And more."

"How'd they happen to rescue you?"

"The bandits killed a scout when the clan passed near their camp. When the clan discovered him, Zathrian came looking for his killers. He followed their tracks for almost a month. And when he finally caught up to us, he fell on the bandits like a terror. No one could stop him. I sat there and watched him attack them in a blur, and I reveled in every blow. When he saw me, the fury in his eyes turned to pity. He took me back to the clan and I have been here ever since."

"So you became keeper?"

"I am not a keeper. I am Zathrian's first. Though because I was not born into the clan, becoming his first was very difficult. We Dalish have old traditions."

"Noticed. Can't travel with Brehan and not."

She laughed. "The clans come from the ranks of the nobility that once ruled the Dales, you see. The keepers of the clan have the strongest and purest blood that reaches back to the days of Arlathan. I had to compete against the other candidates for first, to be better than them in everything simply because I was not of the old blood."

"So if Brehan's daddy was a keeper, does that make him some kind of elf prince?"

"No, it doesn't work quite like that."

"Old and pure blood might 'splain why everything we encounter tries to eat him." She glanced down at him, her lips twitching. "What did Zathrian think of all that?"

"He was proud of me. I've always thought of him as a father, in a way, and he could not hide his pleasure when I became his first. The clan has placed great trust in me. One day, I will lead them and be the one who secures our future."

He nodded. "Good on you. If'n you don't mind my askin, well... some of your folks have been just a bit... well... hostile." He shrugged.

She sighed. "They have reason. Since the days of Arlathan, my people have been either subjugated or homeless."

"Arlathan... Brehan's got a few stories about the place. Good ones."

"It was our ancestral home, long ago with the humans first came to these lands. We were free then, and immortal. We did not know how to deal with the humans and in the end, they turned their power against us and destroyed Arlathan. Our ancestors were enslaved and our culture lost forever."

"Weren't that those Tevinter? Same folks what cause the blight?"

"Yes."

"Elves eventually got free though. At least most places."

"Yes. After a millennium of slavery, our people were freed by Andraste, the human's prophet who spawned the Chantry."

"So how come you don't worship that Maker fellow?"

"We worship the Creators, as we always have. We give thanks to Andraste for her part in our freedom, but we do not worship her or her god."

Brosca nodded. "I wonder why elves still get dumped on like they were casteless."

"Casteless?"

"Dwarves that dwarves don't really consider to be dwarves. Like me."

"And your other friend?"

Brosca laughed. "Nah, believe it or not, she used to be a princess. Actually, I think she is again. At least her brother is the one sitting on the throne down there. But try not to hold that against her, she's good people."

"She has gone to help our hunters." Lanaya's lips twitched again. "I will try, very hard, not to hold her nobility against her."

He winked at her. "For a good cause. Once your people join up, I reckon we got this Blight thing up and handled."

"You have a high opinion of the Dalish."

Brosca chuckled. "Songbird was an apprentice storyteller. And I've seen him smash an ogre's face in with that hammer of his. And Junior? He ain't Dalish, but I've seen him stab a high dragon in the brain. Stone, once this witherfang business is dealt with, I plan to just go up to the Archdemon and tell him 'might want to turn your little horde around and slink back to your nest, we got elves.' And then, beer. I'm buyin." He considered. "So what do you Dalish drink, anyway?"

#

Jerath ignored the burning sensation under his skin. The transformation seemed to take days, from what he'd heard around the camp. There was plenty of time, and he'd rather not endure another round of Wynne fussing over him. They were already doing all they could to solve the problem.

"This is strange. The werewolves would not use such a camp, would they? Whoever this belongs to must be nearby." Wynne looked around.

"It could belong to some of the Dalish hunters," Saitada suggested.

"It doesn't look Dalish," Brehan said.

Griffon whined and yawned.

"Look around," Saitada said. She was staring at the fire as if hypnotized.

Alistair blinked, and then shook his head. "I sense magic at work. The fire is... it's weakening us. Can you feel it? It... it wants us to stay."

