Katrina was beginning to wonder about whether or not she should have just let the Orlesians kill her, though that was likely just because of how much her thighs hurt. Well, everything was sore, really. Avvar rode long and hard.

And for someone used to casual canters for maybe an hour or two at most—even when she'd been fleeing from Orlais, she'd still taken frequent breaks, ducking off roads and the like to rest, or simply moving at a slower pace so as to blend in with other travelers—she had not been prepared for that. She'd nearly fallen off her horse after about three hours.

Cullen had kept her on his after her near reunion with the ground, making a playful tease about how she always seemed to fall off things. Katrina had not been particularly amused, even if it was true enough.

When they'd stopped for the night, her thighs had been blistered and chaffed, and she was pretty certain that this was some sort of torture or punishment for all the poor choices she'd made in her life. While she couldn't argue that she didn't deserve some retribution for previous actions, it didn't mean she had to take it without a few quiet curses to the Maker.

Their party was not particularly glad to have her around, either.

Truly, the whole escapade did have a homey fill to it. Everywhere she looked there was rampant disappointment and the type of bitter resentment she'd always figured was reserved for siblings.

"Could you help make the fire?" Could the Divine hear her scream from this far away?

"Do you know how to skin an animal?" Did these fingers look like she skinned anything other than knuckles?

"Will you help with the tents?" Oh, look. It's falling over again.

"Can you tend the fire?" Look at those embers dance in the wind. Right toward the tent that's falling over. Again.

"Can you stand here and not move?" If her mother could get her to do simple tricks like that, she wouldn't be in the woods now, would she?

She'd managed to keep most of her quips to herself, mostly because she had a feeling that it was hard enough for Cullen to validate why she was even with them as it was. Cullen had made promises, but his people were divided when it came to hauling Katrina back with them—and the divide was becoming more a him versus them matter with each of Katrina's shortcomings. Even his second in command, Cassandra, who had seemed to be on their side in the beginning seemed more and more disenfranchised with Katrina the longer they were in close proximity.

She had, eventually, slipped over to the horses and helped to brush and feed them. While walking to them had been painful, once she was there, set in the rhythm of tending to the sturdy beasts, she'd been able to forget how much she ached, at least for short bursts. Then she'd have to move a little and would be back to silently cursing the Maker and her existence and, well, everything.

As was usual of late.

Aside from Cassandra and Cullen, the only other Avvar who seemed to really pay her any attention—being blatantly ignored was another warm reminder of home—was the Wolf who was accompanying them back to the Red Lion Hold. She was a mage, Morrigan. Apparently she was talented enough that she could have been Augur, but the Gods had chosen Dorian over her. At least, Katrina thought that was what Morrigan had meant when she'd explained things. The woman had been a bit glib, and had switched to the Avvar tongue to speak with Cullen and his people, leaving Katrina as the odd ball out.

It would be fun if she managed to learn their language faster than they anticipated and then spy on them. After all, it did appear she would be there for a while.

First, however, she'd have to find someone to actually teach her. If anyone, it would probably be Cullen. The rest of the Avvar seemed content to stumble through their conversations with Katrina using the common tongue—or what little they knew of it.

In an attempt to talk with Cassandra, Katrina had asked what the Avvar words for good morning were, and Cassandra had given her the strangest look before finding a reason to be elsewhere. One she chose not to share with Katrina. That was when she'd decided that, despite Cullen's earlier comment that Cassandra would be a friend, she must have done something—likely existing—to displease the Avvar woman.

Maybe the Avvar held their language sacred or…some such nonsense. Maybe she'd asked about it wrong? Was there a proper way to ask about another's culture and language? She'd never had this problem before. Wasn't showing a general interest in another's beliefs and ways considered a good thing?

When she'd ended up on Cullen's horse, she'd thought she might have more time to talk about such things. Alas, they'd ridden too hard to really allow for conversation. At the end of the day, Katrina had passed out pretty much as soon as she was done tending to the horses—she'd been too overcome with fatigue to even read any, instead falling asleep with a book resting across her chest. It was a good thing Dorian hadn't come with them, or he'd likely have thwacked her on the head—or with another book—for bending the pages so.

