Morrigan smiled welcomingly as Arren walked over to join her at her fire, a plate of stew in each hand. He handed her both plates, so that he could take off and put aside his sword before sitting down beside her. Not actually touching her – there was still a couple handspans of distance between them – but much closer than the arm's length distance he normally sat. He reclaimed his plate from her, and they began to eat, darting little sideways looks and pleased smiles at each other between bites.

The stew was very good tonight, the hares seethed in the broth of yesterday's leftovers along with fresh herbs, vegetables and wine until it was so tender it was falling apart in flavourful shreds. They both made pleased sounds as they ate it. Morrigan eventually set her empty plate to the side, raising her knees and resting her folded arms on them as she watched Arren continue eating his way through his extra-large helping. "The way you and Alistair eat, perhaps I should have tried for a third hare," she observed.

Arren grinned. "It's a good thing we have several good hunters in the party. And a few people good at gathering or scavenging," he added. "And some good at more than one of them," he added, acknowledging that Morrigan's ability to identify all sorts of odd edibles had more than once contributed grains, wild greens and roots, edible fungi, and the like to stretch out their meals. As had Arren's own knowledge of wild edibles, though his was more specialized – for many of the plants he knew best, the growing conditions were rather specific to forested locations, and of little help when they were in grasslands, cultivated farmland, or even just the wrong type of forest. Though at least his skill with a bow in hunting worked equally well everywhere.

Morrigan shifted a little closer to Arren as he finished eating and put his plate down. She leaned against his arm. "So. Are you still interested in further practise?" she asked softly.

Arren smiled warmly at her. "I do believe I am," he agreed quietly.

An outburst of laughter made them both look over to the other fire, where Alistair and Mouse seemed to be having some sort of altercation, Leliana almost falling over backwards as she howled with laughter, Wynne looking on with disapproval.

"Perhaps not here though," Arren said meditatively.

Morrigan nodded, and rose to her feet. "Come," she said, and walked away into the darkness, Arren silently rising to his feet as well and following her.

She led the way up to the top of a low rise nearby, one topped by a dense thicket of thorn-covered canes; raspberry, or perhaps blackberry, it was hard to tell in the darkness. Morrigan led the way around to the far side of them. Standing, they could still see the camp clearly; when they sat down in the grasses on the far side of the clump from camp, they were screened from sight.

This time they sat down right beside each other. Arren looked a little hesitant at first, but Morrigan simply smiled at him and leaned companionably against his side again. "How much longer until Redcliffe, do you think?" she asked, turning her head to look at him, thinking how handsome he was and how the subtle tattoos on his forehead merely accentuated his looks rather than hiding or marring them.

He made a face. "Two days, perhaps. We should be getting into the hills around the south end of the lake tomorrow."

Morrigan nodded. "You seem to know the country quite well for someone who has never travelled it," she remarked.

Arren smiled in amusement. "Yes, well, there's these things called maps, you know – Alistair and I bought some in Lothering."

Morrigan snorted and shook her head. "Tsk. And here I thought 'twas some elven mystery that gave you such thorough knowledge of the road."

Arren's smile turned into a grin. "Well, I do know at least a little about the geography of Ferelden outside the Brecilian Forest – this was once our land, after all, and the clans still travel widely to gather together once each decade for the meeting of clans, the Arlathvhen, or to migrate to different areas when necessary."

Morrigan gave Arren an interested look. "I have heard of the gathering. I found it hard to imagine all the clans across Thedas coming together in one location."

Arren nodded, expression turning serious. "It is a dangerous time for the clans. A long way to travel, and often involving having to pass through areas where the clans are in danger of being preyed on by humans – bandits, slavers and the like. My own clan is moving north right now; when I left camp it was still being debated whether to take the long route to the west through Orlais, or to travel to the coast and hope to hire ships to ferry the aravels and halla across. Both have their dangers; we are little loved in Orlais, home as it is to the chantry, but on the other hand crossing by boat requires putting the clan at the mercy of ships' captains who may be more mercenary than honourable. Tevinter pays well for elven slaves," he added, face darkening in anger for a moment. He paused in thought for a moment. "I think they will go north. It would take enough ships for the ferrying – or enough separate trips for one or two ships – that there would never be enough elves on any single crossing to be a lucrative enough incentive for slavery."

"Will they return to Ferelden afterwards?" Morrigan asked, curiously.

