Keeping up with the blonde young man was surprisingly difficult, though Cullen found that the boy hung back every so often, just enough to stay in sight. He'd followed the stranger into the woods without a thought. Now, the occasional regret that he hadn't taken the time to get Gunvor kept resurging in his head. It would have taken half this time if not less to get to wherever they were going if they'd been on horseback.

At this point, though, Cullen wasn't sure if it would be faster to backtrack and then head back out, so he kept silent and focused on keeping up. The woods were quiet, for the most part, but he didn't want to risk giving any remaining Orlesians a heads up that they were passing by—or draw the attention of a freshly woken bear or gurgut.

The boy seemed to know exactly where they were going, until they reached a small outcropping of rocks at the base of a short cliff-like protrusion on the mountain side—dozens of such pocked the forests, most no more than a dozen or so feet high.

There were signs that someone had been hiding there, deep marks in the mud where boots had sunk down and even a smaller sized handprint. The strange boy paced back and forth, fingers clutching his hair as he said, "No, no, no. Don't leave, don't leave, don't…" Then, rather abruptly, his expression blanked, and his voice took on a calm tone as he spoke, slowly speeding up his words as he went on, "Stay still, stay here. Help will come. No. Not help. Arrows loosed, angry eyes, can't wait. A corpse can't avenge a wrong. Run!"

He straightened up a little, turning slowly before starting off into the woods, glancing back at Cullen only once to add, "Hurry."

They picked up their speed until they were running, vaulting over shrubbery and sliding through frozen puddles, using trees to help them when they lost their footing. Cullen thought he saw a body lying lifeless as they practically flew through the forest, but he didn't dare stop to check. The boy knew where they were going.

He had to keep up.

Stopping rather abruptly, the boy didn't seem fazed when Cullen nearly ran headlong into him. It was as though some invisible force helped him stop just shy of the collision. Even as he wondered how that was possible, hints that a cliff was near—the way the wind blew stronger and the forest seemed to open up ahead—caught his attention.

Cullen cautiously stepped toward the ledge to look down, afraid of what he might see lying broken and twisted below. Even a short drop could cause a broken bone if someone wasn't careful. However, they'd reached one of the larger cliffs that occasionally rose up on the mountains, Korth having sheered away the earth for reasons only Gods could understand.

As he narrowed his eyes, trying to see in the darkness—to figure out why they had come this way—Cullen heard shouts, and his head snapped up.

The boy was gone.

Instead, he had a clear view as he watched figures moving through the woods, not far from where he was. As he caught a clear glimpse, he sucked in a sharp breath.

Katrina was at the head of the chase, running straight toward the cliff a few yards off to his right.

He tried to shout to her, to warn her. One of her pursuers noticed him, slowing her pace and redirecting her attention, drawn blade gleaming in the dim light.

If Katrina heard him, however, she made no indication of it. Instead, she kept her course. Cullen started toward them, horror curling in his gut as he ran parallel to the edge, far enough that he wouldn't slide off with a careless misstep. He prayed to whatever Gods might be listening or nearby that he'd reach her before her captors and before she reached the cliff.

It felt like the world was moving in slow motion. Katrina's focus was unwavering, her gaze straight ahead, like she knew exactly what was waiting for her. The soldiers were catching up. The last one was hanging back to see what Cullen would do.

He wasn't going to make it to her in time.

Just as he tried to force himself into a full sprint, Katrina broke even with the edge of the trees. In the last second, she grabbed ahold of a trunk and swung herself out of the way. Her closest pursuer tried to turn in time, but his boots skidded on the ice. Before he even knew the cliff was there, he was falling from it.

The second one realized what was happening, and tried to grip one of the nearest tree branches. It snapped off in his hand, however, and he went sliding over the edge with a panicked scream just as Cullen reached the area.

Katrina was a few feet away. When she'd grabbed the tree, one of her arms hadn't supported her weight, and she'd lost her grip, thudding into the frozen ground and sliding toward the ledge. She'd managed to cling to an exposed root, though half of her already dangled over the edge of the cliff.