That had been her life for the last three days—tending horses, riding hard, and dreaming of murder, mayhem, and a shining knight who tried to keep the worst of it at bay.

Katrina had quietly asked Morrigan if she knew any healing spells after the second day when the pain in her legs had gotten even worse, and she'd been so thrilled to learn that Morrigan was not a healer of any kind. She had supplied Katrina with a salve to put on her blisters, though.

The night before, right after they'd stopped, she'd asked Cullen just how far away his hold was. He must have seen the internal screaming reflected in her eyes when he'd said they had over a week to go if they kept up their current pace, because she caught him watching her a few times that night as they set up camp.

Each time he noticed she'd caught him, he'd look away quickly, finding something to do or someone to talk to.

It had to be that he'd figured out she was in pain, hadn't it? It wasn't like she could pretend she wasn't stiff and sore and achy for long periods of time. Really, she was quite the weakling. A stellar example of the people of the Lowlands.

Maybe that was why the Avvar didn't want to talk to her…

However… there was something reassuring about the thought that perhaps Cullen was watching her for other reasons. She'd been told before that she wasn't the worst thing to look at, though… Avvar might have different beauty standards.

And he hadn't really made any move or indication that he was interested… had he?

After all, he had said that he'd been coming back for her, but that could have just been because he'd given her his word.

And she had yelled at him.

And as nice as he was, it wasn't like he was stealing her away to whisper sweet nothings into her ears as the fires burned low—not that she would have been able to stay awake long enough to hear them, anyway.

And they'd only known each other for…well, technically weeks, but she'd been unconscious for most of that. Perhaps he was just following some code of honor, looking after her as he was.

Why did it even matter?

She had to admit, he was rather easy on the eyes himself. Perhaps that was part of it. His leathers were tight enough that she could see vague outlines of his muscles beneath them, and as they'd ridden, it had been hard not to think about the way she'd had to hug herself to his firm body, her cheek pressing against his warm skin—especially considering it was so many hours with nothing else to do other than think.

The slight circles under his eyes and that scar just added to his aura of…she wasn't sure what it was. Strength, protection, primal force?

She'd die before she'd tell him that, though.

With a sigh, Katrina opened her eyes, staring blankly at the ceiling of the tent. Her dreams the night before had not been pleasant ones. They'd revolved around murder and her world falling apart, mostly, and she wished dearly to get them out of her head.

Wishing for something to occupy her time with—aside from thoughts of the handsome thane who had taken her under his wing for whatever reason—she listened for the sounds of the Avvar waking up or moving around. No doubt someone would be in soon to make sure she was awake and ready to go.

Ready and back on a Maker-forsaken horse.

She'd have to apply some more of that salve before she left her tent.

Quite abruptly, she realized that something was off.

Why hadn't anyone woken her up yet? She could hear birds chirping. Their party was generally up before those little screechers.

Aside from the wildlife, though, it was quiet. A bit too much so.

She could hear a faint crackle of a campfire, and that was it.

Sitting up, she glanced around, hugging her fur blankets to her. She was alone.

Morrigan had been sharing a tent with her, not that they'd said much to one another yet, what with Katrina passing out so quickly and not being much of a morning person. Morrigan also seemed like more of a loner type, and Katrina didn't know what to say. Should she offer sympathies for what had happened to the Shadow Wolves' hold? Should she not mention it?

Cautiously, she untangled herself from the furs, pulling on the outer layers of clothing that she'd shirked so that she'd be able to sleep decently, and slipped outside. The air still had a chill to it, though snow and ice were slowly sloshing off the tree branches around them.

Cullen sat beside the fire in silence with Morrigan, cooking what looked like it had been a rabbit once upon a time. When he saw Katrina, he motioned for her to come over and sit beside him. Even as she headed to him, she realized why it was so quiet.