Arren shook his head unhappily. "I think not. The Brecilian Forest has been becoming too overcrowded of late; Keeper Marethari has mentioned a time or two that it might be better for the clan to find a new territory up north. And especially with the Blight going on here there is an extra inventive to stay away once they have crossed the Waking Sea."

"So you will never see them again?"

Arren smiled crookedly. "Likely not. But that would be true even if they stayed in the south; I am a Grey Warden now – my path is no longer that of the Dalish, and my ties to the clans are gone," he said sadly, then looked away uncomfortably.

Morrigan said nothing, just leaned her head against his shoulder, and slipped her hand into his, offering silent comfort. The conversation had become more serious than she had expected; she should have kept things light, she found herself thinking.

After a few minutes he sighed, and turned to press his lips to the top of her head. She raised, it, turning to look at him questioningly. He didn't say anything, just raised his free hand to touch the side of her face, then slowly leaned forward to kiss her.

It was a gentle, tentative kiss. A sweetly innocent kiss, and somehow all the more erotic for not being practised, or demanding or any of the other things she was used to from the men she'd had experience with in the past. The kiss ended. The two exchanged a warm smile, then Arren closed the distance and kissed her a again, a little more heatedly this time, trying a different angle, using a little tongue.

Perhaps, she found herself thinking as she closed her eyes in pleasure, what made it so much better with Arren is that this wasn't a taking; this was a sharing.

After their third kiss she shifted position, turning to face towards him, her legs folded under her and took his hand, moving it to touch the curve of her breast. He swallowed nervously, gave her an intent, almost questioning look, then leaned forward and kissed her again, his long fingers caressing her skin as he slid them underneath the draped folds of her bodice. She hummed in approval as his fingers found and touched her nipple, feeling it harden and ache at his touch. His own breath caught for a moment, his fingers stilling, then when she pressed forward slightly against his hand, resumed their gentle exploration.

After a few minutes he sat back, looking flushed, and gave her a heated look. She smiled warmly at him, then leaned forward and ghosted a kiss over his cheek. She kissed the skin just below his ear lobe, before slowly licking her way along its outer edge. He froze for a moment, not even breathing, then gave a soft little exhalation of pleasure that made her stomach tighten in pleasant anticipation. She repeated the motion, then had to stop and catch her own breath for a moment as his fingers traced along the edge of her bodice, up the outer curve of the fabric and around back of her neck, seeking the fastening that held the drape of leather in place. He frowned after a moment, unable to figure out just how the clasp there should be undone. She smiled, then straightened and sat back, reaching up to unfasten it herself.

A loud feminine shriek broke the quiet of the night. She and Arren scrambled to their feet, turning to look toward the camp and see what the commotion was. The source of the scream was quickly obvious; an enraged Leliana was busy chasing Mouse across the campsite.

"Give them back, you stinking beast! My lovely shoes!" she exclaimed, voice rising to a shriek of anger.

Arren groaned softly, then looked at Morrigan. "Sorry, I'd better go sort this out," he apologized.

Morrigan nodded. "So I see. I suppose we'll have to resume this another night," she said. She watched him hurry away downhill, and prudently decided to remain away from camp a little longer to avoid the fuss going on below. She sat back down again, sighing in disappointment.

A few minutes later she looked up sharply, hearing a crackling sound as something moved in the bushes behind her. "Who is there?" she asked sharply, turning to look, flames spring up around her hand.

A pitiful whine was her only answer. "Oh, 'tis you. What have you been up to this evening to so enrage the bard?" she asked suspiciously, letting the flames fade and resuming her seat.

Mouse crawled out of the bushes, ears and tail lowered, and flopped down dejectedly beside her. He opened his mouth, and the well-chewed remnants of a fine leather shoe dropped out onto the ground.

"Oh dear... you have been a very naughty dog this evening, haven't you?" Morrigan said, unable to keep her amusement from her voice.

Mouse whined again, lowering his head to the ground and looking pitifully at Morrigan. She sighed, and reached out to stroke his head. "I am not the one you need to ask for forgiveness," she pointed out, then abruptly rose to her feet. "Though I suppose it would be best if you avoided camp for the rest of the night. Perhaps she'll have cooled down by morning. Come, we will go for a run, and then you can spend the night at my fire, all right?"

By the time Mouse had bounced back to his feet, tail wagging happily, a wolf stood in Morrigan's place. The two turned and trotted off into the night together, Morrigan leading the way.