Author's Note: Retailoring an already-written chapter can sometimes be harder than writing a new one from scratch, but there were elements in the first version of this that I wanted to keep, so I made the attempt, though I'm not certain about the results. I'd be interested in the opinions of anyone who remembers the first version as to how this one compares, and in the coherence overall.

This chapter takes place after the events in Chapter 6 of MIT, on the journey to Soldier's Peak.


"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."

- Unknown


"The Blight. How do you propose to end it?"

Brego lifts his head, regarding the Sten as he approaches his Talia, towering over her. She looks up from the fire, the whetstone pausing in its steady path along her blade. She is not afraid of him; she is afraid of nothing these days, except for whatever chases her from sleep, and Brego cannot fight those things. He is hungry to serve his Talia, near desperate to do something - if he only knew what! - to drive the scents of rage and grief from her, to hear her laugh again, to have her join him in play.

"We have to kill the archdemon," she replies, her voice toneless, her eyes dropping once again to her task.

"And how do you plan to accomplish this?" He does not shout; he never shouts, outside of battle, but his voice is loud, nonetheless, and there is a hardness to it that is new. Brego tenses, sniffing the air, but there is no trace of anger or aggression in the silent one's unique scent. 'Qunari', they call him, and 'Sten', the latter more than the former, though neither has any meaning for the mabari. Sometimes, he can catch a hint of a smell that might be sadness coming from the large male, but it is always fleeting, gone before he can identify it properly and leaving only the alien scent that defies all his attempts to learn more of this member of their pack. "The darkspawn are behind us. Do you intend to travel north until it becomes south and attack the archdemon from the rear?"

"We're going to Soldier's Peak, Sten." Weariness laces his Talia's tone, along with frustration and a sliver of anger at the challenge. "If we're going to be taken seriously as Grey Wardens, we need to have something besides the ass-kicking we took at Ostagar to show the people we're going to be asking to ally themselves with us."

"And you believe that fleeing from the darkspawn to an abandoned ruin will impress them?" He cocks his head, regarding her steadily. "I find that unlikely."

"We're not fleeing," his Talia growls, the scent of her anger growing, "and according to Levi, the keep is far from abandoned. Besides," she continues, giving Alistair a mirthless smile, "it was a Warden holding. Maybe we'll find something there that explains how to kill the archdemon." She had argued bitterly with Alistair about the change of course, and in the two days since they started northward, the tension between them is still strong, worrying Brego. He likes Alistair, but if he challenges his Talia for leadership of their pack, Brego will fight him, however reluctantly.

He feels no such liking for the Sten, however, and his eyes remain locked on the large male, his body tensed, ready to spring at the first hint of hostility.

"But you do not know if such information will be found there." The Sten scowls at this. "You say that you are a Grey Warden. I have heard stories of this order."

"Well, good to know that the order's reputation has spread as far as... Qunari-land, or wherever it is that you're from. What are your lands called, anyway?" Alistair speaks quickly, his tone high with the nervousness that seeps from his pores, replacing the anger at their pack leader. He is trying to distract the Sten, trying to protect her. He will fight beside her, should the Sten attack.

His Talia ignores Alistair, coming to her feet. "You doubt that we are Grey Wardens?" she challenges him, almost eagerly. She is ready for a fight, hungry for battle as she always is now, and Brego readies himself to come to her aid, should it come to fighting. The Sten is formidable in combat, possibly a match for Brego, himself, but if he must die to protect his Talia, he will do so willingly.

Sten does not answer his Talia's challenge with aggression of his own; he simply stares down at her, ignoring Alistair's words as though he had not spoken. A faint hint of what he now knows as magic touches Brego's nostrils, crisp and sharp with potential: Morrigan is watching from her place beside the stewpot, her alert scent belying her seemingly casual posture and the lazy interest in her golden eyes. Leliana is watching, as well, her expression worried and her hand sliding carefully toward her bow. They will also aid his Talia, should the Sten attack her, and this knowledge heartens him; the dissension in their pack is not so great as he feared.

The little man that Brego had caught outside their camp sits on the far side of the fire, eyes wide and the scent of alarm strong, but he is not a part of their pack, and Brego has ignored him since his Talia gave the order to release his hold on the man's leg. In a fight, he might aid the one who has agreed to aid him, and though he will surely not be much help or hindrance, Brego does not believe he would ally himself with the Sten.

Shale is another matter. The stone simply watches: unmoving, eyes glowing faintly, emitting no scent, giving no indication from its posture as to who it might side with. If it joins the Sten, even the combined strength of the rest of the pack will be hard pressed to best them.

"Great strategists and peerless warriors. That is what we were told of the Wardens." The Sten's nostrils flare as he shakes his head slowly. "So far, I am not impressed."

"I'm not here to impress you!" his Talia snarls, fist clenched until the knuckles are white around the grip of her sword, rage pouring off of her in every scent and sound, and Brego trembles with the need to attack whatever has angered her so, rend it with his teeth until it is no more. If he could catch even a hint of aggression from the Sten, he would attack without hesitation, but his scent remains bafflingly free of any trace of emotion, violent or otherwise.

He studies her for a long, silent moment, then replies, "Evidently not. It remains to be seen just what you are here for." Turning, he strides calmly to the edge of camp, where his bedroll is laid out. His Talia watches the Sten go, then sheaths her sword and spins with a muttered oath, stalking away from the fireside to the opposite side of camp, then out of sight.

"Talia –"

"Don't." Alistair holds out a hand to restrain Leliana as she starts to follow his Talia. "Just let her cool down for a bit." Brego can smell the relief and worry from both of them, but his greatest attention is claimed by the scents that his Talia emanates: anger and grief, which are common for her these days, and fear, which is not. She is afraid...and the Sten is the cause.

Brego's hackles stand on end, and he walks, stiff-legged, toward the qunari, barely hearing Alistair's voice:

"Andraste's silk knickers...I changed my mind. Get her, now."

Brego ignores the words, and Leliana's swift departure. His eyes are locked upon the Sten, who glances up as he approaches. Brego lets his lips skin back from his teeth, a low growl rumbling up from his chest. This qunari will learn his place in the pack.

The Sten's eyes are calm, not a trace of fear or aggression in his scent as he leans forward slightly...and growls back.

"Grrrrrrrrrr."

Brego pauses, astonished, but quickly recovers, determined to make his point. He takes another step forward, his growl louder, and is echoed again by the Sten:

"GRRRRRRRR."

And still, there is nothing in his scent to trigger either triumph or an attack. Is the Sten playing a game? In spite of his anger, Brego lets his tail give a single, cautious bob as he growls again.

Instead of growling in return, the Sten sits back and nods, a faint scent of approval touching him. "Yes. You are a true warrior, and worthy of respect."

Loyal Brego is without doubt, but he is also at least somewhat susceptible to flattery, and he utters a curious whine as his tail bobs up and down once, twice...still ready to attack, should his nose give him a reason.

"What's going on?" His Talia approaches, looking from Brego to the Sten. "Brego, leave him be. He's an...ally."

There is no real censure in her tone, but Brego obeys immediately, stepping to her side and allowing his fur to lay flat. The Sten regards her as calmly as he did Brego.

"That such a creature would follow you would seem to indicate that there is more to you than it seems. I hope that its loyalty is not misplaced."

Talia says nothing in response, merely turns and walks away, her hand on Brego's head as clear an order to follow as a tug on a leash...which he has not required since the days of his puppyhood. He stays at her side as she walks out of camp again, sinking down on the side of a hill and leaning into him as her eyes turn upward to the sliver of a moon overhead.

"So do I."