All the others were gone.

Aside from the three of them, there was his chestnut stallion and another steed, mulling about a little ways from the tent, their reins not even tied to a tree. Most of the supplies were gone, too, though she supposed there was enough for them. She assumed, anyway.

As she sat down beside them, curling her legs under her and hugging herself a little to keep warm, Cullen motioned toward the poor skinless and skewered creature. "You can go back to sleep if you'd like. Until it's ready."

She nodded a little awkwardly. "I'm okay."

Silence ensued, interrupted only by the soft crackle of flames and occasional hiss as juices from the cooking meat dripped into the fire.

"So," she said, noting that none of the books had been left behind for her to get started on. "Just us?"

He nodded, pausing to think of what to say. Morrigan chose to step in, not wanting to wait for him to find his words. "You do not ride well. Thane Magicsbane sent them home to make sure all is well. We'll go slower."

"I see," Katrina murmured. She leaned her chin into her hands as that silence began to descend again. "Thank you."

He nodded, glancing from her to Morrigan and then back at their meal.

"So how long until we get to your hold?" She picked at the fur around the top of one of her boots, shifting her head to rest in just one hand.

"Depends on how fast we go," he replied, shrugging a little. "They will be there in a week and some. I think we will be there in three, at most."

"Three weeks."

As she glanced up, she tried to see where the sun was through the bare branches overhead. Some of them were already starting to bud with new leaves.

"Twill pass by quickly, no doubt," Morrigan offered. Even as she spoke, she patted a satchel resting beside her. "And perhaps we'll have time to read."

So they hadn't sent everything ahead. Katrina felt better, despite not particularly wanting to read. She would still be useful. It was important to do her part. After all, she had promises to keep, and she needed to get them done before the Orlesians came after them again.

Came after her.

Cullen lightly hit her arm with the back of his hand and held out part of the unidentifiable rodent, skewered onto a stick.

Once they finished, Morrigan gave her more salve for her legs, and she slipped into the tent to apply it quickly before moving to help them pack the camp. She was about as useful as she'd been the previous days, though Cullen didn't seem to mind her 'help'. They rolled the furs together, took down the tents, doused the fire, and then packed their things onto his steed. Gunvor, he'd introduced it as.

Morrigan handled her own belongings, keeping mostly out of their way, though she did stop a few times to suggest ways that Katrina could do things more effectively. Both Avvar had seemed impressed by the fact that Katrina was actually capable of learning, when things were explained to her.

Small miracles, she supposed, trying not to feel a little slighted by their earnest surprise.

Cullen and Morrigan swung up easily into their saddles, and Katrina tried not to look as depressed as she felt when she imagined riding for another day—another three weeks. To her surprise, Cullen pulled her up in front of him side saddle, curling his arm around her waist and resting his hand on his saddle beside her hip. She leaned into him a little awkwardly, peering forward as he started the steed into a slow trot. When she looked up at him, he was watching the way ahead, though his gaze darted down to her quickly. He paid more attention to her than she'd realized.

When she glanced over at Morrigan, the woman had a mixed expression on her face as she let her gaze wander around their surroundings. She couldn't tell if Morrigan was bored by the layout of the land or saying goodbye.

Perhaps it was both, somehow.

Katrina felt so out of place sitting there in front of Cullen, without a thing to do. Letting her gaze wander, taking in the frozen forest where every tree looked ridiculously similar, she finally sighed, looking back at him.

"If…we're going slow enough to talk," she glanced ahead again, "what's the Avvar word for horse?"

…-…

Cullen cracked his shoulders as he finished with his tent for the night and checked to make sure that Morrigan had been able to set up her and Katrina's without incident. Of course she had, and was already starting on a small fire for their camp.

"Come on, then," Katrina's voice was soft from behind him, and he turned his head to see her standing next to Gunvor, patting his leg and motioning for him to lift his hoof so that she could clean it. It was the one thing she had seemed proficient in since their travels began—aside from getting into trouble—though before they'd been in a large enough group that Cullen had always tended to Gunvor before she'd reached the beast.

