"Your people deal with Lowlanders far more frequently than mine. Surely you could have thought of this before healing her? You could have had a woman healer tend to her or…" Cullen shook his head, pacing a little, trying to calm himself and keep from snapping at Morrigan.

This wasn't right.

According to the Shadow Wolves' expert on Lowlanders, Katrina was no longer considered a lady because she had been left alone with men. It seemed ridiculous at best, but even Cullen had heard the stories of the Lowlands. They held sex and marriage in a more permanent manner than the Avvar. To them, sleeping around could bring ruin to a family.

That they could be so rigid about this, though…

Morrigan rolled her eyes, keeping her voice even as she retorted, "You are missing the point. She has been out of sight of chaperones and her kind. It wouldn't matter if she'd been captured by an all-female raiding party. Should she go home, they won't believe her if she says she's been chaste. She was lost to her world the second she became involved with the raid."

"Which wasn't her fault." Cullen scowled.

However, before Cullen could try to think of some way to right this travesty, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"It's a little early for righteous indignation, isn't it? Well, not for Starkhaven. We breathe that sort of thing, but I didn't expect it quite so far south…"

Turning in time with Branson, he watched Katrina crawl out of his tent, stiff, hair a frizzy mess, leathers wrinkled, blanket still hugged about her. She stretched, cracking her shoulders before meeting his gaze, her eyelids still heavy with sleep. She blinked a few times before narrowing her eyes. "Or did I misread the tone of your yelling?"

"We were discussing how you are no longer a lady," Morrigan replied curtly, already packing her things onto her steed.

"Didn't really think that was everyone's business, but alright…" Katrina's expression was one of distinct displeasure, and Cullen felt guilt needling his stomach. She'd told him in confidence, a confidence he hadn't kept—he should have realized such a thing would be private. She folded his blanket and then set it back just inside his tent and began tugging on her leathers, dragging them back into place as she fought back a shiver or two. Her brow pinched together, her hands pressing against her hips. "So the yelling was for…?"

"Your situation isn't fair," Cullen said, stepping up to her and lightly taking her hand.

At that, Katrina let out a dry laugh. "Well, kind as your words are, they do not, unfortunately, change anything."

Cullen scratched at the back of his neck, frown in place as he watched her glance around and then sigh. Morrigan had left Katrina's bedroll on the ground, yet to be rolled. As Katrina stepped over to it and began to pack it with such careful, unsure movements, Cullen walked over and knelt beside her. "When all of this is over, where do you intend to go?"

"Go?" Katrina echoed, blinking up at him, fingers digging lightly into her bed roll to keep it from coming undone. "My dear thane, I typically do not know what I'm doing the next day, let alone figuring out where I'll be once all of this is over. I don't even know how long this," she paused to motion toward the books packed away on Morrigan's horse, "will be."

"But you cannot go home," Cullen clarified, brow knit together.

Holding her breath for a second, Cullen could swear she might cry. However, she merely shook her head, sighing. "Well, worst case? I could head to Ferelden, like I'd originally planned. Clarence won't be there, but I'm sure I could figure something out."

"You could stay with us," Cullen reminded her, his voice soft as he reached out to brush back her hair.

"You say that now," Katrina retorted, her voice lighthearted. However, as Cullen leaned forward to get a better view of her face, he saw worry there for just an instant. When she looked at him, she seemed fine, a half smile in place as she lightly tapped the back of her knuckles against his arm. "But when your hold's luck turns sour, you'll have a different story."

"I already told you: there's no such thing as luck."

When she'd finished packing her bedroll, he took it from her, securing it to Gunvor. Part of him wanted to go off about the stupidity of Lowlander culture, of the ridiculousness of being exiled for matters completely out of her control, but Cullen had been a bit taken aback at how readily she had accepted her fate.

He had a hard time believing that fire in her would honestly let such a thing pass. He could still see that brilliance burning in her, see it simmer to the surface every now and again—especially when she found something particularly vile in those books or when her sister was mentioned. It had yet to burn as bright as that night she'd stood against him, but then, she hadn't been in that sort of situation again, had she?

It just seemed odd that she wouldn't fight against this…

Branson had already set to taking down Cullen's tent, not bothering to wait for a request for aid. With the two of them working together, they were ready to go in no time. The whole lot of them wolfed down a quick meal—mostly dried fruits and nuts—and packed the leftovers. Once they'd made sure that their camp had been completely dismantled, they headed to their steeds.

Katrina trailed after Cullen. Since they'd started riding harder again, he'd noticed she seemed a little stiffer and a little slower each day. If Branson hadn't insisted that the hold required its thane, he might have offered to spend the day where they were, to allow her some time to rest.

The thought occurred to him that he could likely leave her with Branson and Morrigan, continuing on by himself back to the hold. The others could take their time, and he could have everything sorted out by the time she arrived.

