CHAPTER 6

If Briar had been the least bit worried with how she look, she would have considered Morrigan a rival. As it was, the raven hair and amber eyes that reminded Briar of wolves were merely pleasing to look on. Morrigan's face would have been beautiful if not for the fact that it seemed set in a permanent sneer, contempt for the outside world having been made clear from early on.

Truth be told, Briar was more concerned about where Morrigan had led them; her eyes taking in the hut that stood on a dry bit of ground in an otherwise wet and swampy land.

Beside her, Alistair was muttering under his breath; the words 'toad' and 'Apostates' the only ones she could make out.

"Mother, I've brought you visitors." Morrigan called out in her clear, commanding voice.

Morrigan's 'mother' was not what Briar had expected at all. Whereas Morrigan was statuesque and beautiful in an unconventional sense, her 'mother' looked every bit the wilder witch Daveth and Ser Jory kept claiming Morrigan was.

"I can see that, child." An old woman stepped out from the doorway of the hut, her surprisingly clear eyes taking in the four that stood uncertainly in her 'yard'. "Hmm... Much as I expected, I suppose."

"Witches, I'm tellin' you." Daveth whispered loudly, shifting from one foot to the other behind Briar. "They'll turn us into toads, they will."

Alistair wasn't twitching nervously but he wasn't relaxing either, his entire body rigid as he stared at the old woman. "Are we supposed to believe that you were expecting us?" He asked, just a trace of a laugh in his tone.

Briar merely shook her head, wondering if he was ever truly serious. She focused on the crone, taking in the matted; stringy grey hair and gaunt, lean frame. Beneath this wizened exterior, she sensed power and it made her very uncomfortable.

"You don't have to do anything, least of all believe." The crone said harshly, sneering at him contemptuously. "Seek the truth or cower from it, either way, one's a fool."

That seemed to spur Daveth into becoming vocal with his assertions that they were dealing with witches, moving to stand besides Briar. "She's a witch." He said, his head swiveling to look at her. "We shouldn't be talking to her."

"Quiet Daveth," Ser Jory scolded from behind in a low undertone. "If she's a witch, do you want to make her mad?"

"Now there's a smart boy," The witch in question said, her gaze settling on Ser Jory who suddenly found the dirt at his feet interesting. "All in all, not very important in the grand scheme of things. But... it is not I who decides, believe what you will."

"She's mad, simply mad." Briar thought with mild awe, wondering if this woman had any idea of what she was saying, glancing at Morrigan who simply looked bored. When she turned her attention back to the crone, she took a step back, almost letting out a scream.

The crone was directly in front of her now.

"What about you? Does your women's mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

Briar hesitated, taken aback at being so directly asked. What did she believe about what? This crone? "I... I don't know," She said finally, her voice unsteady. "I'm not sure what I believe."

Behind her mother, Morrigan shook her head disgustedly.

"Mother' was considering that answer, her head cocked to the side thoughtfully. "Heh, a statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies." She said finally, rolling her eyes heavenward. "Be always aware, or is it oblivious?" She asked to nobody in particular before looking back to Briar. "So much about you child is uncertain, and yet... Yet I believe. Do I?" She tapped her chin with arthritic fingers. "Why yes, yes I think I do."

If not for the three men behind her, Briar would have probably stepped back at this point, wondering if the old woman was insane.

"So..." Alistair began slowly, humor still lacing his words. "This is a dreaded wilder witch?"

Briar snickered in spite of herself.

"Witch of the wilds?" The crone said in obvious disgust, drawing all attention back to herself; her heavily lined face folding in on itself as she frowned. "I suppose Morrigan must have told you that, how she adores such tales."

Morrigan looked annoyed at this, rubbing her forehead in annoyance, as if her mother was giving her an insufferable headache.

"Though, she would not admit it. Oh how she loves to dance under the moon."

All three recruits and the Warden shivered at the cackle of laughter that came from the woman.

"They did not come to listen to your wild stories, Mother." Morrigan interrupted crossly.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes?" The crone was brisk now, suddenly all business as she turned and stamped back to the hut, calling over her shoulder: "And before you begin barking, your precious seals wore off long ago."

"What the bloody hell is she doing with them?" Daveth demanded, in a low voice, his eyes never leaving the darkness that was the open doorway into the hut.

"Ask her." Briar suggested.

He grimaced.

The old woman emerged from the hut, carrying what looked to be a long, leather tube. "I have protected these." She said simply, handing the tube to Briar.

Briar studied it thoughtfully, nodding.

"You... Oh." Alistair broke off in what was likely to have been a rant, sounding a bit sheepish. "You protected them?"

"Why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them, tell them that this Blight's threat is greater than they realize."

"What do you mean?" Briar asked.

"Either the threat is more or they realize less." The woman said as if it were exceedingly simple and she were explaining it to a child.

Daveth snorted.

Now she was laughing. "Or perhaps the threat is nothing." Wild laughter. "Or perhaps they realize nothing."

This woman, Briar realized, was thoroughly insane; feeling chills breaking out all along her body, even though she was rather warm inside her suit of armor.

***

"That was the most... oddest thing, ever." Ser Jory said as they walked through the gates that led to the encampment.

"Odd doesn't begin to describe." Alistair muttered, having taken the treaties from Briar. He halted and turned to look down at her. "Why don't you go bathe, I'll give these Duncan." He suggested gently, noting how tired she looked and frowned. "Maybe have a mage look at your arm?"

A bath sounded like heaven and she smiled wearily, nodding. "Thank you."

"That way."

She followed the vague direction he had pointed in, later rather than sooner finding herself in front of a large tent with steam coming out of a hole at the top. Hesitantly, Briar looked around before approaching, nearly walking into an older women who was emerging.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry." The woman apologized, her clear blue eyes taking Briar's tired form in. "You must be here for a bath."

"I- yes."

"Come on then, this is a tent for women, the men use the stream near the Wilds, just outside the gate." The woman bustled Briar into the tent. "My name is Wynne."

"Briar." She felt the tension beginning to drain from her just from being inside the warm, humid tent; her eyes landing on several large bathing tubs.

"The newest Grey Warden recruit." Wynne nodded knowingly, beginning to fill a tub with buckets of water that rested on hot coals. "You just got back from the Korcari Wilds, did you not?"

"Yes." Briar slowly began shedding her armor, each piece feeling like it weighed several stones. Each and every part of her body ached, her forearm was beginning to sting again. Before the tub was even filled, she was sliding into it, sighing contentedly as the water eased her body. "Please, you don't have to go to any trouble for me."

"You'll be defending us against the darkspawn, the least I can do is make sure you're halfway rested." Wynne laughed dismissively, reaching down into a bucket to retrieve a soapy sponge. "Here you are."

Briar washed in silence, watching as Wynne busied herself about the tent. She took note of the robes the older woman wore, surmising she was a Circle Mage. "Are you here to fight as well?" She asked finally, just to bridge the silence. Not that the quiet was unpleasant, just after listening to her companions for hours as well as the sounds of fighting, quiet seemed... odd.

"Yes, but from the back of course. Mages usually do better from a distance."

Laughing at the humorous look on Wynne's face, Briar sank beneath the water.