A/N: As always, thanks so much for the support! Enjoy this addition to Chapter 3. -Perching Kite


Chapter Three, Part Three: A Hunting We Will Go

"Where...are...the bloody...darkspawn!" Jory huffed, repeating the complaint he'd uttered every handful of minutes since the first step they'd taken out of Ostagar. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow as he baked under the weight of his heavy plate armor, and his face and scalp were bright red from sunburn after stripping off his helmet to avoid cooking his brain. Daveth's remark that he wouldn't otherwise notice the difference led an exasperated Alistair to separating the two squabblers, placing Torran between them and ending her self-imposed seclusion at the rear.

"Any more bellyachin' outta you an' they'll be sure to find us!" Daveth muttered darkly. He wasn't faring any better in his dark leathers, though fashioning a rough bandana out of some bandages and drenching them in water from his flask helped.

"Would the both of you be silent?" Torran barked, green eyes glaring daggers at the two men from the depths of her mask-like tattoo. She carried herself as though the heat didn't touch her, even beneath the heavy leather and chain. Unlike the fairer men, her dusky skin showed no sign of burn, and her step never faltered as they marched through the swampy forest.

Daveth opened his mouth, no doubt readying the deployment of another of his seemingly endless supply of lecherous comments, then shut it as her eyes narrowed further. Bitch. Donning an air of cavalier indifference, the rogue increased the pace of his swagger until he was even with Alistair, leaving a nervous Jory to continue beside the scowling girl.

"So, er..." The big man began, hesitating as Torran's eyes flicked to him and back into the distance. He wiped his brow quickly then started again. "Ah, well, I was wondering how it was that you decided to join the Wardens?"

I don't think I'll survive the standing... "You haven't heard the rumours?" Torran murmured softly. "The news was pretty common, though perhaps moreso due to my arrival..." She ran her hand through her choppy hair reflexively, pulling lightly at the roots. The last tears had fallen with her shorn locks.

"Well, the Wardens aren't a particularly chatty bunch, I've found," Jory replied, brightening visibly at the prospect of holding a conversation with someone who didn't constantly snipe at him. "When I'm not at the camp, I'm usually offering my services at the Chantry with the wounded. My wife is a nurse, you see..."

Torran let his babble flow through the backdrop of her mind, concentrating instead on smothering the growing sense of unease stirring within her gut. The disquiet came from multiple directions, and the sole comfort she had was the soothing Nevarran dirge that had echoed beneath her thoughts since that night in the clearing.

For the first time since...leaving home, Bear was not by her side. The Warden guarding the gate to the Wilds refused to let her depart until sending her hound back to their fire, and she had done so with great reservation. Who was she supposed to trust to defend her? Bumbling, fearful Jory? Daveth, who would lay her on her back before watching it? Alistair seemed a nice enough fellow, but his lack of confidence was becoming more and more irritating as he led them off the well trod paths immediately surrounding Ostagar and deeper into the bog.

More than not trusting her companions, Torran felt she couldn't trust herself. How could she, when she started like a child at loud noises, or mere contact between human beings? Where had her will to fight gone? How would she defend herself against monsters if she could barely face men? What would Fergus say- Nothing. He would say nothing. He will never say anything ever again. Oh Gods, Fer- She shut down that line of thought, eyes squeezed shut as she drew in a deep breath.

"And then I told my boy...Um, are you alright, Tor-"

A branch snapped, and Alistair quickly held up a fist. His eyes scanned the surrounding flora, reaching out with both remnant Templar abilities and the bonds of the Taint for signs of the darkspawn's twisted signature. Damn. Slowly, he lowered his fist, and the group trouped onward. Sunlight filtered through the tightly interwoven bows of twisted trees. In the shadows of the dimly lit bog, everything felt muffled and muted. Hands strayed to weapons as thoughts turned to old tales about the Wilds, and the countless adventurers and armies swallowed up in its depths.