He paused, drumming his fingers against Gunvor's saddle as he stood there, considering it. Her fingers brushing against his arm brought him out of his thoughts. "Don't we need to go?"

"You don't ride well," Cullen murmured.

At that, he was pleased to see a slight flicker in her eyes as she scowled. "I've not complained about it, have I?"

"You don't have to. I can see that you hurt."

Crossing her arms, Katrina let her gaze wander away from him. "I'm quite good at voicing displeasure when it happens. If I couldn't ride, I'd say something."

"You could go at a slower pace with Branson," Cullen offered. When Katrina narrowed her eyes, he quickly added, "He'd keep you safe. I promise."

She'd stepped closer to Gunvor, one of her hands resting against the creature's shoulder. She drummed her fingers gently against the beast before peering back up at Cullen. "You said we're almost to your hold, though, didn't you?"

"Another two days of hard riding."

Katrina scoffed. "I can handle two days easily."

Cullen reached out to her, catching her chin and inspecting her carefully, looking for any tell that she was grandstanding. She lightly caught his wrist, standing a bit straighter despite herself.

"Have some faith, would you?"

With a smile, Cullen let go of her and swung up onto his steed. He helped her up, and, as she settled in behind him, wrapping her arms around him, he leaned back to whisper to her, "If you decide you do want to ride slower, all you have to do is ask."

She leaned forward, nodding her head against his back. With a smile, he nudged Gunvor into a trot and then into a run, the steed easily navigating the woods that it had been raised in.

As they went, they passed different landmarks that Cullen knew well, and he found himself wanting more and more to stop and point things out to Katrina. He wanted to show her the waterfall he and his siblings had leapt off throughout their youth, to show her to coves where one could hide when the world got to be too much, or cliffs that glittered with ancient, crystalline rocks. He felt her lift a little away from him as they passed one of the oldest trees in the territory, its budding branches reaching ever higher as though to brush the Lady herself.

He'd thought to slow Gunvor for a little while, to let her enjoy the scenery—she'd complained about all the trees looking the same once or twice during their travels, but had still had her breath stolen by the occasional copse or ancient oak that towered above the others.

However, such things could wait. The hold would come first. Then, once things had settled, he could spend time with her, taking her back to these quiet places, showing her what could be her home, if she wanted it so.

When they finally stopped for the night, it was hard not to just push the group to ride straight through. If they did, they could reach the hold by the morning. They could see the sunrise from one of the winding paths up the mountainside, home at last.

After all these weeks of dreading this return, Cullen was surprised at how much he suddenly wanted to be back. It would be good to be in his own hold, his own home, his own bed. So what there would be some problems that would likely need sorting out. They would be sorted in a few days and then things would settle into some semblance of normalcy.

It would be the same.

The same, yet altered. Katrina would be there. As would Morrigan.

Getting the hold to accept Morrigan in their midst would be the most arduous task at hand. Thanks to his mother's influence and the fact that they never dealt with them, Lowlanders were more of a curiosity than a threat, and Katrina would likely be accepted faster… though the possibility of attack would put a damper on that.

Cullen could figure it out. He'd have to.

He felt an odd sensation ripple through him. It would be fine. The Orlesians wouldn't know to look for Katrina down here, and by the time they figured out she wasn't with the Wolves, Cullen's group's trail would have gone cold.

As he debated the trials and tribulations coming up and how they would likely be conquered for more easily than he'd originally worried, he turned to glance over his shoulder and found that odd young man standing near one of their tents—Branson's.

"He's a bundle of frets, but they're untangling," Cole whispered, slowly wringing his hands as he let his gaze wander over the rest of their camp. Branson had gone to sleep early, no doubt intending to wake everyone up before the sun could again in the morning. Katrina and Morrigan had retreated to their own tent to read—despite being exhausted, Katrina had seemed well enough to put in the effort tonight.

Or had that just been her trying to prove that she was fine? She could be quite stubborn, couldn't she?

Cole walked slowly to the fire and sat down.

"Is this the part where you send me off to dream?" Cullen asked, a half smile on his lips as he eyed the odd boy, vague memories of similar evenings from the past few weeks bubbling up in his mind.

No, not a boy. He was a God of some sort, wasn't he?

"Drifting, drifting, quiet everywhere. Too quiet. The world needs sound. Not the screams, though. Please don't let those come back." As Cullen's smile slipped, Cole glanced up at him, his large eyes unblinking. "Your knots are harder to untangle. They're so old. Too much time has been caked to the strings. They don't want to come undone. She helps, though, I think." He paused and then nodded, mostly to himself. "She gives you something else to dream about."

Cullen shifted a little uncomfortably. Before he could say anything in response, however, Cole frowned. "I'm sorry. I said that wrong. You should forget."