As she tried to pull herself up, the root gave out on her, snapping and sending her body dropping. Cullen lunged forward and gripped her arm, tossing his weight back and bracing himself so that they didn't follow her pursuers over the ledge.

At first, Katrina let out a scream, twisting her arm around to grip Cullen's and then jerking as though to try to bring him down with her.

He managed to wedge one of his feet securely against a small protrusion jutting up from the top of the cliff-face and then cursed. "Katrina! Enough! It's me!"

Even as he spoke, she looked up at him, barely able to see through her hair which was once again a wild, tangled mess. She stopped struggling, eyes wide and mystified, as if she thought Cullen had simply materialized from nothing. Then, her brow pinched together, and he thought he could make out a glimmer of tears on her eyelashes. "Cullen…"

Hearing her say his name sent a chill down his spine. By the Mountain father, but she did have some type of spell on him, didn't she?

Now was hardly the time to be considering that, though. Instead, he tightened his grip on her arm as best he could. "I've got you…" As he reached out his other hand and took her other arm, she managed to get a footing on the edge of the cliff and push herself up a little.

He used her momentum to drag her to him without scraping her stomach across the ledge. When she was safely up, he stood, keeping a firm grip on her as he led her further into the woods. He thought to look for the last of her attackers briefly, finding a slumped figure a few yards away, unmoving.

Despite feeling that he should know what—or who—had dealt with that woman, he couldn't think of a name, nor could he find it in him to be bothered with why he was drawing a blank.

When they were a safe enough distance from the cliff, he eased his grip on Katrina's arm, pulling her in front of him so that he could face her fully. "What were you thinking?"

Katrina shivered as she stood in front of him, glaring toward the cliff. "I figured I'd take out as many of them as I could."

"By killing yourself?" He couldn't help but give her a slight shake.

Jerking free from his grip, she glared up at him, that fire he'd longed to see once again directed at him. Without thinking, he drew up straighter as she shoved him with her good hand. "You don't get to lecture me! This only happened because of you, anyway!"

Cullen stared down at her, indignation of his own welling up. Setting his jaw, he pointed at her, leaning forward slightly. "I just saved you."

At that, she started talking, and fast, using her good arm to made grandiose hand motions that were no doubt intended to help exaggerate her points. She was talking too fast for him to follow.

Cullen reached out and lightly pressed her jaw up, clicking her mouth shut. Even as she looked ready to take a swing at him, he gave her a tired frown. "If you're going to yell at me, do it slow enough that I can understand you."

She rolled her eyes, hand clasping his wrist and tugging his arm down. Fixing him with her gaze, that inner fire still simmering like embers in her eyes, she enunciated each word explicitly for his benefit. "If you had kept your word, this would not have happened."

"And just when did I break my word?" Cullen snapped back, a bit harsher than he'd meant. He pointed toward the cliff. "It wasn't when I kept you from falling to your death!"

"You left!"

A hiccupped cry followed the declaration, and Katrina snapped her mouth shut before she could say anything else, tears beading on her lashes.

Any fight that might have been ready to spark to life in Cullen died out instantly as Katrina turned her glare away, crossing her arms—though she did so gingerly, the injured arm clearly still a problem.

Cullen cursed himself as he realized that she was still bleeding, and he hadn't anything to bind it with. If he tore off one of her sleeves, she'd have to deal with the cold…

Gaze sweeping back toward the fallen Orlesian, Cullen darted over to the woman and relieved her of her cloak. Just before he turned back, Katrina called after him, destitute. She hadn't moved from where she was, but terror that she was once again being abandoned had left her rigid, immobile. Cullen returned to her quickly and draped the cloak around her before tearing off part of the bottom. When he'd torn a strip free that hadn't been sullied from the mud and snow, he lightly drew her arm to him and began to bandage it.

He was no healer, but it would serve well enough until they made it back to camp. All the while, Katrina didn't say a word.

"I was coming back for you, you know," he said quietly as he worked. "I just couldn't risk keeping my soldiers in the Wolves' hold any longer."