Speaking of, his horse seemed quite content to ignore her. She waited a moment before trying again. She gently ran her hand down the horse's leg, stopping near the hoof and again trying to persuade the creature to lift it for her.

Cullen made sure most of their supplies would be ready for the morning and then headed over. She noticed him as he stopped beside Gunvor's head, running his hand over the beast's nose and up to its mane and down again. When he spoke, it was in Avvar, "Up."

Gunvor lifted his hoof. When Katrina had picked it, she turned toward him, tilting her head. "What was that?"

"Ah, up." He repeated the word in Avvar again. She echoed it softly. The way her accent wrapped around his language, giving it the oddest sound, was enchanting. They'd spent the day teaching each other words in each other's language.

"I think this plan was not considered carefully," Cassandra had said the night before she and the others had left, eyeing the lowlander's tent suspiciously after Katrina had retired for the evening. "She was asking me something about words… Does she expect the rest of us to assist as Augur Corpseflame did?"

That was when Cullen had remembered that almost no one in his clan could speak common and that Katrina was likely not going to be able to talk to more than a handful of his people.

At least there was Morrigan, though the woman didn't seem very interested in casual conversation.

He'd just have to be sure to teach her enough of their tongue that she'd be able to ask for help if she needed it while she stayed with them.

Though she had a heavy accent—no doubt he did to her, too—she was picking up the Avvar tongue rather quickly. Morrigan had warned him that if he taught her much more, she would likely talk his ear off, but he couldn't see that as much of a problem. He liked the way her voice rose and fell, the enthusiasm she put into her tone, the way she occasionally put emphasis on the wrong part of a word.

When Katrina moved to the next hoof, she said the command in Avvar, though Gunvor merely stood there, disinterested in listening. As she tried again, Cullen leaned toward the horse's ear, whispering the word as quietly as he could. Obediently, the horse raised its hoof.

Katrina let out a triumphant laugh that had Cullen grinning from ear to ear. However, she glanced back at him, and he quickly tried to hide it, not wanting her to know what had really happened. She must have seen the amusement in his eyes, because she gave him a most suspicious once over before going back to tending his horse.

He repeated the assistance on the last two hooves, always making sure that she wasn't looking before he helped. Though he'd told her that she didn't need to tend to their steeds, she'd grumbled that she wouldn't just stand about with nothing to do.

He'd tried to have her help with the tent, but she was a bit too clumsy, and the knots she tied had been a bit too tight, making it hard to adjust when it ended up lopsided. The way she'd been cursing herself, he'd only suggested she not worry about anything so that she wouldn't be so stressed. After all, with everything going on, she was no doubt dealing with a lot.

She did well with Gunvor, though…when the noble beast chose to listen. Morrigan's steed was more amicable, too.

Dinner went by quickly, the light fading from the sky and the cold sweeping in in its wake. The days were slowly getting warmer, but Hakkon still had a firm grip on the world during the night.

Morrigan had taken the first watch over their camp, as she and Katrina intended to read by firelight for a while, and Cullen had wished them well, climbing into his tent and trying not to read into the smile that Katrina had given him before he'd turned away.

Sleep came as slow as ever to him, but when it did, his dreams were mild. Mostly, they revolved around his hold and returning home to find things out of place and different, with no one else noticing that everything had changed.

When he woke up, he was filled with a sense that something was off—changed, though he dismissed it as remnant paranoia from his dreams and slipped out to take his shift for the rest of the night. After Morrigan had headed to bed—Katrina had retired a bit earlier, despite trying to stay up and make up for the last few days of unproductivity, or so Morrigan claimed—and Cullen settled down by the fire for the long night.

The flames had such a comforting crackle, mingling with the light creaking of branches as the wind wandered by, kissing his bare skin and tousling his hair.

It would be good to be home.

At least, that was what Cullen kept telling himself.