With a blink, Cullen glanced around the empty camp and felt a yawn swelling in his chest. It would be another long ride tomorrow, and he needed to be well rested. It wouldn't do to have him falling off his own steed, taking Katrina down with him.

He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips and crinkled the skin around his eyes as his mind wandered to her. He'd almost asked her to share his tent when they'd stopped for the night, but had waited a little too long. By the time he'd finally gotten the courage, she'd excused herself from the fire to go read.

Giving her tent one last glance, he noted the soft fire flickering against the tarp from inside, casting shadows against the tent of the two inside, still reading.

His smile was still in place as he headed to bed.

…-…

"If you're going to share his tent, you might as well just do it. There's no point in being coy," Morrigan said as she set her book down and lounged back on her bedroll, on top of the covers of course. It was 'warm' enough now that none of the Avvar needed blankets.

Katrina shifted a little on her own bedroll, head drooping despite her resolve to get through at least ten pages of the journal she was currently on. Since Morrigan's explanation of what had happened at the Veilfire Caverns, Katrina had wondered if perhaps this was something that had been done by Orlesians, and might be found in the journals. What if both clans were innocent? The thought made her sick.

Morrigan's accusations, however, made that swimming nausea shift to fluttery flips that did nothing for her disposition. "It was just the one time—"

"Please, do not insult me," Morrigan muttered, slinging an arm over her eyes. "I know you leave almost every night."

Not to go to him, though.

Yes, she'd thought about it plenty of times, but mostly she'd wandered the woods near their tents, walking off leg cramps and stretching her muscles. Her bedroll was comfortable enough, but she dearly missed to sleeping in real beds.

Maker, how long had it been since she'd been in a real bed?

At the slower traveling pace, she'd been able to ease most of her aches with a bit of a stretch, examining the trees, talking to someone…

A blonde boy she couldn't quite remember. He had an odd way about him, but his heart was in the right place, and he helped make sure she never wandered too far from their camps.

With the rougher riding, however, Katrina's legs hurt too much to wander, and she could feel tension building in her shoulders and back, in her neck. Her arms were sore from having to cling to Cullen, as well.

One more day.

One more day and they'd be at his hold, and with luck, she'd never have to ride another horse again.

Admittedly, that was completely impractical, but still. The thought of existing in a world where horses were just pretty things that didn't race faster than a canter was blissful. She doubted Gunvor would like a life like that, though. The steed liked the wind in its mane, the woods flying past them as he galloped onward.

Katrina shifted a little where she lay, and a dozen pains screeched briefly for release. As she stilled, they settled back into dull, forgettable aches, save of course her legs. She was out of the salve that Morrigan had given her, too.

Tomorrow would truly be a nightmare.

One more day…

Cullen had mentioned that his augur was a healer, one more invested in the living than Dorian had been. Perhaps when they arrived at the hold, she could talk to him and ask for healing. Or would that be too forward?

Perhaps she could ask Cullen about etiquette. Though, that would just make him worry.

She smiled down at the pages in front of her as she thought of how he'd offered to try to ease her journey. It had been sweet, but largely pointless. Once they were off these beasts, she'd have a chance to heal up, even if they couldn't or wouldn't offer her magical healing.

It was better to get this over with faster.

Though…that would mean that she'd be throwing herself into reading more once they'd reached their destination and that this task would be finished faster. Despite Cullen's offer, she would need to go back to Orlais at some point. She couldn't very well settle her own scores while living happily ever after on the edge of the world with a handsome thane.

Maybe after that was said and done…

If she left, though, she would never be able to find her way back. Damned trees and their duplicitous nature, all looking just like the ones beside them.

Using a small leaf that she'd plucked earlier in vengeance to mark her page, Katrina closed her journal and sat up slowly, gritting her teeth against the chorus of aches that flared yet again.

"Well, since you know oh-so-much of my dealings, I shan't want to disappoint you," Katrina said, imitating the way she'd often heard Amelia deal with those who made scandalous assumptions. She stretched her back and instantly regretted it as tensions spread through her, threatening to tighten and lock in place.

"There is no need to be glib just because your secret is out," Morrigan muttered, arm still over her eyes as Katrina slumped forward a little too quickly. "If you wished to keep it, you should have returned to our tent before the morn."

Despite wanting to argue with Morrigan that she really had no clue what she was talking about, Katrina had a feeling that it would be like yelling at a brick wall. Pointless and completely unsatisfying.

Instead, she leaned toward Morrigan and whispered, "Well, you know how those torrid love affairs go. More fun with a risk."

When she saw Morrigan's lips twist into a frown, she retreated from their tent. The woman could, after all, conjure flame at will.

Cullen had already retired for the evening, much to her disappointment.

It was probably for the best. Knowing her, she'd probably say something stupid like, "Mind if I join you tonight? Sleeping on you is so much more comfortable than the ground."

