Amell herself had never led a caravan, but she imagined it was at the very least just as tiresome and head-bangingly frustrating as leading a small group of travelers intent on stopping a Blight, so she had nothing but sympathy for Drust's position. The one she did not have sympathy for was Drust himself.

She was working herself up in quite a frenzy as she approached the caravan leader. After all, she'd stared down scarier men than him. If properly motivated, she could glower with the best of them. She had a big stick strapped to her back and lightning up her sleeve. Amell really meant business.

Which was why all the wind was taken out of her when she stomped over to Drust's wagon and found only a tired, worn-out old man, sitting on a crate, wringing his shapeless hat in his hands and sighing despondently.

He saw her approach and gave her a weary look, but didn't say anything until she walked right up to him and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"I suppose you're here about that Dyson boy," he said, sounding like a man twice his age.

"I am. Sorrel did have a point, you know. You promised safety," Amell pointed out in a clipped tone. She was not that willing to let go of her anger completely.

"And by the Maker, I thought I could deliver," he chuckled humorlessly. "It seems old Drust has been getting too old."

"It seems old Drust has been getting too much to drink, rather," Amell corrected, giving a long and meaningful look to the wine flask hanging from his driver's seat.

Drust smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"I probably should have expected this," Drust shrugged.

"Oh?" Amell raised an eyebrow.

"It's happened once before, through this very spot," Drust sighed. "A child gone missing. Little girl, couldn't've been older than five."

"You mean you knew this would happen?" Amell asked, feeling some of her fury coming back.

"Oh, that happened about... hmm... ten years ago, I reckon. We thought it was just a tragic accident, you know. Parents weren't paying attention, the child slipped away, got lost in the woods or fell in the stream and drowned... that kind of thing happens, on occasion," Drust shrugged again.

"You didn't look for her?" the mage balked.

"Sure we did, sure we did," Drust said quickly. "Scoured the woods, we did. One of the women said she saw the girl going upstream, chasing something, but..." He stopped, his brow furrowing in thought.

"But what?"

"But there's only some ruins, upstream. This water here, it springs from under some wall. We poked around the ruins a bit, but we figured she couldn't be there."

"Why not?"

"Well, to be honest, ma'am... they were some mighty creepy ruins," Drust admitted with a grimace. "Didn't feel right, ya know? Couldn't imagine a little kid playin' around those parts."

"So you gave up," Amell concluded.

"Eventually. We stayed an extra day, o' course, searched every stretch of the forest, but it was the autumn route, so nights weren't very forgiving. If the child hadn't been eaten by some wild beast, we figured, she'd surely have been taken by the cold."

"I imagine the parents weren't pleased."

"Oh, no, ma'am. They stayed behind. Said they were going to keep searching."

"Did they ever find her?"

Drust shrugged.

"Never ran across those people ever again. Wouldn't know."

Amell sighed. It seemed she was still the problem-solver of the world.

* * *

Sten awaited, as the hysterical woman gradually stopped crying and restricted herself to merely sitting there, bent over and miserable, sniffling into the handkerchief.

Amell reappeared, looking tired and solemn in the flickering firelight.

"I've talked to Drust. We'll have to search for Dyson tonight. He says he won't delay the caravan," she announced wearily.

"But-- but--" Sorrel stuttered, "But he's just a child! How can he do this?"

"Very easily, it seems," Amell muttered darkly. "Sten," she turned towards the Qunari, "We'll have to hurry. There's a place I want to search first."

Sten nodded gravely. Amell took an oil lamp hanging from the side of a wagon and motioned for him to follow.

"We'll be going upstream," she told him, then explained about the ruins and the other lost child. They were at the edge of camp, alongside the stream, when their path was blocked by an old woman.

"You're looking for the boy, aren't you?" the hag asked, exposing a toothless mouth.

"Yes. I don't suppose you're inclined to help?" Amell asked, not harboring much hope.

"No, no," the woman shook her head, tousled gray hair whipping about. "But you shouldn't either," she said grimly.

"Oh? Why not?" Amell asked, more curious than alarmed.