In truth, as much as he wanted to be home and to seeing his siblings, he really wasn't looking forward to being back at the hold as thane, and he hated himself for that. These last few weeks had been… freeing. His shoulders had not been weighed down with the pressures of keeping the hold running. He was not his father, and he was not Mia, and he and everyone else knew it. Leading in combat was easy—the raid had actually been almost refreshing, until his people had begun to fall—but leading in problems of a more domestic nature drove him mad.

Likely, the more important, less immediate problems had been saved for him, so he would be spending the first few days home going over disputes and arranging challenges to allow the Gods to help sort out the more problematic issues.

And he doubted many people would be thrilled to be dragged into this bizarre Lowlander mess.

Cassandra had offered—reluctantly—to be the one to stay with Morrigan and Katrina, even knowing that she likely wouldn't be able to keep up with any conversations that they had in common. She'd pointed out that the sooner Cullen returned home, the better, that it wouldn't look good for him to be the only live Lion to fall behind. What if people thought that he had fallen and that Cassandra and the others were trying to cover that something horrible had happened to him.

He'd told her to have someone come out to meet him to prove he was fine. He would only be two weeks behind them, and he had given Katrina his word. After the way she'd cried about being left behind, he hadn't been able to do that to her again.

"Where's a mind when it's lost? Winding, wandering, wrapped around a finger. Hard to mind. It is a pretty one."

Cullen's gaze rose to see a familiar face watching him from across the fire, embers reflected in pale blue eyes like fire raining down from the sky, the echoes of an old, forgotten war. The smile under those eyes was innocent enough.

"You…" Cullen leaned forward, half wanting to douse the fire just so he could get a better look at the boy. As though reading his mind, the young man stood up and walked around, sitting beside Cullen.

As Cullen appraised him carefully, the young man nodded his head. "They don't know that another clan was involved. They'll hunt the Wolves first. Your clan should be safe."

"Should?" Cullen quirked a brow.

"Motives driven with rage, thoughts skewed. A clan is not a clan without trust. Too many secrets, too many traditions cast aside. He hides his sins in plain sight." The young man slouched toward the fire. "The wolves had a spy. I took care of it."

"A spy?" Cullen furrowed his brow, leaning toward the young man. "What do you mean?" Even as the young man looked a bit frustrated and seemed to think about what he'd said and how to say it differently, Cullen narrowed his eyes. "You mean there was a spy in the Wolves? For the Lowlanders?"

"Yes," the young man nodded, perking up. "She didn't like what he'd done. If they were selling themselves, might as well sell high. Neither considered they'd be what the Lowlands call loose ends. They forgot that even a mountain man can tell a secret. The Lowlanders don't forget so easily."

Cullen felt a sudden twist in his gut. "Are you saying the Wolves brought this mess on themselves?"

A flash of fear crossed the boy's face for a moment before he shook his head. He whispered a few things under his breath too quickly for Cullen to keep up with. Then, abruptly, he pointed off to the side. Cullen's gaze followed his direction, staring out into the woods to see nothing but shadows and trees.

After inspecting the sleeping woods, he let his gaze wander back toward the campfire, that crackle and pop of the burning wood soothing and calm. Even as his mind started to wander back to his clan—they would be alright, though something about that reassurance didn't sit right with him—he noticed a slight movement to his side and glanced over to see a young blonde man sitting beside him.

"You… you helped me find Katrina."

His companion seemed relieved by that, settling more comfortably into place beside Cullen. "And you're helping her now. That's what matters. She tripped on a strand of the web and caught the spider's attention. The thread sticks to her still, but you can cut it away." He tapped his hands against his knees before adding, "Cut carefully."

Even as Cullen tried to ask what that was supposed to mean, he was sitting alone at the fire. His gaze wandered toward Katrina's tent before he focused his attention on the fire, getting lost in the flicker and dance of the flames in front of him.

Then, he got up and headed back into his tent.

Somehow he knew, no one would attack the camp tonight.