They finally surrendered to exhaustion after walking for more than seven hours. It was well past midnight and the gibbous moon had crept past its zenith and was heading back down towards the horizon. They didn't bother with much of a camp, just a little fire Kya conveniently lit with a spell. That particular trick made Nate wonder why she'd let them blather around with flint and tinder, but then again, Kya did have a bit of perverse streak.

This place was called the Dragonbone Wastes. Being as close to Vigil's Keep as it was, Nate had heard about it as a child. Unlike Blackmarsh however, he'd never heard stories about this place, no matter how fantastical the name. It was one of those places that almost seemed too sacred and too powerful to disturb even with a tale. It was the ancient death grounds of dragons – rumored to be where dragons went when they knew they were dying. How much truth there was in that, Nate didn't know, but at the edges of the flickering light, bones of what only could have been dragons were bathed in faded gold and orange from the fire. It was an eerie place, thought he supposed the bones of dragons were far preferable to the real thing. He could feel some darkspawn somewhere, the taint quietly humming in his blood, but they weren't near enough to be of particular concern.

Kya offered to take the first watch and Nate hoped it would offer them an opportunity to talk, or at least try to get used to the idea of one another's company before they plunged into the abyss. Unfortunately the privacy they found wasn't nearly as private as Nate had been hoping for. Oghren and Sigrun disappeared behind a boulder just outside of the light of their fire, leaving them alone, sort of.

The sounds emanating from the two dwarves reminded Nate of spring on the bannorn, specifically when the cattle were breeding. It sort of threw off his stride, especially when Kya looked to be on the verge of swallowing her own tongue. Nate glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, noting that her ears were red and her eyes suspiciously merry, despite what was soon to come. It was painful to admit, but the combination of sighs, grunts and a moist sound that truly defied description, along with the mental image he was trying to block out? It was a damn fine distraction from impending doom.

"So," Kya snickered, catching him looking over at her. "How about those darkspawn? They really are lovely this time of year."

Nate barked a laugh involuntarily, slapping his hand over his mouth. The sounds from behind the rock stopped for a moment, were punctuated by a giggle and then resumed in earnest and with more volume. Kya raised an eyebrow at him wryly, but her smile didn't last.

He thought perhaps he understood where her mind went. Nate wondered if they shouldn't find a rock of their own to hide behind, but the idea of culminating this in the dirt somewhere just didn't seem right. Either they were going to die down in the Deep Roads and it wasn't going to matter, or they were going to live and then? Of course, on the other hand, if they died it wouldn't matter where and it might matter that it hadn't…Maker's blood. This was the sort of thinking that kept him away from women who didn't require coin for their companionship for the majority of his life. This thing was more than he could manage to wrap his head around. Wanting Nate understood, but this went so far beyond want to border on need; he hardly knew what to do with himself.

He fixated his attention on his hands and wished he had something to distract himself with. Maybe that's why those fighters who carried great swords were forever polishing the things. That thought led Nate's brain in a direction he hadn't intended; sword polishing became something entirely less appropriate. Even worse, his mind supplied an incredibly detailed mental image involving Kya and his room back at the Keep to go along with it. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck. Despite the cool air, a drop of sweat rolled down his spine, pooling uncomfortably at his tailbone. Apparently the symphony (wasn't that a grand metaphor for dwarves fucking) from outside the firelight was having more an impact on him than he thought.

He looked up at Kya again, wanting to commiserate with her, to admit his thoughts, his feelings – if he could manage to sort them out, that was. But the expression on her face stopped him and made that sweat suddenly feel cold and clammy. Her eyes had a blank faraway expression and her cheeks were pale. The dwarves fell silent only moments later, just as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Darkspawn," Kya whispered, slowly drawing to her feet, grabbing her sword from the ground beside her. Nate heard the distinctive sound of her sword sliding from its scabbard and the clink of armor plates as Oghren and Sigrun quickly dressed themselves. Sigrun appeared first, looking rumpled but any embarrassment was washed away by resolution. They had a job to do.

Nate managed to get his bow and quiver just as the small group appeared through the fog. There were only seven or eight; hurlocks and genlocks. They had that particular dull gleam that the usual darkspawn had – mindless. Nate never thought he'd be happy to see unthinking monsters running at him with naked blades, but then again, there were a lot of things he never expected.

Kya's sharp intake of breath startled Nate back into focus. He saw a line of blood well up on the back of her arm, rivulets of blood streaking and then spiraling down her arm. He felt the strange waver as her magic field encompassed him. He nocked an arrow and loosed it. The arrow imbedded itself in the neck of the lead Hurlock who fell to the ground with a gurgle. A bolt of violet lightning flashed from Kya's hands, sending two of the genlocks into convulsions.