A few minutes passed, and Daveth chuckled uneasily. "Warden-senses tinglin', eh, Al?" He flinched as a low hanging branch brushed across his shoulder, and then scowled at Jory as the big man let out a bark of a laugh. The knight quieted as the bushes to their right rustled, ruddy face pinched with fear.

"Like an icicle stuck in my trousers," the fair haired Warden responded grimly, eyes still casting about for their foe. He could feel them all around them, but his eyes and ears told him nothing. Not even his sense of smell, amplified by the Taint coursing through his blood, could pick up the foul smelling darkspawn.

"Perhaps it was just a rabb-" Jory's voice disappeared as a discordant howl echoed throughout the forest. The three recruits cringed, holding their ears against the pain inducing cacophony. Alistair remained unaffected, sword and shield appearing in his hands in a flash as the area surrounding their small footpath came alive with growls and snarls.

"Ready yourselves!" He cried, whirling as he felt darkspawn moving in on him from all directions. Torran was the first of the recruits to recover, slinging her shield into place as her father's sword settled firmly into her palm. Daveth and Jory quickly followed suit, and the four arranged themselves in a loose diamond formation. The two lighter armored fighters stood closer to the center, while Jory held a large area to himself in order to swing his massive blade, and Alistair moved to where he could sense the most darkspawn.

Torran could feel her heart pounding as though trying to escape her chest. Sweat trickled down her brow, stinging her eyes and salting her chapped lips. Her mind raced, memories of that night surging to the fore as she struggled to keep herself focused on the present. All of a sudden, the ground shifted beneath her feet and she felt herself falling, a startled yelp escaping her lips as the path erupted into chaos.

"Below us!" Alistair shouted as a group of nightmarish creatures exploded from the ground all around them, and several dark shapes appeared between the trees to bear down on the small group.

Torran felt her stomach clench as she found herself staring up at a burly, humanoid figure with a terrifying snarl stretched across its pale face. Drool fell from its jagged fangs as beady, white eyes fixed hungrily upon her. A foul stench wafted from its gaping jaws, and she could feel bile rising in the back of her throat at the sight of scraps of pink flesh that her gut told her once belonged to a man, or woman, or child.

The hurlock's rusty blade whistled toward her head, and she barely raised her shield in time to block the blow that would have ended her. Her arm buckled at the force of the strike, and she threw herself into a roll to dodge the next blow, coming to her feet with a stagger, off-balanced. Her body felt slow, sluggish, and she barely responded in time to deflect the next blow with a weak parry that jarred her sword arm.

Fight, damn you! She stumbled back, narrowly missing a slash that would have emptied her intestines to the earth, raging internally at her weakness. I can't die yet! A stray sunbeam hit the flat of her blade, and suddenly all she could see was a pair of terrified green eyes surrounded by the inky black mask. Death's mask...Death for Howe...and any that stand in my way... Suddenly, the rage buried below the ice that had frozen her emotions solid blazed free like an inferno, and she felt the fatigue in her muscles burn away.

Her sword flashed, meeting the hurlock's blade with a clang, sparks flying as the solid steel of her father's sword met the rust covered iron weapon. The hurlock growled fiercely, spittle flying as it bore down on the girl with all its weight. She held the lock for a split second and then disengaged, stepping around the darkspawn as it lurched forward and delivering a powerful blow to the back of its head with her shield. Dazed, the hurlock couldn't respond in time to avoid the slash that severed its spinal cord and sent it to the ground in a heap.

... Torran stood over her fallen enemy, chest heaving as adrenaline raced through her veins. As she gazed down at the nightmarish creature, all she could see was the curled lip, the icy blue eyes, the hooked nose... the edge of her shield crushed the hurlock's windpipe with a loud crunch, and its movements stilled.

Sludgelike blood flowed over her wrist as she stood, streaking her tattooed arm with the foul smelling gore. They've gone to the Maker, Fergus... She whirled, barreling into a smaller darkspawn and forcing it to the earth with a shove of her shield. She stabbed it through the chest with a vicious blow, sending blood spurting into the air as its last breaths exited its body. Her sword struck a second time, and then a third, hammering its limp form as she released a cry of pure fury.

