"Listen to the warning
The seer he said
Beware the storm that gathers here"
9:28 Dragon
Thackery laid upon a large branch of an oak. He swung one of his long legs down, a dandelion sticking out from his lips. He looked up into the red and orange leaves.
It was Autumn in the Frostbacks, and he knew the winters to be harsh and cruel. The Keeper called for the clan to finally start packing for the journey south. Thackery was tired, having just taken down the large tent over Ashalle's aravel, and making sure it was ready for the journey.
He hated the mountains.
But Melia was always there to keep him distracted.
Thackery ran his slender hands through his wild raven hair, taking in the scents of the trees before he ultimately had to be on the road for Creators know how long. He brought up his knitting needles once more, working on a scarf for Fenarel. He was proud of his work, knowing Ashalle was absolute rubbish at the craft.
Thackery stopped suddenly; there was a strange scent to the air.
Quickly he clamored down the trunk of the tree. He raced through the woods, kicking up leaves and dirt. He stopped when he heard a commotion. His ears twitched.
"Don't touch me!"
Thackery ran in the direction of the screams. He came upon a small clearing where he saw Merrill backed up against a tree, three bandits standing in front of her.
Thackery picked up a flat stone. He hurled it at the helm of one of the cutpurses. The man stumbled, crying out as he did.
The other two turned around, their eyes flashing. Thackery paused.
"Oh shit." He said.
The bandits ran for him. The one he had hit tackled Merrill to the ground. Thackery snarled, running for the men, pouncing upon the closest one like a panther on prey. He bit into his neck, drawing blood. The man screamed, falling down and holding onto his wound.
"Fucking knife ear!" The last one called, swinging his sword at Thackery, who nearly dodged the blow. Thackery stabbed him in the side with one of his knitting needles.
There was a flash of light. The man who was about to swing again froze in place just before bursting into pieces. Thackery shielded himself, slowly rising to his full height. He looked around for Merrill. She was being held by a man wearing robes in the style of Orlais. Thackery had seen this attire once on an elf at the Gathering.
Thackery now took out his dagger.
"Leave her be, shem!" He held it up.
The man now held her bridal style, he looked to Thackery.
"She is wounded," He said, his accent deep and rich, "It would be best to bring her to your Keeper."
Thackery looked at Merrill, the blood coming from her mouth and the bruises on her face. He lowered his weapon only slightly.
"Fine."
Thackery walked in front of the man, watching his every move. Although he did nothing, Thackery still felt uneasy about him.
Near the borders of the Dalish camp, Thackery could see a flash of white hair burst from the trees.
Melia was in her Father's hunting armor, her daggers out. Tamlen was not far behind, his shield at the ready.
Melia spotted the human man and rounded on her cousin, "Thackery, Dirthara-ma. Garas…" She stopped when she saw Merrill.
"Melia'nain," Thackery started, "Ir abelas…"
Melia grabbed Merrill away. She did not meet the eyes of the man she had taken Merrill from, but she knew that he was staring at her.
She moved away and ran for the camp.
"And she's gone." Thackery said.
Tamlen scoffed, "She's very angry with you."
"She can deal with it."
Tamlen looked at the man, "You can leave now, shem...and be quick about it. I'll allow a head start before my sword meet your backside…"
"I do not wish any of you harm...I was simply travelling…" the man began.
"Enough," Thackery started, "We do not wish to hear your stories. Our debt to you is that we have no killed you. Leave this place."
"As you wish." The man took a bow and then turned away, disappearing into the trees.
"I don't like him." Tamlen said.
Thackery unclenched his fists, realizing he had broken the skin with his nails.
"Neither do I."
Thackery sat outside of the Keeper's aravel, Ashalle fussing over the cuts he didn't even know he had gotten.
Melia was pacing in front of him.
"Fenedhis, Melia, she'll be okay." Thackery said.
"What was she even doing out there?" Melia said, "She knows she should not wander far from any of the hunters…"
"You know Merrill. She likes to get out and wander. Just because you're a hunter doesn't mean you're the only one that gets the right to leave." Thackery scoffed.
"I have proven myself," Melia shot back, "Time and time again. It does no good for anyone to leave without alerting someone...and you!" She pointed, "Why were you gone? Where were you?"
"Da len, leave your cousin be." Ashalle stopped Melia, "Were it not for him Merrill might not be here…"
Melia held back her anger, but Thackery could see her ears turn red.
The Keeper came out of her aravel nearly hours later. Night had fallen, and Melia had put on her scarf and some semblance of boot to keep the frost out. Thackery had been working on his knitting, setting it aside to hear the Keeper.
"Merrill is fine." Marethari said bluntly, "I am thankful to the Creators that it was not worse than it already was." She looked to Thackery, "I understand a shem helped you two?"
Thackery pursed his lips, "I would have been fine...but yes. He did."
"I also understand you and Tamlen drove him away?" The keeper raised her brow.
"But…"
"Regardless of your feelings, this man save my Second." The Keeper said.
"...Ir abelas." Thackery sighed, he looked to Melia, "I'm going to the aravel." He walked away.
The Keeper looked at Melia.
"Melia'nain," I must ask you to keep a watchful eye for this human. You saw him yes?"
"Briefly, Keeper."
"Good. I do not trust Tamlen, he would easily kill the man. But I wish to at least thank him before we leave."
"Ma nuvenin, Keeper." Melia said, "I will take the first patrol tonight, perhaps he may still be in these woods."
The Keeper smiled, "Ma serannas, da len."
Melia stepped quietly through the trees, her footsteps falling lightly on the lush grass. Her bright green eyes illuminated in the quiet darkness of the forest.
Her fingers brushed over the leather hilt over her daggers. The tips of her ears twitched when she heard a twig snap.
In one fluid motion she threw her dagger towards the sound, nearly missing the man by a centimeter. He took one look at the dagger and a broad smile grew across his face.
Melia reached for her second blade, watching the man pull the dagger from the trunk of the tree and hold it gently in his hands.
Melia took a quick sidestep when the man came closer to her.
"Watch yourself, shem." She warned, now firmly gripping her remaining blade.
"I wish you no harm, my lady." The man said, his accent thickly Orlesian.
He extended the end of her dagger out.
Warily, Melia took the hilt, guiding it back into its sheath.
"You are the shem from earlier," She said, "You saved Merrill and my cousin from the bandits."
"I did." The man said, straightening himself out, "They are well?"
"Yes," Melia said quickly, "Bruised, but fine."
The man smiled, "Good, good…" He looked at Melia, studying her face, "I saw you the day I brought your Merrill to the camp. I should like your name."
"Not before I have yours."
"Very well," He bowed, "I am Jean-Yves Girard, former court mage of Orlais, and now a wandering artist."
"A Mage?"
"Ah, yes." Jean held out his hands, there was a bright purple light that formed between the two. He clapped them together, and when they came apart once more a glowing butterfly started to flap its wings.
The sparkling butterfly them turned into ten, fluttering playfully around Melia. With a snap of his fingers, Jean made them disappear, leaving only a floating mist of purple shimmering light.
"Now you know who I am. Might I now have the pleasure of your name?" Jean asked.
Melia took her hands away from her weapons, relaxing her stance, "I am Melia'nain Mahariel, of the Sabrae clan."
"As I suspected then." Jean began, "A name just as beautiful as the woman who bears it."
Caught off guard, Melia felt the color rise in her cheeks, "I must get back to my clan."
"As you wish then," Jean said, "But, Lady Mahariel, I would very much like to see you again."
"We shall see." Melia almost sneered, trying to avoid his steely blue gaze.
She backed away slowly, watching Jean quietly disappear into the trees.