It didn't matter that she was only a child. If they caught her, they would kill her. Or worse. She walked through the Orlesian soldiers as if she hadn't a care in the world.

The baker smiled at her as she haggled for the bread. Three loaves. Next she bought cheese, then apples, counting out the coins carefully and giggling at a joke the merchant told. A chevalier patted her head as she passed, called her something in his tongue. Terror seized her heart. She made herself smile as she curtsied, and offered him a flower out of her basket. He took it, and gave her a copper.

She spent the copper on more bread, and added it to her burden. Slowly, she meandered the market a few minutes more before heading into an alley. A heartbeat later, she slipped through a window, and into a dark basement. Two taps, silence, then three taps more. The wall slid open.

Rebel soldiers took the food from her gratefully, praising her bravery. Thanks to the chevalier, there was enough for everyone. Alfred, the young man who led the rebels, called her a patriot.

#

She woke just before sunrise. After a moment, she rose, and stretched, working out the kinks in her shoulders. She drew a robe around her, and opened the window. Outside, the air was crisp. Spring had not wholly taken hold yet, though the forest was greening. In the distance, she could see the sanctuary. This year, perhaps, the trees would bear fruit.

When she'd been a girl, the Wardens had been exiled from Ferelden. Now Wardens sat on the throne, and she was a member of the order. She smiled. Odd where fate could take one.

"You're beautiful when you smile," a voice said, the accent lilting.

Odd indeed. Once the sight of a chevalier was cause for fear. Now, she shared a bed with one. She came over, sat down next to her mate, and kissed him.

#

In his dreams, he had both legs. He ran through the gauntlet at the academy, swift and nimble with youth. His elder brother tried to follow, and ended up knocked to the ground. Voices laughed, and he went to help the other man up. Thibault had shoved him away, and then stalked off.

His brother had left the academy four days later. It had not been entirely by his choice. Keenan had gone on to graduate, and earn his yellow feather. His brother had never forgiven him for it.

Thibault had actually paid him a visit just before the Wardens had sent him to Ferelden. "Off to be a dog-lord in turnip keep." He'd received a letter from Thibault shortly after Nida had returned to Orlais, with still more gloating about his disgrace.

And yet, sitting there, watching her breathe in the spring air, he knew this was where he belonged. His wolf-woman came to him, greeting him with a kiss. A moment later, both mabari hounds leaped onto the bed, wanting some attention for themselves. He laughed as he disentangled himself.

Skyhunter handed him the metal leg, and he secured it.

#

Warden-Commander Jerath greeted them as they came downstairs. The Orlesian Wardens that had arrived with him had cited the fact the man was an elf as the reason the Vigil needed them to provide a strong hand. Thibault had his fair share of taunts about serving a rabbit.

They'd never met the man.

"Change of plans. You two are riding out with Ser Alec and his men."

Skyhunter blinked. "What's going on?"

"We've conflicting reports from the Hinterlands, south of Redcliffe. Most claim that the trouble is bandits, but there are several reports indicating scattered darkspawn activity. We've had a request to send some of our knights and Wardens." Jerath glanced at Keenan. "And Ser Alec wants to talk to you about the training methods of the chevaliers."

"When do we leave?"

"As soon as your horses are saddled."

#

Most horses were frightened of her. Even the trained warhorses of the Order shifted nervously at her approach. Bronto, however, was used to her. She saddled him quickly, and then glanced over to see if Keenan needed help. After two years, he moved around easily on the metal leg, but mounting a horse did provide him with some difficulty. He accepted her hand.

Bronto was eager to be on the move. She stayed near Keenan, listening to him and Ser Alec talk about calvary tactics. Her mate could no longer fight from horseback as effectively as he had before losing the leg, but he still remembered all his training.

Their mabari, Lighteye and Gwendoline, moved easily among the horses, as did the four mabari belonging to knights. She'd trained both hounds and masters fighting as a pack.

She let Keenan do the talking. He was better at it.

#

They moved well enough that many would mistake them for chevaliers, at least from a distance. Up close, most betrayed their common blood easily. That nearly a third of them were elves also distinguished them.

Most of the elves rode lighter horse, and carried shortbows. Skirmishers, fast and mobile. The majority of the humans wore lighter armor, and rode the Anderfels horses. Five, however, rode the massive beasts like Skyhunter's Bronto, and were dressed in plate. With their armored mounts, they were almost mobile siege engines.

