A/N: For those who read the original post of Chapter 21, some of this chapter is going to seem familiar. I wasn't entirely happy with that earlier post, and after some feedback, I've made fairly significant revisions to the first meeting between Zoya and Alistair. So I encourage you to take another look at Chapter 21! The first conversation between Zoya and Alistair (covered in the first part of this chapter) has also been substantially revised and a new section has been added. Thank you to my beta, Eve Hawke, and Etaine M. for their patience and continued support. And thank you for those who provide reviews – feedback is always welcome, and in this case, I hope it makes for a better read!

Idiot! Why didn't I ask her name? Or introduce myself? Maybe if Wynne hadn't been looking at him like a puppy whose ears she wanted to ruffle, he wouldn't have felt so self-conscious. Or maybe it was the alluring elf turning her smile in his direction that twisted his tongue in knots. Nothing wrong with blaming any awkwardness on being distracted by a cute pair of dimples, right?

As the elf's emerald eyes followed his journey along the edge of the mages' camp, the earlier clumsiness of his mouth threatened to spread to his feet. Alistair stole a glance toward her, an odd tingle shivering over him as their gazes met, just like back at the clearing. Maybe the strange sensation had nothing to do with her - it could have been from the mages as they gathered power in preparation for the Joining. But then if the mages were the cause, he probably wouldn't be grinning like a fool.

Who was she and where had she come from? He absently rubbed a gloved hand along his jaw as he considered it. She had to be new - there was no way he'd have missed her until now. Something about her was different from the other elves in camp, but it was beyond the obvious – not that the unusual armor and weapons, pretty face, and crimson hair wouldn't have been enough to make her stand out. No, it was something more elusive, like catching an appealing scent on the breeze but not quite being able to identify what it was. Hmm… maybe that was it. If the other elves in camp were like the still, incense-filled air in the chantry, she was like the fresh breeze that blew in through the open window, tempting you away from your prayers.

Could she be one of the Dalish? That would explain the arms and armor. Maybe the Dalish had decided to join the fight against the darkspawn? And what was her connection to Wynne? Once he was done with his errand for the Revered Mother, he'd just have to seek out the mage to find out what he could.

Alistair dragged his fingers through his hair, sneaking a last peek before he rounded the corner and she disappeared from sight. His feet faltered as she offered a shy smile, her eyes lingering on him for a heartbeat before she bowed her head toward the mage.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head to clear his mind, fighting the urge to turn around and go back to talk to her. As much as he would rather let himself be distracted by the exotic elf, he had a job to do. Duty comes first, he reminded himself.

His morning had been going so well before the Revered Mother cornered him on his way back to the Warden tent, insisting that she needed him to deliver a message to Senior Enchanter Edwin. With all of the priests and workers around camp, it seemed odd that the messenger had to be him. He'd considered coming up with some sort of excuse to dodge her request, but he knew Duncan would want him to just do what he was asked and not make a fuss about it. While the Grey Wardens were treated as heroes elsewhere, their status in Ferelden was still tenuous. And conscripting Alistair hadn't earned the Wardens any favor with the Revered Mother. He owed Duncan more than he could ever repay, so the least he could do was endure a few moments of discomfort while playing the part of smiling messenger.

From what he could recall, Senior Enchanter Edwin was as unpleasant as they came, and that it was Alistair delivering the message wasn't likely to make him any friendlier. He sighed, forcing leaden feet to enter the temple ruins.

"Umm… excuse me… Senior Enchanter Edwin?" As he tried to get the man's attention, Alistair shifted his expression and stance to look as dull and unthreatening as possible. It was a talent he'd spent years cultivating.

The mage scowled up at him from a stack of parchments on the ancient altar, "What is it now? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle already?"

Alistair took a calming breath as he raised a placating hand, "I simply came to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser mage. She desires your presence-"

"What Her Reverence desires is of no concern to me." Rolling his eyes, the mage's frown deepened before his attention returned to the papers before him. "I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders I might add."

