Nathaniel was pacing a trench in the dirt in front of the inn, bow rustling restlessly against his back with each step. He'd sent the others to gather some breakfast, hoping that by the time they got back the Commander would have returned. An action designed to make him feel like she hadn't been gone all that long...but it had backfired horribly.

He should've kept someone with him, to distract him. Sigrun would've kept him from paying attention to the time. She was always trying to make him laugh, she said he didn't do it enough. The dark-haired woman was getting fairly good at it, too.

But all alone, it was impossible to ignore the feeling scratching at the walls of his mind.

Something was wrong. Something had happened to the Commander.

Every passing second made his suspicion worse and worse. By the time the others returned, he must have looked like a man gone mad, because their reactions were immediate.

"Andraste's skirt, what's wrong with you?" Anders asked, nearly dropping the loaf of bread in his hands.

"Nathaniel," Sigrun said sternly, her dark eyes narrowed, "are you all right?"

"I'm...worried, about the Commander." He briefly explained the last time he'd seen her. "She's been gone far too long."

"Ah, boy! You're too soft!" Oghren scoffed. "That girl can take of herself. Probably saw a man hotter than that goofy Chantry boy she's got at home and took him for a spin!"

Sigrun shot the other dwarf a black look. "You really think something happened to her?" she asked Nathaniel.

He swallowed hard. Saying it all out loud made it sound so ridiculous. Perhaps he was overreacting. "I suppose I might be-" He broke off suddenly, and his fists clenched painfully.

"What?" Sigrun said sharply.

"That's the boy. The one she left with," he gritted out between his teeth, eyes fixed dangerously through the gap in the crowd. He must not loose him, he must not let the boy melt away into the surrounding people.

"Where?" Anders demanded.

"Over there, by the apple cart."

Belying his earlier dismissive remarks, Oghren was crossing the market place before anyone else could move. Displaying restraint Nathaniel hadn't thought the drunken dwarf capable of, he kept his war cries to a minimum as he threw a gnarled hand around the back of the boy's neck.

Dragging the boy mercilessly, the dwarf threw him onto the ground at Nathaniel's feet. "What did you do with her? Where is she?" he growled, squatting near the boy's head. "You'll talk, pipsqueak, because my axe has split melons bigger than your runty carcass!"

Looking up from the ground, the boy's fear was plainly scrawled across his grubby features. He tried to scramble backwards, only to collide with Anders' shins. His next route of escape was then blocked by Sigrun. The full terror of the situation oozed across his young features, and his wide eyes were filled with appeal.

Appeal that was falling on deaf ears, as far as Nathaniel was concerned. He thought Oghren's approach looked wonderfully satisfying. Anything to dampen the rage and terror that wailed through his blood. His fault. He should've stopped her. Who had hurt her? His Commander, his friend-

He bent low, sliding one of his daggers out of its sheath. "Where is she, lad?" he whispered. "Where did you lead her?" Holding the knife sideways, he let the sunlight glint off the blade, flashing into the child's terrified eyes.

Sigrun shoved his hand away, and threw him a reproachful look over her shoulder. "Our friend," she said gently to the boy, "you lead her somewhere. Where did you take her?"

Latching onto Sigrun's kindness, and most likely the fact that she was a woman, the boy faced her. "I...I just took her to a spot in the woods! Just outside of town! Not far, I swear!"

"Why?" Anders asked quickly, interrupting the growl that was beginning to rumble in Nathaniel's chest.

"They...they told me to! They gave me money, see?" The boy reached into the pocket of his dirt-stained trousers and pulled out a handful of silver pieces.

"They who?" Nathaniel almost shouted, but managed the quell it at the last minute. They already had more attention than was good for them. The interrogation of this street urchin was beginning to be a roadside attraction.

"They didn't tell me who they were!" the child answered desperately. "They just told me to get her there!"

"Will you take us there, please?" Sigrun asked.

The child looked at her slyly, and Nathaniel could see him weighing how much this information was worth to them. Something inside him threatened to snap. The boy had two more seconds before Nathaniel Howe followed in his father's footsteps and committed an atrocity.