"Torran!" An armored hand pulled her away from the decimated corpse and behind a large shield that echoed with thunks as several arrows hammered into it. She flinched back as Alistair gazed down at her in concern. "Maker, woman! You may be prickly, but I doubt Duncan, much less your monster-dog, would appreciate me bringing home a Porcu-Torran!"

"Must you always make an attempt at humour?" Torran growled back in reply, body all but vibrating with the need to get back into the fray. ... She got to her feet, shield taking several arrows of its own as she moved so she and the warden were side by side.

"Short answer? Yes." Alistair winked, then took a peak over his shield. "Uhoh..." Somehow, the four had become separated in the fray. Daveth and Jory, each engaging their own foe, were too focused on the fight at hand to see the pair of archers sneaking towards them from just beyond the treeline. Unfortunately, two genlocks and a hurlock were approaching Torran and his position, and he could see another archer laying down the covering fire that was keeping his shield busy.

"Alistair, what's the plan?" Torran demanded, shifting so that her shield arm was to the persistent archer off to their left, and her sword the approaching darkspawn. They had mere moments, and if they didn't do something, their friends would be completely cut off and left to the mercy of the archers. "Alistair! The plan?"

"Uh..." Alistair's eyes flicked from their imperiled companions to the darkspawn quickly closing in on him and Torran. Think, dammit, think! "Er, don't die?"

Is he serious? Torran stared at him in disbelief, and then shook her head in disgust. Fine. Maker take him, anyway. "Daveth, archers at twenty paces right! Jory, switch!" She charged forward, agilely dodging the low strikes aimed at her knees from the genlocks and dive rolling underneath the hurlock's decapitating blow. A burst of speed got her out of range of the archer pinning down Alistair, and she quickly passed Jory as he lumbered into the hurlock with all the grace of a charging bear. Behind her, she could hear the two heavily armored men engaging the three darkspawn, though the arrow flashing by her ear told her the archer hadn't stayed to play.

Putting it out of mind, she quickly engaged the two genlocks, ducking, dodging, and parrying as they hammered her with powerful, though wild, blows. From the corner of her eye she could see Daveth flitting through the shadows, taking down one of the archers with a violent slash to the throat and moving in on the other as it became alerted to his presence.

There. Torran shoved hard with her shield, knocking the genlock on her left to the ground just far enough away to give her the necessary space to take care of its compatriot. A savage blow removed the beast's hand from its sword, and a second spilled its guts to the earth. A delighted grin stretched across her face as her sword lashed out, taking its head from its shoulders. ...

The second genlock climbed to its feet, hissing as it approached her with its dirty shortsword held aloft. She smirked. Three blows later found her kneeling over its still form, sword buried to the hilt in its gut as she slammed at its face with her shield. So wrapped up in her frenzy was she that she didn't see the remaining archer placing her in its sights, barbed arrow straining on the string...

Alistair dispatched his enemy cleanly, then looked up in disgusted fascination at the blood covered girl unleashing her rage on the all but juiced corpse on the ground before her. Jory pushed past him, lifting a finger in horror. "Torran! Torran, look out!"

"...ook out!" The shout cut through the bloodlust, and she lifted her eyes to see her companions gesticulating wildly to her right. She turned her head, everything moving in slow motion, and saw the hurlock archer bare its teeth in a cruel facsimile of a smile as it loosed its arrow. The shaft whistled through the air towards her upper body, and she felt a whisper of resignation seep into her heart.

Suddenly, a grey blur slammed into her, throwing her out of the path of the arrow. What in the world? Torran watched dazedly as one of Daveth's throwing knives took the archer, head spinning from the force that had carried her to the ground. What was that thing? She caught a flash disappearing down the path and scrambled to her feet, intent on following the creature away from the scene.

