CHAPTER 8

That first night of the Kocari Wilds, outside of Lothering was when the nightmares began. The trio had stopped outside of the small town for the night to camp, deciding that it would be best to enter in the morning when they weren't likely to be taken as robbers.

Briar hadn't bothered in trying to put together any kind of shelter, instead waiting until Alistair had made a fire and then collapsed in front of it; not caring if her armor hurt her; cut into her flesh. She was exhausted, physically and mentally.

But sleep hadn't come right away. In a half awake state, she had begun to cry; silently. She missed her parents, more than words could ever express. She missed her mother's gentle hen picking and her father's amusement whenever his Pup had done something decidedly unfeminine.

All the grief she had been shoving aside was beginning to seep out. There was no looming task that had to be done immediately. Nobody to distract her from it, no Wynne to cheer her up with her grandmotherly observations and comments.

She even missed her sister-in-law Oriana, who had been kind if not a bit scandalized by Briar's 'wild and savage' ways. And Oren, poor little Oren…

Where was Fergus? Did he know of what had happened to their family? Did he know that she had left their father dying in his own blood with only their mother for defense? That she had allowed them to sacrifice themselves so that she could run, run like the coward she was raised not to be.

No, that wasn't true. She hadn't run like a coward. Her father was dying, there was nothing to be done for him and she knew her mother. Eleanor was, had been, a stubborn woman and there would have been no changing her mind. She had wanted to die at her husband's side, defending him, it was an honorable death.

She had run so that her family's name might live on and so she could seek vengeance on Howe.

The thought of brutally killing Rendon Howe was enough to warm the inner chill that had plagued her bones since waking in Flemeth's hut; a tired but bloodthirsty smile flickering across her face.

Envisioning his death, she finally fell asleep.

They were all so anxious, eager, ready to march. To lay waste to the world above, their leader, their god had been awoken; ready to guide them.

We are ready, the collective mind shrieked, banging their swords against shields wildly, hooting with malicious glee.

Thousands of single beings, all connected, no individual thoughts, just the hive.

And the singing was so beautiful. The master was calling them, urging them…

Briar shot upright with a gasp; cursing under her breath as her stiff armor made her body protest. Ignoring Alistair's murmurs of concern and Morrigan's not so soft, snide remarks she pushed herself to her feet and began walking away from the fire, away from them.

She needed a moment's privacy.

Once she was certain that they couldn't see her, she stepped behind a tree and hunched over; her hands on her knees and closed her eyes, forcing herself to take deep, calming breaths. For a moment she thought she might be sick but the moment passed, mercifully.

"Briar?"

She should have realized that Alistair wasn't about to let her wander off alone, even if it wasn't too far from camp, not so soon after everything that had happened. The events of Ostagar were too fresh in both their minds. "I'm fine." She forced herself to keep her voice steady, a waver belying her true state.

"No," Alistair sighed, gently easing an arm around her shoulder's and helping her to straighten. "but you will be. Nightmare?"

She nodded, keeping her posture stiff.

If he noticed, he didn't comment, instead began guiding her back towards camp, slowly. "I probably should have warned you…"

Briar listened in silence as he explained –in his own way which involved humor, some funny, some not- her dream, how it hadn't been so much a dream but a glimpse into the Archdemon's mind, the hive's mind and that it was fairly common in the beginning for Grey Wardens.

Morrigan was waiting for them when they finally stepped back into the fire's light; her eyes slowly moving from one face to the other. She made an odd noise before turning her back to them, going to her own bedroll, a luxury neither Briar nor Alistair had as they had left Ostagar with nothing but the clothes on their back, their satchels, armor and weapons.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Briar asked as she eased herself back down onto her patch of grass, this time removing the breastplate.

"Besides an increased appetite?" He replied with a grin, settling down across from her and shrugged. "No, that's about it. You already know that we can sense Darkspawn when they're close, and the same applies for them. They can sense us."

"Increased appetite?" She studied his face carefully, fairly certain he was teasing her when she wasn't in the mood to be teased. "I haven't felt any hungrier lately."

"The way you scarfed down what we have had to eat…"

"A pittance!"

Alistair flashed her another of his quirky little grins.

~!~

When she woke up, Briar was… warm. Which she considered rather odd as the fire had long died out and the early morning chill was in full effect if the way Alistair was hugging himself from across the way were any indication.

Frowning, she shifted and became immediately aware to the source of her warmth. "Draven!"