Yes. Surely, it was every man's dream to know that he was more companionable than dirt.

Granted, there were a few blankets between her and said dirt, but still…

Maker. She was so tired she was contemplating the accuracy of a failed flirt she'd never even used.

Even as she pursed her lips and wondered what to do—going back into her tent wasn't something she particularly wanted to do at the moment, and wandering about was out of the question—Morrigan's conjured light from inside their tent went out.

She glanced around the camp another minute before finally walking over to Cullen's and kneeling beside it, with a bit of effort. "Thane…?"

She heard stirring inside and waited patiently until Cullen was there, opening the tent flap to peer out at her. When he tilted his head, that smile of his tugging on his scar, she motioned toward him. "You weren't sleeping yet, were you?"

"No, not yet." He slid back, motioning for her to come in. As she did, he seemed to hesitate though, as if something made him want to retract his invitation.

Katrina paused, ignoring the sharp pains in her legs that pleaded she just sit down. "Is there a…" Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. "I'm not… I'm not ruining your reputation coming in here like this, am I?"

She hadn't even considered that before. What was the Avvar's stance on visiting private quarters after dark? Since her time here, they'd seemed so much laxer about pretty much everything that her society had to have a stick up its arse about that she hadn't considered there might be more commonalities than she'd thought.

The look he gave her was…almost pitying as he shook his head. "You don't need to worry about that."

While it did leave her wondering about what had made him hesitate, she came into his tent fully. He moved lithely to his bedroll, patting the space beside him, as he had the night before. "What brings you to me tonight?"

"I…"

Maker, don't say the stupid comment about dirt.

"Do I need a reason?" She shrugged a little too casually, settling in beside him. When she glanced up at him, he was watching her, eyes narrowed slightly as though he were trying to read her, as though she was some cryptic creature, foreign to him. That…wasn't very far off the mark, was it? Suddenly finding her nails considerably more interesting, she inspected them idly. Despite all the mayhem she'd been through, they were in fairly decent condition. "I came by tonight because, well… Last night was…"

Nice.

How could a single word be so hard to say?

She took in a breath, steeling herself to try again. "What I mean is…" She could feel the flush in her cheeks, burning the tips of her ears and the back of her neck.

Maker, what was she, a child?

It wasn't as though she'd never been kissed, or as if she was a virgin. That ship had sailed years ago, with a rather handsome young noble who had promised her the world only to recant the next morning, even as she daydreamed of being his.

However, even that spineless prat hadn't made her feel this way. That horde of butterflies that had settled in her ribcage belonged to Cullen alone, as did the giddy, light-headed feeling that was settling over her now as she tried to think of what to say that would contain these feelings, do them justice.

"Katrina…?"

Cullen was leaning toward her, legs crossed in front of him, head dipped forward a little so that his hair hung around him like a shaggy, curly halo.

"I like it when you're nearby."

Maker save her. That was as bad as the dirt comment, wasn't it? Like he wasn't nearby all the time. The fact that she could curse a stranger to pieces with hardly a thought, but could barely vocalize what this man meant to her…

What kind of a fool—

Even as she berated herself, his hands cupped her cheeks, his palms warm against her skin, and he drew her closer to him. As his lips brushed against hers, Katrina's mind completely blanked. All her anxieties, all her problems evaporated from her mind as her eyes drifted closed, shutting out everything save for the feel of his mouth against hers.

She leaned into his kiss. Her hands slid against his chest and up, until she could bury her fingers in his wild curls. While one of his hands moved to cradle the back of her neck, his other hand traced down along her throat to her collarbone and across to her shoulder. His fingers trailed over her skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation that sent shivers through her.

When they broke apart for breath, Katrina couldn't help a lightheaded giggle, leaning forward further to nip his lip as he smiled back at her.

A slight pain lanced through her back as she stretched up to kiss his scar, reminding her that as pleasant as his company was, she was still fairly sore from the day's ride.

Cullen shifted his legs so that he could follow her as she rocked back, though he hesitated when he noticed her wince. For a moment, he looked confused. Then, a frown settled into place as he lightly ran his fingers along her jawline. "You're hurting."

"I…no." The word dragged slightly, her attempt at deception poor at best.

Letting his head hang down for a moment, he let out a soft groan. When he looked back up at her, his smile had returned, an almost mischievous spark in his eyes as he sat back, holding his hands out to her to draw her to him gently. "You will be the end of me. You know that?"

"I should hope not," Katrina murmured as she leaned against him. He lay back slowly, stretching out across his bedroll and bringing her with him. When she was happily nestled against him, the feel of his toned body pressed against her making those butterflies in her chest go wild, she added, "I'm rather fond of you, after all."

Cullen let out a soft laugh, clasped one of her hands, and brought it up to his lips so that he could kiss her palm. "Sweet dreams, Katrina."