Saitada sat down next to the fire, adding a stick. Across from her, Morrigan sat down on one of the bedrolls, smoothing it before laying upon it. Jerath started to walk towards her. No. He blinked.

Alistair took Cathiel's hand, and pulled her with him into the tent. Brehan sat across from Saitada, as Wynne seated herself on a log. Jerath started to take another step. His legs felt leaden. No. He blinked, and shook his head. Get away. Now. Morrigan patted the bedroll next to her and smiled at him invitingly. It's a trap. Can't you feel it? "Why are you making camp?" he asked.

"It's a lucky find. It must have been abandoned not long ago," Brehan said. He started to unstrap his armor.

The veil is thin here. "We need to leave. Now."

"Oh, don't be such a spoilsport," Lenore said. She laid down on one of the bedrolls, curling herself into a ball and closing her eyes.

He could see it now, the spirits beyond the veil. Saitada's eyes were closing, as were Brehan's. Jerath saw Morrigan start to nod off. The fatigue was starting to drag at him. The duty cannot be forsworn. He reached across, touching the familiar mind. And rage filled him. He drew his sword as the shade appeared.

#

Dimly he heard Saitada's voice call his name. They were waking. "Thank you," he whispered, as he felt the spirit leave him once more. He took a moment to compose his face before turning around.

They were looking around, confusion on their faces. He sheathed the sword. "An abandoned camp in the middle of a demon haunted forest full of werewolves, and you all decide to take naps?" He shook his head, and then gestured at the now visible pile of bodies on one end of the camp.

"Clearly, this site is enchanted," Wynne said.

Saitada shook her head and stood up. "What were we doing?"

"I think... we were hunting a talking oak tree... or did I just dream that?" Lenore asked.

"No, I think that is actually what we were doing," Brehan said.

Alistair pushed the tattered remnants of the tent off himself and Cathiel, and then stood up. He glanced at Jerath. "How come it didn't affect you?"

"Youthful vigor. Shall we move on?" His blood was beginning to feel like it was scalding. He had to push anger back when they took their time looking around the camp. It wasn't the same as it had been before. The rage wasn't separate. In some ways, that made it easier.

#

"There is a stand of oaks, just through there," Brehan reported.

"How do we find the right one?"

Lenore considered the question. "It's probably going to have some residual fade energy and..."

"Lenore, go with Brehan. The rest of you, be ready to kill what they point at."

"Yes, oh fearless leader," Alistair said.

Lenore followed Brehan towards the grove. A couple of the trees seemed to bend and sway in their direction, but none actually moved towards them. An oak with light colored leaves shook as they approached. A voice, sounding almost intrigued, seemed to float from it as it turned to face them. "What manner of beast be thee that comes before this elder tree?"

Lenore blinked. "Can't you see me? I am a human."

"Ahhhh, yes, I remember thy kind. So brief of life and all but blind to the peril you cause, the lives you take, such chaos is sown within they wake." A branch extended, stopping about a foot from her. "Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder tree."

Lenore reached out and took the branch, shaking it as she would a hand. "I am pleased to meet you. I'm Lenore Amell."

Brehan just stared at her in disbelief. He looked back at Saitada, who was sighing and shaking her head. Then he looked back at Lenore. Morrigan's voice was incredulous. "It... rhymes? 'Tis a rhyming tree. One can only imagine what manner of spirit is involved here."

The oak's voice grew hopeful. "And unless thou thinkst it far too soon, might I ask of thee a boon?"

"Why do you speak in rhymes?"

"I do not know. Why dost thou not? Thy words seem plain, a mundane lot. Perhaps a poet's soul's in me... Does that make me a poet tree?" It laughed, leaves shaking.

Lenore smiled with delight. "A poet tree. Yes, I get it."

"It was but a simple jest, a jibe to entertain my guest." The tree seemed to bow.

Lenore nodded. "I have a question, if I could. We met a hermit in the wood."

Brehan threw up his hands and walked back to the others.

"That is the thief, the one I seek. It is he who rendered my future bleak."

"Perhaps you could assist us with our plan, we have to save the Dalish clan."