Ah… invoking the king was always a fine excuse for acting like an utter prig. Alistair took yet another deep breath before speaking, trying to sound helpful."Should I have asked her to write a note?" I swear to the Maker… the next time the Revered Mother so much as glances at me, I'm going to run in the opposite direction. Maybe I'll be lucky and there will be a nice cliff to jump off. Yes, that would be far less painful.

"Does it look like I need yet another pointless missive?" Waving a dismissive hand, the mage continued leafing through papers. "You may tell her I will not be harassed in this manner."

Alistair tried to be pleasant despite his growing annoyance with the difficult mage, but the effort was taking its toll. His face was starting to hurt from the forced smiling. "Yes… I was harassing you by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit." The man crossed his arms, his scowl deepening.

I know this is going to get me in trouble, but… "And here I thought we were getting along so well! I was-" Words and coherent thought fled as the pretty elf came around the corner, stealing every last scrap of his already waning concentration. Mesmerized, Alistair watched her glide silently over cracked cobbles, her movements sinuous. Leather armor clung to her slender form, its buckles and straps calling attention to her subtle curves. Moving toward a crumbling pillar, she bent to pluck a bundle of long grass. Her nimble fingers toyed with the stalks as she leaned against the old stone, watching him with obvious curiosity.

"Are you done, or must I endure more of your nonsense?" The man hissed.

The mage's voice hit him like a bucket of icy water. Alistair dragged his focus back to the man glaring up at him, the words tumbling forth before he could stop them, "I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one."

"I…well, I… I never…" The mage glowered at Alistair as he sputtered. He took several noisy breaths as he tried to compose himself, his voice haughty when he spoke, "Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, fool!" Grabbing his papers, he pushed past Alistair.

That went well, I think! Any conversation with a mage that didn't end with him getting turned into a slug was a success as far as he was concerned.

A quiet clearing of a throat reminded him that he wasn't alone, and he chanced a glance in the elf's direction. She watched the mage stalk away for a moment before gracefully pushing away from the pillar and sauntering toward Alistair, her expression inscrutable.

Swallowing past a mouth gone dry, he hoped his voice wouldn't crack when he spoke. "You know… one good thing about a Blight is how it brings people together…"

Halting within arm's reach of him, her eyes searched his face, pearly teeth capturing her lower lip. She shook her head, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You're a very strange human."

"I wish I could say you were the first person to tell me that…" He chuckled, a corner of his mouth tugging upward.

"Really?" An eyebrow raised as her lips shifted into a faint echo of his own expression, "But then, you might be onto something. Perhaps we could all gather around the campfire - elves and humans, Templars and mages, soldiers and camp workers - holding hands and singing songs."

"Ha! That would give the darkspawn something to talk about." Alistair ran a hasty hand through his hair. "Have we met? You look really familiar – I mean… I guess we did meet, well sort of, back there by Wynne…" He cocked an eyebrow, trying not to be too obvious as he took the opportunity to peer at her. His heart thudded as their eyes connected, the air feeling thin as dark eyelashes fluttered over the brilliant, green eyes looking up at him.

He shook his head in an attempt to get the questions spinning through his mind sorted out. "You aren't a mage, are you? I thought you might be since you were in the mage's camp talking to Wynne. But of course you're not – no staff or robes, right? Not that there's anything wrong with being a mage-" Alistair knew he was babbling, but he seemed to have lost control of his mouth. Idiot! Don't forget to ask her name and introduce yourself this time! He took a deep breath, "My name is Alistair, by the way. And you are…"

"Yes, I know who you are – Alistair, the… the Grey Warden." As his jaw dropped, she offered a tentative smile, "Wynne told me." Her eyes shifted to her nervously twisting fingers. Once she stilled them, she met his gaze and held out her hand, "My name is Zoya Tabris. I'm a new recruit-"