"Put it this way," Anders said in a very conversational tone, drawing the boy's attention. The mage allowed lightning to crackle between his palms. "You won't be able to spend those silvers if you're, say, a newt. Catch my meaning, my little friend?"

The boy gulped audibly. Reaching out, he grabbed Sigrun's hand. "I'll take you there," he said in a tiny voice.

"Good lad," Nathaniel said icily.

They left the marketplace, then Lothering. Entering the nearby forest, the shadows cast by the overhanging trees were nothing compared to the shadows racing through Nathaniel's heart. While they were walking, the vile voices in his head started over again.

Excellent job, that. Letting her go off by herself. I don't give a damn that she's your Commander, she's also the Queen of bloody Ferelden. You don't listen when she says things like, "I'm going for a walk." You just don't. What kind of daft, idiotic moron, are you? If she's hurt, you'd best throw yourself into the nearest river with your pockets filled with rocks, since you'll be officially the most Maker-forsaken useless man in the world. Or, you could always wait for the King to behead you. That works, too.

"Would you mind unclenching...everything, Nathaniel?" Sigrun suggested from in front of him, where the boy still had a death grip in her hand. She had turned around, and was giving him her best glower. "You're going to burst a blood vessel. Probably an important one, too."

Despite everything, he had a wild urge to laugh.

"There, right there!" the boy exclaimed, pointed ahead of them. "Can I go...please?"

"You may," Sigrun said. The boy tried to dash away, but the former legionnaire grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging him in front of her face. "Mark my words, dirt clod. If you have played us for fools, I will hunt you down myself. Do I make myself clear?"

The boy nodded frantically.

She gave him a smile that was more a baring of teeth, and the tattoos on her face shifted menacingly. "With that in mind, are you sure this where you led her?"

"Swear," he whispered.

"By the stone, you better be telling the truth...for your sake." Sigrun released the boy, who disappeared so fast for a moment Nathaniel had to convince himself that he'd been there at all.

Looking at Sigrun, he saw her normally dark skin had an ashen tone to it. "Impressive," he said tightly. Seemed a ridiculous time to be reassuring her, but he oddly couldn't help himself.

"Well, I am impressive, so that's to be expected," she responded, but it wasn't with her usual flare. "Ready?"

He nodded.

Sigrun turned and nodded to Oghren, who hefted his axe and gave her a lecherous wink. The pair of them entered the clearing first. The short, scrubby brush swung closed behind them and Nathaniel felt his heart accelerate as it always did at these moments. Waiting to see if there were foes to be fought, waiting to pick his position, waiting for the information the scout was to deliver.

"Anders!"

Sigrun's scream filled Nathaniel's throat with bile. The mage jolted with surprise, before he took off at a run. Nathaniel was hot on his heels, his mind throwing image after horrid image before his eyes. They crashed through the underbrush, and came to a grinding halt on the other side.

Sigrun was in the middle of a clearing, kneeling in a pool of blood beside a hulking form.

"Jacob," whispered Nathaniel, his voice sounding like someone else's to his ears.

With a groan, Anders ran over and got to his knees beside the mabari. An ethereal glow began to coalesce around his hands.

Nathaniel gritted his teeth and looked away. From his position, the dog looked dead. But fortunately, that was not his news to break to Sigrun, whose desperate sobs made him want to cover his ears.

The rest of the scene in front of his eyes threatened to overwhelm him, too. Given the choice between attempting to sort out the visual mess versus trying to deal with the gut-wrenching weeping coming from the dwarf, Nathaniel firmly fixed his gaze upon the clearing.

Blood. Crossbow bolts. Shattered glass. Drag marks. Blood. Torn pieces of cloth. Broken branches. Trampled grass. Discarded daggers. Blood.

Oh, Maker preserve him...

Think, Nathaniel! hisbrain shouted. Think! You're of no use if you can't think!

Pressing his palms hard against his temples, he tried to breathe evenly. To stop seeing the implications of what was before him and see the pieces instead.

Blood. Someone or someones, maybe the Commander or maybe not, was hurt. Badly by the looks of the amount splashed all over the ground. The bolts meant she'd fired at least half a dozen times. Short work for someone as skilled at the Commander. They also meant that perhaps the blood wasn't hers, at all.