Ignoring the calls of her friends, she chased after it, staggering as the adrenaline faded from her bloodstream and the fatigue from lack of sleep, not to mention the battle, weakened her muscles. Just as she was about to give up the chase, she came upon the... Wolf. That is a very, very large wolf. The beast stared at her with a smug look in its golden eyes, then winked It winked? and ran away, disappearing into the forest like a shadow.

What was that thing? Torran stared after it, brow creased in confusion. Better yet, why would it save me?

"Torran! What in blazes?" Alistair and the others came charging around the bend, bloodied weapons still in hand. "Maker take me, what was that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine..." She replied tiredly, wiping her hands ineffectively on bloodsoaked leathers. The forest, eerily quiet during their engagement with the darkspawn force, returned to life. Sun trickled through the interwoven bows of the swamp trees, and crickets resumed their chirping.

"Um, here." Jory handed her her sword and shield, then stepped away quickly. After watching Torran go from a quiet, brooding girl to a bestial fighter, he wasn't sure which he should fear more.

"Thanks." Torran took the weapons reverently, rubbing her thumb softly over the chipped greenstone pommel before sheathing them on her back.

"Though I don't suppose you really need them anyways, eh?" Daveth remarked with a smirk, nodding at the blood that still dripped from the girl's gauntleted fingers. "An' here I thought the touch of a woman could soothe all creatures!"

"That's quite enough, all of you." Alistair cut in with an officious tone belied by his red-stained cheeks. "Let's get back and collect the blood from your kills, alright? The day is yet young, and there are still many darkspawn to face." Jory and Daveth groaned, but turned to head back to the corpses that were surely buzzing with flies in the heat. "Come on, come on! We can take a short break soon. It would be best if we left the area before more darkspawn happen upon us, so hop to it!"

Torran scoffed internally as she trailed after the three men. Now you have a plan, little Warden? A fallen branch snapped off to their side, and Jory jumped a clear three paces away from the sound as Daveth let loose a loud cackle at his companion. Alistair patted the larger man on the shoulder with a friendly smile. The grin slipped as he stepped knee deep off the small footpath and into the bog, cursing as the rogue snickered once again.

Where is Bear when I need him? Heaving a sigh, Torran prayed to any god that was listening that the day's expedition would come to an end soon, and she could finally confront Duncan about the letters tucked safely at her side.


The wolf watched the humans with humour filled golden eyes until they'd disappeared down the path, then quickly loped off, heading deeper and deeper into the Wilds. A journey that would've taken days by the known paths took mere minutes at the pace it set. A rundown shack soon appeared through the vines and tightly interwoven branches that characterized the dark, moody depths of the Korcari Wilds.

As the large creature approached the wooden building, a bright light rose around it like dawn's mist, and the lithe body of a young woman appeared in its place.

"I'm back, Mother." Silence. She stifled a sigh, schooling her features into a neutral mask as she entered the rough hovel. "Mother?" She raised her voice slightly, golden eyes flicking to the screened off section of the room that served as their shared bed-quarters.

"I'm here, girl." A grey haired woman with the same eyes stepped from behind the ragged cloth draped between rooms, a long bamboo cane held with both hands steadying her aging bones. "Must you constantly be so loud?"

"My apologies, Mother."

"Well, what is it, girl?"

"I was observing the human army earlier this morning..."

"Yes, yes, as I told you to. What did you see that made you feel you needed to return and bother me?"

"If you would but let me speak I would tell you..." the younger woman muttered sullenly, eyes flickering with barely concealed ire. "The Grey Wardens are conducting a Joining. One of them was a woman."

"A woman you say?" Ancient golden eyes brightened with anticipation. "Finally, it has begun!"

"Yes, Mother. What is to be our approach?"

"Continue to observe them. When the time comes, we will make ourselves known to the girl. Now leave me."

Eyes lowered a fraction. "As you wish, Mother."


Next Time: The Joining, a dream, and some new tricks up their sleeves.