The group split up into two groups, one with Varric, Solas and Cassandra, the other with Fenris and Evans. The groups went in opposite directions after agreeing to meet back in the small clearing in fifteen minutes if they didn't find anything.
After a few minutes of silence on Fenris's part, Evans finally spoke up.
"He blames himself too, you know."
Fenris grunted, unwilling to be drawn out of his admittedly broody attitude.
"Varric told me more about you and Hawke," she continued. "I know you must be angry with him-"
"You don't know anything about it," Fenris hissed. "He should've protected her."
Evans sighed. "If you know Hawke at all, you know the only person capable of protecting her, is herself."
Fenris staggered in surprise but steadied himself quickly. He hated to admit it, but the Inquisitor was right. Hawke was always bigger than life, and attracted enemies proportionate to that. And no matter how much he may have wished it, he would never be enough to keep her safe. And if he couldn't do it, how could he expect Varric to?
"You didn't ask if I blamed you, too," he said finally.
Evans shrugged. "I asked your lover to sacrifice herself so the rest of us could escape," she said lightly. "I assume your anger with me came part of the deal."
"It does."
The mage laughed. "I have an ancient darkspawn Tevinter magister who wants to be a god wanting me dead. I think I can handle one angry elf."
Fenris glared at her. After a moment, he changed the subject.
"So, if you're a mage, how can you wield a sword as big as the one you had back in your room?" he asked.
Evans laughed a little. "Anybody can learn to properly wield a sword, a dagger, a shield, or a bow with enough training. The only difference is what skill level you'll achieve. Warriors tend to focus on swords and shields. Mages almost always focus on their magic, but might spare time to learn a bow. They can have some talent at it, but won't be as skilled as the average rogue."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Well, I'm not the average mage. I'm a Knight Enchanter. An Arcane Warrior, if you want to be technical about it." She pulled the sword hilt from her belt, and with a flick of her wrist, the massive glowing blade blazed to life once more. "I can create a blade out of my own mana, weightless apart from the hilt, capable of bypassing any armor." The blade flickered out of existence, and she tucked the hilt back into her belt. "It's a skill that's actually a remnant of your own culture, Fenris."
"My own culture?" he said suspiciously.
"The elves were the first ones to marry together skills both arcane and mundane. Dirth'ena Enasalin, if I remember right. It's probably about as close as I'll ever get to being a warrior. I've read most of the material available about it, I could tell you all about it when we return to Skyhold, if you like," Evans offered.
Fenris grunted. "I'll pass. As I'm not a mage, I'll not be able to make use of it."
"Alright, suit yourself."
"Inquisitor!"
The shout came from behind them. Fenris whipped around, hand gripping the hilt of his sword again. Evans held her staff in front of her warily. "Yes?" she shouted back.
"We found something!"
Fenris's heart began pounding, and in a flash he was running in the direction of the voice, leaving Evans protesting behind him. In a minute, he came up upon Cassandra, Solas, and Varric, standing around a burnt corpse curled up on the ground.
"Could it be a sign of Hawke?" Cassandra asked. Evans approached the body and prodded it with the blade of her staff.
"Could be," she mused. "'Course, it could've been any other monster or demon who lives in the fade. But I do sense some residual mana in the air."
Fenris couldn't help but agree. The air felt charged with static.
"Lightning," he murmured. Evans nodded.
"Looks like we're on the right track," Varric said.
"Yes, Hawke has definitely been here," Solas agreed.
"Come on then," Evans said. "I see another body that way."
The group set off, every now and then coming across a burnt monster corpse. The frequency of the bodies increased until they were surrounded by them. Suddenly, Evans held up a hand, stopping them in place behind a walled corner in the path. She suddenly looked rather pale.
"I recognize this part," she whispered. "If this is where I think it is, we need to be very careful."
"Is this where you think it is? Because I think I know where you think it is, and if it is, then it's bad," Varric whispered. Cassandra shushed him.
Evans peeked slowly around the corner. Whatever she saw caused her knuckles to whiten over their grip on her staff. Fenris tensed, ready for whatever monster loomed in their path. Hawke was so close, he could almost taste her.
"Holy shit," the Inquisitor breathed. "I don't believe it."