She watched him as his fingers brushed over the bandage, around and around her arm. "You could have said something."

"Like what?" He asked, peering up at her and then arching his brow when she finally met his gaze. She looked like she might cry. "If I'd come to see you before I left…well, Thane Blackwall might not have skewered me, but it wouldn't have been pretty." Finished wrapping her arm, he motioned with his head back the way he'd come. "Do you think you can walk? If not, I can carry you."

"I can walk," Katrina mumbled, abruptly finding great interest in the scraggly underbrush.

With a nod, Cullen began to lead her back toward the camp, keeping an arm out toward her until the first time she stumbled. At that point, he decided it better to walk on her other side, with the arm that he could grip to help without hurting her.

They'd gone a ways, with Cullen beginning to wonder how he knew the path back—it was like someone was leading him, though he couldn't say who—when Katrina finally began to talk.

"You know, it shouldn't even matter whether you were coming back or not."

Cullen frowned as he hopped down a small frozen incline and then reached back to take one of her hands in his and brace his other against the small of her back, helping her ease over the ice that seemed so foreign to her. She slid a little, leaning into him at the bottom before they began to walk again. He hesitated as he let go of her, watching her.

She'd attempted a few times to try to fix her hair—an endeavor that only left her more frustrated than before each time—but it was still a bit wild. Without thinking, he reached out to pat down a few stray locks, only to jerk his hand back when she winced.

That's right. Mia had mentioned she'd been hit in the back of the head.

Katrina started talking again before he could ask about it. "I mean, it's not like I even know you." Her brow pinched together as she glared at the frozen shrubs and underbrush that caught at her boots. "We've talked, what? Thrice? It shouldn't matter if you never came back."

The words stung. Cullen let his gaze drop from her to the ground as well as he kept an eye out for any freshly refrozen puddles that might catch or trip them.

What was that saying? Never let a Lowlander speak, for words were their greatest weapon?

"It shouldn't matter at all, but it did." Katrina muttered, pausing to curse profusely as the wind caught her cloak and tangled it in some brambles they were passing. Even as she got into a tug of war with the brittle branches, Cullen stepped around her and pulled it lose. She simply glared at the fabric as he let it go and it swished back around her. "I didn't want to never see you again."

To say Cullen was baffled would be an understatement. He resumed his pace beside her, watching her with a more critical eye. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was making a point to not look at him.

"Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I wasn't mad at you," Katrina scowled at his question. "I was mad at everything. I still am."

"Ah," Cullen replied, letting the silence fall over them again for a few steps. "Because back near the cliff, it sounded like you were mad at me."

"I'm about to be mad at you." Katrina reached out and shoved his arm lightly, her fingers lingering against him for just a second before she pulled her hand away. "You have to admit, though. If you hadn't abandoned me, I wouldn't have had to use a cliff to escape Orlesians."

"You realize an entire army came for you, yes?" Cullen asked, leaning forward a little as he peered down at her.

Rather than admit defeat or a flaw in her logic, Katrina frowned. "Do you know if Thane Blackwall and his lady are alright? They tried to protect me, but…" She reached up, gingerly feeling her head. "I can't remember what happened."

"Mia and her husband are fine," Cullen replied gently, pausing briefly to consider that no one had actually told him that Thane Blackwall was alright. He dismissed the notion, figuring that Mia or someone else would have mentioned it. Likely, he was still at his hold, overseeing its security while they prepared to leave.

"When I was little, the royal family in Starkhaven was overthrown," Katrina said softly. "My family was exiled to Ostwick for a while because we were loyal to the crown, but then Prince Vael reclaimed the throne and my family helped. I don't remember much of it, but I remember hearing that the fighting had been brutal." She stared blankly ahead, feet plodding along softly. "Still, I'd never really thought people could do this much damage to one another." She shook her head. "With the matters in Starkhaven, it was all about power. There was a reason—sick and twisted as it was—for all the damage done. But here… They were burning the hold just to burn it."