"He was taken by the fae, m'lady. The fae don't give back what they take as theirs."

Amell raised an eyebrow.

"The fae? Who are the fae?"

"What are the fae, you mean," the woman chuckled darkly. "They're spirits, far as anyone knows. They roam close to old ruins and snatch children when their parents aren't looking and if you go looking for them, they kill you and string your corpse up in the trees as a warning to others."

"What a charming story," Amell deadpanned.

"Ah, you think it's a story now, but if you go poking around in the business of the fae, you'll end up bad, trust my word," the woman warned. "Leave the boy be. There's no getting him back, there's only more death to be had."

"It wouldn't be the first time something's tried to kill me and failed," Amell said and sidestepped the woman, forging ahead into the woods.

* * *

They were far beyond visual range of the camp when Amell paused slightly and looked over her shoulder at Sten.

"What is it, kadan?" he asked, knowing that she wanted to ask something, but couldn't decide if she should.

"Nothing, just... You weren't obligated to follow me on this errand. It's not as if I'm still trying to stop a Blight anymore and I know you dislike it when I go out of my way to help people."

"It is true, I have no obligation towards that woman or her brother, but I would not have let you go alone even if you were to suggest such a thing."

She stopped, the lamp swinging in her hand, and she turned to Sten with a faint smile.

"I know. Thank you, Sten."

"I still do not understand why you insist on helping these strangers. They are not even your countrymen; you owe them nothing," the Qunari added.

Amell looked down, thoughtfully.

"I help them because it's within my power to do so."

"That could be said of many people, but not all are as willing to act on behalf of others as you seem to be," Sten argued.

"Ah, no, I suppose not," she chuckled and resumed walking.

Sten followed, sensing that she was not quite finished talking. Finally, after some ruminating, she continued.

"Do you know what they tell us from the moment we arrive at the Circle Tower?" she asked, rhetorically, judging from her tone of voice. "'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.' It's a phrase every Circle mage knows intimately, because it is repeated to us constantly. It... defines us, even those that resist it. But what even the Chantry loses sight of is the first part, that magic exists to serve. They lock us up, away from anyone we might hurt, but also from anyone we might help. If you are wondering why I do these things... I suppose it's because I was raised to believe it was my obligation to serve and all I lacked before leaving the Tower was the opportunity."

"I understand, then. It is your duty," Sten concluded.

"My duty... yes, I suppose you could call it that," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"Do you resent the Chantry for all the years you spent languishing in the Tower?"

"I... no!" she stopped in her tracks, surprised by this statement. "Sten, the Tower was my home."

"Yet it was still a prison," he pointed out. "You were not allowed to leave and Templars watched you closely."

"I... suppose I have no great love for the Chantry," she admitted.

"As well you shouldn't," Sten agreed stonily. "They are fools of the greatest order, if they should act in such a contradictory manner towards you."

"...Towards me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Towards mages," Sten clarified belatedly. "If the Chantry deigned to teach someone their duties towards their people, then it should have also allowed them to perform these duties. One cannot be told of their place in the world, then be barred from occupying it. Such a thing would be nothing short of cruelty."

Amell smiled at this.

"You do realize these are mages you're talking about, yes?" she asked, amused. "Didn't you tell me once mages were less than beasts?"

Sten seems to recoil for a moment, surprised by this (or by himself, perhaps).

"I... well. It appears you have been a bad influence on me, then," he noted with a frown.

"Ah, yes, demons and abomination the lot of us, hmm?" she chuckled and moved to continue walking. But he reached out from behind and grabbed her by the upper arm-- not harshly, but enough to stop her in her tracks-- and as she turned her head to look over her shoulder at him, he lowered his lips to her ear.

"Other mages do not concern me, kadan," he said softly. "Only you."

Amell stood perfectly still, entranced by the feel of his warm breath against the side of her neck.

She could not muster a reply at this, but it did not matter much, because a moment later, he'd released her and advised that they should hurry if they wanted to finish this errand before dawn. Just like that, he'd come close and distanced himself once again before she could even react.

Traveling with this man was torture, Amell thought.