Morrigan raised an eyebrow as Arren joined her at her fire again that night. "Are you regretting yet your impetuous decision to add the talkative assassin to our group?"

Arren smiled slightly. "Just a little, possibly. He does seem to go on and on, doesn't he?"

"Yes. Though I must admit to being amused by how easily he makes your friend Alistair blush. I have never before seen a grown man turn so many different shades of red in the course of a single afternoon."

Arren made a face. "I really should put a stop to that."

Morrigan glanced sideways at him as she carefully spooned up some of her supper. "You certainly didn't hesitate to stop me from teasing him," she pointed out archly.

Arren frowned and shifted uncomfortably. "I might have, if you'd been... gentler about it," he said hesitantly after a moment, then looked down at the plate in his hands, stirring his stew but not lifting up the spoon. "You were kind of harsh on him."

Morrigan found herself looking away. "Perhaps," she admitted reluctantly, then sighed. "I have little experience with... gentleness, or kindness. Or humour that is not meant maliciously. My mother is... not an easy person to live with. I fear I take after her in many ways."

Arren nodded. "Well. I suppose we all take after the people who have raised us, to one degree or another."

There was a loud outburst from the other campfire, and the two of them glanced that way to see Leliana and Zevran bent over with laughter, Alistair standing there turning so red it was noticeable from where they were, though by the expression on his face it was currently as much from anger as embarrassment.

"I may need to go rescue him," Arren said, frowning.

"By the way Alistair is flexing his hand, 'tis the assassin you may need to rescue," Morrigan observed. "I suspect Alistair is wishing he had his sword in hand. Whatever could the elf have said to so enrage him?"

Arren sighed. "I'd better go find out," he said. He hesitated a moment, looking at his half-eaten plate, before putting it down and smiling at her as he rose to his feet. "I'll be back. I hope."

She nodded, and watched him stalk over to the other fire, admiring how gracefully he moved. He stopped and spoke to the three for a moment. Leliana and Zevran recoiled slightly; he must have spoken sharply to them. Leliana backed off and sat down near her tent, turning her shoulder to those at the fire, face cool and composed, but by the stiff way she was sitting and the pointed way she holding up her head Morrigan guessed the woman was feeling offended. The assassin, on the other hand, appeared to be apologizing sincerely to Alistair before he retreated to the far side of the fire from the bard, where he stood at his ease, seeming not at all put out by whatever it was Arren had said.

Arren put his hand on Alistair's arm and led him away, the two disappearing into darkness under the nearby trees, Mouse rising to his feet and trotting after the pair.

Morrigan waited for a few minutes, then found her curiosity getting the better of her. She put down her plate and moved out of sight of the people around the other fire, then transformed into a wolf and darted off into the forest, circling around the clearing, sniffing the air and listening cautiously until she located the Wardens and hound. She slunk carefully through the darkness towards where they were.

She finally spotted the two under a tree, Arren leaning one shoulder against the trunk, his ankles crossed, Alistair sitting on a fallen log nearby, forearms resting on his knees and Mouse curled up at his feet. The mabari looked up curiously at her approach, but easily recognized her and, deciding she was no threat, lowered his head back down to his forepaws. She settled down in the shadows under a wide-spread bush nearby, forcing herself to concentrate on and listen to their voices.

"Make fun of my comrade-in-arms? Perish the thought. Well, you tell me: have you ever licked a lamppost in winter?" Alistair was asking Arren. Judging by his tone of voice, the way he lifted his chin, and most tellingly of all, his deep blush, she assumed it was not, in fact, actual lampposts he was referring to.

Arren's lips twitched into his usual crooked smile. She liked that smile; it seemed equally part knowing and part mischievous-boy somehow. And partly, too, as if he was amused at his own amusement.

"No, I've never licked a lamppost in winter," he replied calmly.

Alistair looked surprised for a moment, then hastily responded. "Good. I hear it's quite painful. I remember one of the younger initiates did it on a dare, once, and there was pointing and laughing... oh, the humanity." He paused, then looked away from Arren, voice dropping, speaking shyly. "I, myself, have also never done it. That. Not that I haven't thought about it, of course, but... you know."

Wait. 'That?' And 'lamposts?' They were talking about sex. And by the sound of it, both were claiming to be... inexperienced. Virginal. Which she admitted she could easily believe of Alistair, it certainly explained how easily and deliciously the poor thing blushed, but... Arren too?

She's missed part of the conversation, she realized, and forced herself to focus again. The one major drawback of shapeshifting – animals regarded entirely different things as important to pay attention to than humans did. If she wanted to follow a scent-trail or be very aware of any potential prey moving in the area, then wolf was perfect. But for listening to conversations... not so much. It was just noise.

"...they raised me to be a gentleman. That's not so bad, is it?" Alistair asked, a little anxiously, glancing over at Arren again.

"Not really, no," Arren agreed.

Alistair nodded, then looked down at his hands, weaving his finger together. "I've... no urge to rush into anything. We may not even survive what is to come, after all," he said quietly, then abruptly rose to his feet. "Enough. I don't want to talk about this any more. Let's go."

Arren smiled and straightened up. "You go back, I feel like staying out here for a little while longer. If Zevran starts annoying you again, do your best to ignore it. Or hit him over the head with your shield, whichever you prefer."

Alistair laughed. "It might come to that. Thanks, Arren."

"No problem."

Alistair nodded and turned, walking off through the forest back toward the clearing where they were camped, moving anything but silently through the woods. She could make less noise moving in full-sized bear-form than the warrior managed. She rose to her own four feet, meaning to circle back around to her fire again.

"Morrigan," Arren said quietly.

She froze, then stepped out from underneath the bush and transformed back to human, and sighed. "What gave me away?" she asked curiously.

Arren smiled that lovely little crooked smile of his again, and nodded at Mouse, who'd looked up interestedly at her transformation, and now gave his tail a short wag as they both looked at him. "He did. I saw him notice something and decide it was no threat, and once I knew where to look I was able to pick out a little of your shape. I wouldn't have noticed at all if it hadn't been for him; you sneak very well."

Morrigan smiled proudly. "Well, that's something at least," she said lightly.

"So... any particular reason why you decided to spy on a private conversation between Alistair and myself?" Arren asked, voice hardening abruptly.

"I... no," she said, and flushed, realizing abruptly that she was in the wrong. "Curiosity, I suppose," she admitted reluctantly.

Arren nodded. "Don't do it again," he said flatly. "If I catch you at it, you can just head straight back to the wilds and your mother. And don't you dare ever think of using anything you just overheard against Alistair," he added, a note of real anger in his voice.

"I wouldn't," she said softly.

He nodded. "Go back to camp," he ordered.

She nodded, then hesitated. "I'm sorry," she said softly, then turned away and walked off, circling back to her campsite.

He didn't return to her fire that night after all. She didn't suppose she could blame him for that.