"I've never heard of Lowlanders simply razing a hold for no reason before, either," Cullen offered. He'd heard of some bad fighting where nobles sent warriors and soldiers into the mountains because the Avvar came too far down the slope or because the nobles decided to claim more than they deserved, but direct attacks on holds were...

How had they even known where to march to?

"I don't care much for that bristly old bastard, but I'm glad he's alright."

It took Cullen a second—abruptly drawn from his thoughts as he was—to realize she was talking about his fellow thane. With a half grin, he couldn't squelch the small laugh that escaped his throat. "He'll be thrilled to hear, I'm sure."

Katrina made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat that reminded him of Cassandra, and he couldn't hide his smile as she glared up at him. "Don't you dare tell him that." He held up a few branches for her to pass under, and she glanced up at him, a light in her eyes that he couldn't quite place. Hope? "So then. You said you were coming back for me."

"I said I'd protect you, and I can't do that if I'm miles away," he said, shrugging a little before he added. "I have to say, if I'd known you would make it so hard, I might not have been so quick to promise that."

For an instant, he thought Katrina might not catch that he'd meant it as a joke, but she smirked as they kept trudging along. "I'm good at making simple things complicated."

"It must be a Lowlander gift."

"I'll have you know that my life was never this complicated before I got caught up with Orlesians."

The way she said that last word was as though it was the filthiest thing she could say.

Lightly catching her hand as he helped her over another long patch of ice, he nodded toward her. "I don't know. The way some of the Orlesians have been cursing you, I don't think their lives were as complicated before they met you."

"Just what are you accusing me of, messere?" Katrina gave him a pointed look, though there was a twist of a smile on her lips.

"Just an…what's the word, observation?" Cullen said, letting go of her hand and holding his up in surrender when she took a light, wide swing at him. He reached out and caught her hand as she lowered it, his fingers easily encircling her wrist. "You're going to come back with me to my hold. Hopefully it will be far enough south that you won't have to worry about more Lowlanders coming for you."

Katrina fell silent at that. When he loosened his grip on her, though, she let it slide just far enough that she could catch his hand with hers. "That won't put your people in danger?"

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, lightly bumping his arm against hers. "We'll be fine."

…-…

Katrina woke up to a chill in the air, though it didn't bother her quite as much as she was used to. Her clothes were warm—leathers, lined with fur, unlike her clothes or the ones she'd been gifted by the Avvar—and, despite being a bit loose on her, they kept the cold at bay better than any of her 'Lowlander' gear ever could.

Maybe that was the secret to the Avvar's ability to live in these Maker-forsaken mountains.

Though, that didn't explain how they could walk around shirtless as they did.

Her head didn't hurt anymore—nothing did.

As she glanced around, she tried to remember what had happened. Cullen had saved her from impending doom—he really did seem to be somewhat of a woodland hero—and then… The walk back had been long, and after walking what could have been an eternity, Cullen had insisted on carrying her. She remembered protesting that she was fine to walk on her own before finally sighing when he knelt down in front of her and told her to climb onto his back. She could barely remember looping her arms around his neck and his arms catching her legs before...

She must have passed out almost instantly.

Cullen was something else. It was like the Maker himself had sent him… or perhaps someone else.

More and more, Katrina felt like the Maker really wasn't out there. If he was, he was too engrossed with whatever he'd decided to do since his abandonment of Thedas to help a lonely, little, lost, disowned noble.

That meant she wasn't noble anymore, didn't it?

Katrina sat up, tugging one of the furs around her to keep the cold at bay and looked around the tent. She'd fallen asleep knowing that she was safe with Cullen.

So why was she waking up in an Orlesian tent?

Even as she cautiously glanced around, half expecting some guard to be there ready to bash her face in with a gauntlet, a young man patted her shoulder, and she jumped. As she let out a surprised curse, he slouched his shoulders slightly, his blue eyes looking most guilty.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"You…" Katrina paused, vague memories bubbling up slowly. "You've been helping me."

He perked up a little, a smile daring to twitch across his lips at her words. "You remember."

"Not well," she admitted, reaching up and scratching her head. "It's…fuzzy."