His foot prodded a large piece of glass gingerly. With no bodies around, the drag marks were obvious. They'd cleaned up their casualties. Common bandits didn't, as a general rule, bother to remove the bodies of their comrades. Reaching down, he brought the shard of glass near his nose.

Nathaniel recoiled instantly. He was no assassin, so poisons and drugs were far beyond his realm of understanding. One didn't need to be an expert, however, for the reek of heady ingredients to be detected. Whatever had been in this flask was powerful.

Drag marks...

Nathaniel crouched impulsively, and stuck his bare hand into the nearest puddle of cool blood. Then, he let the Grey tingle down his arm and pulse from his fingertips. When his senses registered not the slightest hint of recognition, he felt he could've wept with relief.

This wasn't the Commander's blood, and he was willing to wager that none of it was. Perhaps a little, just to show her they'd meant business. But for the most part, this blood would belong to her assailants. Those who were left, that was.

He got to his feet and crossed to the center of the clearing. There was no time to lose.

Sigrun looked up at him, tears streaming down her reddening face. The dwarf's frantic eyes seemed to punch Nathaniel in the gut, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. "Is he...?" he finally managed.

"He's alive, Andraste only know how," Anders answered curtly, hands surrounded in frail light still spread over the dog like he was administering a blessing. Nathaniel supposed he was, sort of.

"What did you find?" Sigrun asked tightly.

"She's been taken, I'm sure of it," he replied.

"Oh, sharp skills, that!" Oghren spat from across the clearing, where he was venting his anger on a hapless tree via his battle axe. "What a treasure ya are!"

"Shut it!" Sigrun snapped at him. "That's not how he means it!"

"Too right, my lovely lady of the stone," Anders said through gritted teeth as he focused on his work. "He means it with a capital 'T', don't you?"

Nathaniel nodded grimly. "They ambushed her, subdued her, then dragged her off. This wasn't random."

Sigrun bit her lip. "Are you sure?"

"Ah, we'd best leave our feet out of this arena, dear," Anders advised. "While the Circle Tower was...entertaining, I have no illusions that I have the political knowledge to understand why Nathaniel's 'noble' sense is tingling. I simply trust that it is."

Sigrun seemed to think it over, and Nathaniel found himself hanging on her answer. If Sigrun doubted him, if she did not see this as he saw it, then perhaps it wasn't there to be seen.

"What do we do?" she asked.

A breath he didn't know he was holding rushed out in a gust. "Sigrun, take Oghren to Denerim, as fast as you can. You have to tell the King. Be sure to tell him in private, or as privately as you can. We don't know who our friends are right now. Anders, take Jacob and go to Vigil's Keep. Tell Varel what's happened, but only Varel. No one else. Wait there to see what the King wants to do."

"Denerim?" Sigrun demanded, face growing stormy. "You're going to follow their trail, aren't you?" She didn't wait for his reply. "You're not going alone. I'm coming with you!"

"No, you're not." Nathaniel tried to be gentle and firm with his tone, but in his chest, his heart galloped roughly. He had no right to order any of them. Sigrun could challenge him as much as she wished. He couldn't afford anyone who would slow him down. "I'm the hunter, Sigrun. The tracker. I can follow them without being seen."

"And I'm the scout!" she shouted roughly. "In case you forgot, scouting ahead is pretty much my job."

"Scouting, but not tracking," Anders reminded her. "Leave be, Sigrun. Let him go. Besides, do you really want Oghren to be the one to tell the King about this?"

Her face paled considerably, and her hands clenched into fists. "No," she muttered.

Nathaniel relaxed and mentally thanked the mage. "I'll go after them, pick up the trail. I'll make sure my trail is clear behind me, though I'm sure the King will have no trouble finding a tracker more experienced than I to follow me."

Sigrun huffed loudly and crossed her arms with poor grace. "Fat chance. You're the best tracker this side of the Amaranthine Ocean, Nathaniel."

His stomach swirled with an odd rush of warmth at the compliment, and he gave the dwarf a half smile. "Then I'll be sure to make my trail very obvious."