"What is it?" Fenris asked.
Instead of replying, the Inquisitor stood, walking out from behind the rock. The rest of the group followed warily.
"She actually did it!" Evans said, awestruck.
Laying in the middle of the path, curled up in an impossible tangle of its own legs, was a spider bigger than Fenris had ever imagined spiders could ever grow. It had to be bigger than his Hightown mansion, and certainly bigger than the high dragon that he and Hawke had faced down in the Bone Pit years ago.
And it was dead.
It lay unmoving in a pool of its own blue blood, covered in multiple slashes and wounds from varying kinds of magic. The air still crackled with energy, making the fine hairs all over Fenris' body stand on end. This had been a ferocious battle, that's for sure.
"Incredible!" Solas exclaimed.
Fenris' eyes fell to the ground next to the monster, drawn by a spot of red among all the green background; a blood spatter. Red blood. Hawke's blood.
"Come on," he growled. He drew his sword and stalked off, in the direction of the now distinct blood trail. As he passed the monstrous spider, he spied a few tufts of fur caught in the claws of the creature. The fur was the same color as the fur that lined Hawke's champion armor, and it made his stomach sink like a stone.
The blood by the spider had been dark and dried, but as they went along the blood looked fresher and redder. Fenris' steps quickened, till he was nearly running full-out. He ignored the Inquisitor's call behind him to slow down. He was almost there, he almost had Hawke in his arms again-
He turned a corner and skidded to a halt. The path ran up to a cliff face and stopped, as did the blood trail. The rest of the group caught up to him as he looked back and forth in confusion. The trail simply ended, as if Hawke had walked through the wall and vanished.
Maybe, Fenris thought, that's closer to what happened than we think?
He stepped closer to the cliff, and his eyes spotted an indent he'd previously missed. As he approached, the indent revealed itself to be a tiny cave, more of a protected insert into the rock than anything. And slumped against the wall of it, ghostly pale beneath a shock of black hair and covered in her own blood but undeniably there, was Hawke.
Fenris' heart leapt into his throat and he fell to his knees beside her. He cradled her head with shaking hands. "Hawke, I'm here," he murmured. Oh Maker, she felt so cold. Her head lolled limply in his hands, and her eyes didn't as much as flicker. Fenris looked over her whole body, stopping with horror upon the ghastly wound on her leg. The muscle was torn open, shattered bone laid bare, blood still weeping from the whole thing. In that moment, he was sure he looked nearly as pale as she did, even with his dark skin.
"Oh Maker," he heard Cassandra whisper behind him.
"Solas, get over here!" Evans snapped. "Stop the bleeding, quickly!"
A hand fell upon his shoulder, pulling him away from her, away from his Hawke. He shrugged the hand off, but it grabbed his upper arm more forcefully and yanked him back.
Fenris whipped around, a snarl upon his lips, to find himself face to face with the Inquisitor. She gave him a steely stare. Behind her, he could see Varric looking even paler than when he'd first seen Fenris at Skyhold, all traces of his normal humor gone.
"What!?" the elf spat. Evans didn't flinch.
"You have to let Solas heal her," she said firmly. "You'll just get in the way right now."
Fenris took a deep, shuddering breath, not wanting to admit she was right. He turned back to look at Hawke, but the elven mage blocked his view of her. A soft blue light spilled forth, and Fenris could taste the ozone of magic in the air.
The seconds seemed to take eternities to pass. Fenris pacing back and forth like a caged wolf the whole time. Varric sat on a rock, examining his own trembling fingers. Evans stared straight ahead, deep in thought. Finally, after several minutes, Solas stood, lines of exhaustion etched into his face.
"I did what I could," he sighed. Fenris brushed past him, kneeling at Hawke's side again. She still looked extremely pale but the bleeding had stopped. Her wound, though still clearly in desperate need of medical care, had been hastily sealed by a layer of new skin. It fitted the concave shape of it, thinly covering even the shards of bone poking out.
He reached out to her once more with still-trembling hands and lifted her unconscious body into his arms. Fenris cradled her to his chest, her head against his shoulder, and he planted a soft kiss to her hair.
"Let's get back to Skyhold," he said hoarsely. After a heartbeat, the group turned around and began walking back towards the rift.