Her Mabari Hound had survived Ostagar and found her… She began laughing, realizing she was also crying at the same time as she threw her arms around Draven's large neck; reveling in his wet, sloppy kisses as he expressed his own joy at their reunion.

Their moment of joy was interrupted by Morrigan's sarcastic tone: "And now we have a dog. And Alistair is still the stupidest member of the party." *

"Hey!" Alistair half-whined, raising his head from his pallet in order to shoot the Apostate a dirty look before taking in Briar and Draven. "Seems like he missed you."

"I missed you as well." Briar directed to her companion, scratching him behind his short and tattered left ear, frowning as she bent forward to examine the fresh signs of battle. "It looks like we're not the only ones who left Ostagar bearing scars." She didn't bother looking at Alistair, knowing his face was probably in a pained expression.

Morrigan –who had been up for hours- huffed, rolling her eyes impatiently as the Wardens slowly began to get to their feet; ignoring the way the two exchanged looks that were no doubt regarding her. "If you are ready to get on with it, Lothering isn't far off. Unless, you'd like to delay saving Ferelden by another day or two?"

Draven just cocked his head to the side as his mistress groaned.

~!~

Briar did not want to take Morrigan into the Chantry, at all. They were all dirty, flecked with fresh blood and all of them rather… cranky. On the way in, they had met with a band of highwaymen who had made the disastrous attempt at taking a 'tax' from them.

The highwaymen would never tax anyone else again, ever.

Briar had enjoyed her first glimpse of Lothering as Alistair and Morrigan bickered over where they should head to first. The village was in utter disarray. Refugees were camped out all over, the fortunate who had escaped Ostagar as well as a lot of Chasind folk.

It looked like the actual town residents had packed up and fled, save for a few poor desperate folk who likely had nowhere to run too. She couldn't even see any local militia, nothing but some Templars, in fact, they had had to pass one on their way in.

He had warned them that they wouldn't find much in Lothering, especially shelter. Not that they needed nor wanted to lodge in the village. They were simply here for information.

She was pulled from her internal debate as to how much strife Morrigan could cause if left to her own devices outside of the Chantry when the ravings of a Chasind man she had originally ignored became loud enough where ignoring them was no longer an option.

"The legions of evil are on your doorstep! They will feast upon our hearts!"

Alistair let out a soft groan when she turned towards the small cluster surrounding the raving man, his feet dragging ever so slightly as they approached the group.

"There is nowhere to run! This evil will cover the world," The man turned, halting when he came face to face with Briar; his fevered eyes searching hers frantically. "Like a plague of locusts!"

"Please," What looked to be one of the recent refugees pleaded, clasping a child against him. "You're scaring the children!" He had his hands clamped over the little girl's head, trying to mute out the noise and frightening words.

The Chasind whirled around, sparing a glance at the girl. Her quivering body seemed to spur him on. "Better to slit their throats now than let them suffer at darkspawn hands!"

Briar noted that Alistair was now standing directly at her side, something in his posture had hardened. She glanced down, watching as his hands clenched and unclenched into fists, reaching out quickly to brush her fingers against his; hoping to calm him at least a bit. Her attention was drawn back to the lunatic when a grubby, wavering finger was suddenly beneath her nose; her eyes crossing downward to watch it.

"There! One of their minions is already amongst us! This woman bears their evil stench! Can you not see the vile blackness that fills her?"

From behind, Morrigan made a derisive noise, clearly unimpressed.

Shaking her head, Briar made a dismissive gesture before glancing at the scared, frightened eyes that were focused on her. "I have no time for a madman and I suggest none of you make the time."

"Well it's true, innit? We're all going to die?" Shouted someone she couldn't see.

"If that's what you truly believe, then of course, fool." Deliberately turning her back on the crowd, she looked at her two companions. "I think we need to find whoever is in charge and find out what we can."

"Then leave, before these blubbering idiots drive us all insane." Morrigan added contemptuously.

Still shouldn't take her in the Chantry, Briar thought with a sigh.

And the sad part was that she was right, they had made it past the first few pews and a Templar had stopped them, aiming his question at Morrigan. "You… Miss. What is your name? You… seem quite odd to me."

Morrigan had been in her element, shooting him a look that said she plainly found him lacking in one way or another, her tone arrogant as she replied: "You would not be the first to think so, but avert your eyes. I will not have you staring overlong."

Knew I should have left her outside.