Getting to her feet, the former legionnaire leveled her considerable stare at Nathaniel. "You listen to me, Howe. If the Commander couldn't handle them all, you can't handle them all. Don't try to take them on yourself." She took a deep breath, and if possible, her glare became sterner. "If I walk clear across Ferelden to find you half-dead in a ditch somewhere, by the stone, I'll-!"

Jacob lifted his head suddenly, and immediately started whimpering and trying to get up.

"Easy, boy. Easy!" Anders scolded, wrapping his arms around the mabari's neck in an attempt to keep him still. "You've had a pretty rough morning."

Looking at all of them in turn, Jacob then laid his ears against his skull and howled brokenly.

Sigrun clapped her hands over her ears. "Jacob, stop! Please!" she begged. "Nathaniel will find her. We're going to take you home!"

Nathaniel didn't know how much the mabari really understood, but Sigrun's words sent him into a panic. He began pushing to his feet, and Anders was no match for the dog's strength. Staggering weakly from his ordeal, Jacob managed to escape the mage and hide behind Nathaniel.

"Jacob, come on," Sigrun said soothingly. "You're hurt. We have to get you back to-"

He barked, interrupting her, and peeked around Nathaniel's hip reproachfully.

"Not a ranger, hmm?" Anders said, looking up at the archer.

"He's no ranger. The mutt says he's going with Nathaniel. Thought that'd be plain as the stone under your feet," snorted Oghren, finally joining their circle. The tree he'd vented his anger on looked near to toppling over, its trunk scarred and broken.

"He needs rest, not a trek through the woods," Anders argued.

"You tell him that, witch boy," the red-haired dwarf laughed. "I'll find me a good seat to watch."

Anders sighed helplessly, and turned to the Nathaniel. "Well, fearless leader, any bright ideas?"

Nathaniel felt his gorge rise up and hit the back of his throat. "Fearless leader" was not his name, it was the Commander's name. And he planned on giving it back to her as soon as humanly possible.

He craned his head around and looked down at the mabari. Never before had he seen such begging, such determination. In a flash of understanding, he knew how Jacob felt. Responsible. Guilty. It was how he felt. And who was he to deny the hound the chance to redeem himself, when he was taking the opportunity with both hands? "He can come with me," Nathaniel whispered.

"Well, then there's nothing left to discuss. The more we dally, the more ground they gain." Anders got to his feet and gestured to Sigrun. "Come on, my darling dwarf, it will be a while before we're forced to split up. I'll leave you alone with Oghren for as little time as possible."

"Hey, watch your tongue, ya maggoty, nug-humping, skirt-wearing-"

Sigrun, momentarily ignoring the mage, gave Nathaniel that look again.

"Now I have Jacob. No need to worry about me," Nathaniel assured her. "There won't be a scratch on me, promise."

"Nathaniel, I-" She broke off, clamping her mouth shut. Her fingers twisted themselves into knots, and she chewed her lower lip for a moment. "Just...just..."

"I will, Sigrun. Now, go." He pointed to Anders and Oghren, who were squabbling their way out of the clearing. "They won't even notice they've left you behind if you don't hurry."

Grinning fiercely, she winked. "Would that be so bad?"

Laughing, Nathaniel reached down, the sudden urge to sweep a lock of hair out of her eyes seizing him. What was he doing? He jerked his hand back, brought it down to his side. He was no wanton flirt like Anders. Where in the Maker's name had that come from? "Go," he said, smiling to make light of the strange thing he'd just almost done.

Her eyes narrowed at his aborted gesture, and he wondered if she knew what he wanted to do, and was displeased. "Fine, but we'll be back."

"I know."

She finally started walking away. Just before she left the clearing, she turned and gave him one last look. Her eyes were filled with worry...and something else that Nathaniel couldn't quite place.

"I'll find her, Sigrun," he said, answering the unasked question.

Nodding once, she pushed past the bushes and was gone from sight.

Nathaniel looked down at Jacob. "Ready, boy?" Giving as strong a woof as he could muster, the mabari wagged his stub of a tail. "Good." Letting his eyes drift, Nathaniel scanned the clearing until he found what he was looking for: a section of brush so trampled, so broken, it could only be the captors' exit. "That way."