It rumbled slightly. "I have but one desire, to solve a matter very dire: as I slept one early morn, a thief did come and steal an acorn." The leaves shook. "All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone indeed. I cannot go and seek it out; yet I shall die if left without."

"What you ask is of little cost," she reached into her belt pouch. "Is this the acorn you lost?"

The tendrils took it from her almost reverently. "My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed!" Another tendril handed her a staff of knotted wood. "This cannot pass without reward; I shall give what little I can afford. Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout the forest free."

"I must be going on my way, perhaps we shall speak again one day?"

"I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong."

She gave the tree a curtsy, then turned around and blinked. Her companions were all just staring at her. "What?"

Saitada sighed, and started heading back up the path. Lenore caressed the staff. She could feel the power humming within it. She waved goodbye to the tree, and followed her friends.

#

"Yes? What is it you need?" Zathrian raised an eyebrow.

"Just finished walkin a patrol. Ain't sensing any darkspawn around. Might have just been that little band. Advanced scouts, maybe."

"Are you certain you accounted for all of them?"

"Songbird said we got them all, so we did. They don't escape his nose."

"Good. We have enough trouble without darkspawn."

Brosca stretched, then glanced up at Zathrian. "So, I spoke to Lanaya."

Zathrian raised an eyebrow. "And what did she have to say."

"She's got a high opinion of you."

His face became warm. "And I of her. One day she will be keeper after I am gone. She is more than ready."

"Seems to have a good head on her shoulders. She said you've been keeper a very long time."

"That's true." Pride showed in his voice. "Hundreds of years, if you must know. Slowly the Dalish will all know once again the agelessness of the elves. For now, only a few of us have regained that ability." Wariness showed in his eyes. "But I cannot say any more on that. I trust your curiosity is sated?"

Brosca's eyes widened. "Reckon it's gonna have to be." He twitched a shoulder. "She said you lost your family."

Zathrian's voice caught. "I... would rather not speak of it. It is very painful for me, even now after so long. The werewolves were responsible. That is all you need to know, and should adequately explain my hatred of them, no? Let us leave it at that."

"Sorry. Didn't mean ta..." Brosca sighed. "My friends are tough. They'll take care of this Witherfang."

"I hope you are correct."

Brosca was silent for a few minutes, considering. It felt like he was missing something. He shrugged. "Heard a legend once, bout the fall of Arlathan. To flee the humans hunting them, a clan of elves came down to one of the thaigs. Cadash thaig, I think it might have been. Story says that the things wrought by the magic of the elves and the hammers of the dwarves were some of the greatest marvels ever created. 'Cept it was long enough ago that nobody knows what those marvels were, and that thaig was lost to spawn. Don't suppose you'd know the truth of any of it?"

"I recall stories of a clan that sought sanctuary with the dwarves, but not what fate eventually befell them."

"Well, suppose all that's left is to keep the spawn from taking more. I'm gonna walk another patrol." He walked away, lost in thought. There was something else here, he just couldn't see it.

#

"We are invaded! Intruders have deceived their way into the forest's heart! Fall back to the ruins! Protect the Lady!"

They surged forward, attacking the wolves. Saitada was about to yell to press the attack when a giant white wolf landed in their midst. Alistair jumped backwards in surprise, and the werewolf he'd been about to skewer scrambled backwards and ran. The wolf snarled, then ran off after the others.

"That beast 'tis most likely Witherfang," Morrigan said.

"Yeah. Got that. Alistair, you alright?" Saitada asked.

"Just startled."

"Saitada?"

"Yes, Lenore?"

"He said 'protect the Lady'. What lady?"

Saitada blinked, then looked back in the direction the wolves had fled. "Brehan, Morrigan, any thoughts?"

Both of them shook their heads. "Maybe an apostate hiding with them?" Brehan offered.

"Let's press on."

They started forward again. Brehan's eyes widened as he walked a bit ahead. "These ruins are elvish. They must be..." he shook his head and looked back at them. "A thousand years old, at least. If not more." He turned back. "It's possible there could be still active wards."

"Lenore, Morrigan, Wynne, keep an eye out."