"I'm working on it, and people can remember me for longer," the boy offered, before shaking his head. "That's not important though. You'll forget me after a little while, but don't worry. I'm going to keep helping you. Just like Justice. He can't do much outside of your dreams, though. You're not a mage, after all."

Katrina tilted her head a little in response to the young man's sage nod. "Yeah, I suppose I'm not."

"Here, I think you'll need these," he said, pressing two daggers into her hands. She paused, recognizing one as the one he'd given her before. The other was identical, save that it had a few less scuffs on it. "They want to make you go away, but they can't let you disappear. More will come to find you."

She blinked, looking back up at him. Her fingers curled around the hilts. "What do you mean?"

"One needs another to fall, but can't be the one to push. They need them to fall by themselves. Or to make it look like they do. An act of aggression. A people framed for a murder they didn't commit. People will point fingers at the one she wants, and he won't be a problem anymore."

Katrina stared at the boy as he spoke, suddenly feeling like she was half-awake or drunk or…something. She certainly wasn't following what he'd said. "Come again?"

The boy seemed frustrated. "Broken words, meaningless things. Never listening when I should, miss too much. Wouldn't be so lost now if I'd just pay attention—no! No, no!" He held his hands out, almost frantic like. "It's not you, it's me. I…don't talk to a lot of people. And they forget me anyway, so it's okay when I don't make sense." He paused, drawing his hands back to himself and wringing them slowly. "But you'll remember this. Justice will help it stay fresh."

"Remember what?"

The young man's lips moved silently, his eyes rolled up as though he were looking to the sky for guidance. Finally, he looked back at her, a smile in place. "It's a Game. A noble is trying to frame another by making it look like they're framing the Avvar. For your death."

Katrina stared at him for a long, long moment before finally pointing at him. "So you're saying two nobles want to ruin each other, and one's trying to frame the other by hurting me and the Avvar?"

"Yes." He sounded most relieved that she'd followed him.

"The Comte de Forseau?"

"I…don't…know," he replied, fidgeting a little, frown sweeping his lips down. "Twisted thoughts contorted in twisting minds, always seeking an advantage. Eyes sharp, tongues sharper. Never a kind word without motive, never a smile without a guard. Nothing is right, nothing is good. Twisted, tainted, wrong…" he trailed off again, looking back up at her, mournful. "Too many have different thoughts. I can't tell who's right and who just wants to be right."

"Why help me?" Katrina asked, leaning toward him, searching his expression. A part of her whispered to be scared, but she couldn't be. He was too…kind. "What do you get out of keeping me alive?"

"I like to help," he offered with a simple shrug. "And Justice can't keep an eye on you when you're not dreaming. Can't keep you safe from blades and burning, arrows and falling. We want thing set right. That means we need someone who can unravel this. Someone with a fire in them that never goes out."

Katrina blinked. Slowly, she could remember talking to a knight in—literally—shining armor. She remembered her vow to save her sister, her comment on being able to change things, magic or no.

Her shoulders slumped a little. "You must be disappointed. I said I could change things, and I haven't done much of anything yet, other than bitch about having to do anything."

"You've done more than you know," the boy gave her a simple smile. "We haven't been disappointed."

Katrina felt a little embarrassed as she reached up to scratch her eyebrow. "If you say so, I guess…" She perked up a little, "Oh, what do I call you—"

The tent flap drew back, and Cullen smiled as he dipped down to enter. "You're awake, good. I thought you might sleep longer. Augur Corpseflame healed you. He wanted to say goodbye, but he was needed elsewhere. He wanted me to tell you something about sleeping too much, but I, uh, I don't know all the words in common."

Katrina nodded to him, an odd fluttering feeling in her chest as she saw the way his lips curved into a smile, the way the light shimmered against his golden hair and accented his shoulders. As she tried to shake it off, she glanced back to her side to see an empty tent. Even as she wondered why she'd thought someone would be there, Cullen's hand lightly rested on one of hers. "Katrina?" When she looked back at him, he'd settled down just at the edge of the furs they'd given her to keep warm. "If you're feeling well enough, we need to head out. It's a long way to my hold."