Despite their quick reaction, the darkspawn had gotten close, too close. Nate stumbled back, as the noxious smell of hurlock and death hit him. He made to bash at it using his bow like a club, but before he could react one of Sigrun's daggers seemed to sprout out of its head. As he turned to thank her, he heard Kya scream. He whipped his head around, seeing the long gash open up the side of her robes on the wicked black length of the remaining hurlock's blade. The creature looked gleeful but its pleasure lasted only for a moment. Kya's high pitched shriek was drowned out by the keening of the hurlock.

There was a swirl in the air around them; a red shimmeringas her magic attacked the darkspawn. The beast lifted up on to his toes as if it was being held by some invisible hand. Its skin seemed to ripple with veins, the blood splitting through the surface in so many places Nate couldn't keep track. It was as if its blood was boiling and maybe it was. Nate could hear the dwarves finishing off the genlocks, and knew his attention should be with them, despite how they seemed to be handling the situation well without him. He was completely fixated on watching Kya's magic tear the hurlock apart from the inside out.

The hurlock's baying became a whimper and then a gurgle as black ichor bubbled up through its lips. Kya saw it too and severed the magical connection, allowing the thing to collapse into a heap. She wobbled a little, but kept her feet. She was as pale as a corpse and just as calm. Nate on the other hand felt a lot more unsettled. He'd never seen anything like that before. She used magic often enough and he knew from Anders constant complaints that Kya had blood magic in her repertoire. What he hadn't seen was any real difference between her magic fueled by blood and her magic fueled by...whatever it was that mages used. Mana, lyrium, something. This was the first magic she'd done in his presence that was what he would have expected from the infamous blood magic.

"Neat trick," Sigrun piped up before Nate found his voice. "Too bad dwarves can't do magic. That really looks handy."

"It's useful," Kya said wryly, looking a bit surprised at Sigrun's reaction. "Not my first choice in a fight, but I wasn't really ready. Not caught with my pants down to the extent you were." She chuckled a bit and then winced, touching her side gingerly.

Clearly she'd expected more of the horror that Nate knew his face was showing. It was easy to forget Kya was a mage, especially since she fought more often in armor with a sword than slinging spells. Granted, he knew it was her magic that powered the strength behind her blade, but it was easy to put out of his mind. Like most Fereldan's, Nate wasn't entirely comfortable with magic. And this was worse, since blood magic was the one thing the Chantry always said was unforgivable; the cause of the darkspawn and the Blights. Which if it was true, was an odd choice for a Grey Warden, and Nate knew from history that Kya was hardly the first blood mage in the Grey Warden ranks. In the end, none of that really mattered. Nate didn't care much for the Chantry or their ilk. He had to admit that this was a child's reaction to the unknown. It was even more disturbing in truth, because it was coming from a woman Nate was fair certain he was falling in love with.

Maker help him.

"Well," was all he could manage. Not that he supposed himself particularly eloquent, but this was a bit beneath his usual wit. "That was surprising."

Kya frowned. "It's always my last resort," she said quietly. "But one more step and I would have had grey iron in my lungs." She grimaced. "Speaking of…." She glanced down at her side again, the slash in the worn red fabric, the spreading stain of her own blood. Nate wondered how he managed to ignore her injury, just because she used some unexpected magic to save herself. After all, what was she supposed to do? Pray? Hope the Maker himself would appear out of the Fade to intervene?

Nathaniel Howe always prided himself on being practical. Where exactly had his practicality gone? Kya did what she had to, just as when he poisoned his arrows and his daggers. He was a fine one to judge her. He mentally slapped himself upside the head and went to her. Prepared as always, he had a gauze bandage pressed to the wound to stop the bleeding while she recovered enough to heal herself.

"I…," he started to say and stopped. He just did his best to look sorry and sheepish instead. She seemed to accept his unspoken apology.

"I think I may have finally destroyed these robes beyond repair," Kya said quietly, looking down at the mangled mess of her robes. "I wore these all through the Blight; I wore them at Ostagar."

"You may be right," he had to agree. "Maybe it's time for something new. Some of those fur and feather trimmed Chasind style like that elf had?"

Kya smirked at him. "You mean the ones that show cleavage to my navel and my legs all the way to my waist?"

He grinned in reply. "I can think of worse things."

"You're a pervert," she said, her voice low and sly.

"Am I now?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "I'll have to test my theory." She didn't wait for him this time. She'd been hesitant to touch him for more than a quick brush of hair or tentative fingers. Battle wore her uncertainty away, it seemed. Or maybe it was his quick acceptance of her magic and who she was. He was rather proud of himself for that after all; maybe she was too. She leaned in close and kissed him, not even stopping when she sent a wave of magic over them both healing both her wounds and his.

It tickled a little.