"So what trouble are we on our way to find?" Keenan asked.

"Until the last missive, we thought we were after common bandits, possibly some darkspawn."

"What changed?"

"A group of a twenty templars vanished without a trace." Ser Alec shook his head. "Veteran men, most of them. Knight-Commander Greagoir made the request personally."

He'd heard stories of the Witch of the Wilds. Yet given what else he'd heard, he was confident that if there was any chance she was responsible, the Commander would be leading this force personally. "Were they hunting an apostate?"

"According to the report, they'd sent a raven saying they'd found and dispatched an abomination, and were on their way back. Except they never made it out of the Wild."

#

She dismounted, and moved forward, Lighteye at her heels. The tracks showed it plainly, and it took her less than a minute to locate the bodies of the merchants. "Bandits," she called over her shoulder. "Not spawn." After turning a critical eye to the tracks, she continued. "Band of ten, maybe twelve. Went south."

Ser Alec nodded. "Let's take care of that problem, then see if we can find those missing templars."

#

The bandit saw the false leg, and his eyes lit up as he charged, sword above his head. Keenan shifted his weight to his good leg, spun, and cut the man down. The second bandit moved in more cautiously, and managed to last nearly five seconds. He may not have been what he was three years ago, but he was still a trained chevalier and Warden.

On the other side of the camp, he noted that some of the bandits had decided that the lone woman was an easier target than the knights. Skyhunter picked one up by the throat and smashed him against his compatriot before drawing her massive greatsword. At the academy, his instructors had disparaged such weapons as ungainly and awkward. But then, they'd never seen her.

A few of the smarter bandits attempted to simply make a run for it, aiming for the rough terrain where the horses could not follow easily. Ser Alec sent the elves after them. Some of the bandits had surrendered. Arl Teagan had a reputation as a good and fair man, and perhaps they thought he'd show them mercy.

"Sers?"

"Yes, Zeph?"

"Might want to come take a look at this."

That Zeph had once been a bandit didn't slow him down at all on these runs. If anything, he seemed to enjoy them. But then, Zeph had been thief, not killer. The chevaliers would have turned up their noses at the man, if not slain him outright for having the nerve to ask to join their ranks. He led them to a makeshift prison in the bandit camp.

"Maker's breath, those are templars," Ser Alec said.

#

The two men were in rough shape. Their wounds had been left all but untreated. Both were shaking, delirious with lyrium withdrawal. The first gave his name as Emory. The second could not manage even that much coherence.

Ser Alec leveled his blade at the throat of one of the surrendered bandits. "Explain yourselves."

"We found them, my lord," the man said, swallowing nervously. "At the edge of the swamp."

"Ah, so locking them up to rot was an act of mercy, was it?" Ser Alec narrowed his eyes.

The bandit gave him a pleading look. "We weren't the ones what hurt them, my lord. We was going to sell them back."

Keenan shook his head at the man. Ransoming templars. Surely the man had to know how badly that would have ended for him. He saw Skyhunter rummaging around in her pack, and raised an eyebrow at her. After a moment, she joined them, carrying a couple restorative draughts and two small vials. He blinked. "You have lyrium?"

"Velanna," Skyhunter said, and then shrugged.

Ser Alec followed them back to where the templars were lying. Skyhunter gave Emory one of the restorative draughts. She had to pour it down the throat of the second man. Then she handed over the lyrium vial.

Emory all but snatched it from her and drank it eagerly. He even ran his tongue along the inside of the vial, trying to get every last drop. Keenan almost felt some pity for the man.

"What happened?" Ser Alec asked, after Emory had stopped shaking.

"We were captured by these bandits as we were leaving the wild," Emory said.

Keenan nodded. "They said they found just the two of you. What about the others?"

"It is a chantry matter," Emory replied.

"Greagoir himself requested our help in finding you," Keenan said. "I'm Warden Keenan, this is Warden Skyhunter. What happened?"

Emory shook his head. "It is a chantry matter."

The other man stirred, and with Skyhunter's help, managed to sit up. "They should know," he said, his voice weak.

"Shut up, Graham."

The other man shook his head. "No. Someone has to know." He coughed. "I'll not go to the Maker with this on my conscience. We left him, Emory."

"He made his choice," Emory spat.

"He was trying to..." Graham coughed again, and Skyhunter offered him another of the elfroot draughts. He took it. After finishing it, he began to tell them what happened.