"Wait! The Zoya Tabris?" The words knocked the air from his chest. "The apostate from the Denerim Alienage? The elf trained by Duncan? That Zoya?" As his eyes traveled over her, he tried not to gawk. He swallowed hard as he reached out to clasp her offered hand, his own feeling huge and clumsy as it encompassed her dainty one. The hum of her magic passed through his glove, and he resisted the urge to pull away. Taking a moment to let the strange warmth twine its way over his hand and up his arm, he fought back the nearly instinctive Templar response to having that kind of power in such close proximity. The last thing I want to do is provoke her by wicking away her mana.

She glanced down at their clasped hands, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. As her eyes lifted to his face, a tight smile tugged at her mouth. "Hmm… Yes… I suppose all those things are true. Although I prefer just Zoya if you don't mind – makes things easier if you need to get my attention quickly." She sighed, her attention shifting back to their hands as she slipped free. "You seem to know quite a bit about me. Let me guess… Duncan, right?"

"Well… it's not like he shared your life story. He just mentioned you in his last letter, that you're an exceptional fighter and a mage, a real asset to the Wardens." Alistair couldn't help but fidget under the weight of her gaze, searching for words that wouldn't get him in trouble. "Umm… I have to say… You aren't at all what I was expecting."

Zoya tucked a crimson tendril behind a delicately pointed ear, her eyebrow arching. "And what were you expecting?"

Apparently those weren't the words he was looking for, but they continued to tumble forth, "Well first, where's the robe and staff? I thought that was some kind of mage uniform." He offered a sheepish grin, "I guess I imagined your eyes glowing red as you tossed fireballs at me. Or that you'd swoop down, cackling evilly as you turned me into a toad or something equally slimy."

Her laughter echoed off the surrounding ruins. It was a lovely, honest sound, and it did wonders to chase away his anxiety. This time, when she smiled, it reached her eyes. "Common ground, she said…" Zoya shook her head at his obvious confusion. "Just something Wynne said…" Her hand reached up to toy with the end of the thick braid draped over her shoulder. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, anything you want." As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, he regretted them. Duncan's lecture about what he could and couldn't tell the recruits resounded in his head. Please don't make a liar out of me.

"So what's the story with that, umm… disagreement you were having?" Zoya leaned against the altar, watching him with narrowing eyes.

"Disagreement? Oh! You mean with Senior Enchanter Grumpy Pants?" Alistair loosed a relieved sigh as she nodded – at least this was a question he wouldn't get in trouble for answering. Although if Duncan found out about his less than diplomatic interaction with the mage… Realization suddenly hit him, Great… she overheard. Why didn't I keep my mouth under control? She must think I'm a lout. Heat rose in his cheeks, "So, you heard that?"

She offered a wry grin as she tugged at her ears, "I'm an elf – it would have taken an effort not to. I only heard the end of it though."

"Right…" He rubbed a finger against his chin, "See… the Circle is here at the king's request. And the Chantry doesn't like that one bit - they just love to show the mages how unwelcome they are. And that puts me in a bit of an awkward position since I used to be…" Oh Maker, she's an apostate - how is she going to react to this? Swallowing hard, he steeled himself for her reaction. I might as well get it over with. "Well, I used to be a Templar."

Her face was surprisingly neutral as she regarded him. "Yes, Duncan told me."

Alistair loosed a noisy breath. "I guess it makes sense that he'd tell you. Wait! Did Duncan say anything else about me?"

"Umm… Duncan seems to think quite highly of you." Zoya's fingers pressed against her lips for a moment before she offered a lopsided smile. "He probably had a lot to say, but I didn't hear much past the Templar thing." She shook her head, quirking an eyebrow, "I have to say, you're really not what I expected either."

He might regret asking this, but he had to know, "And what were you expecting?"

"Hmm…" She dropped her gaze to a finger tracing along the scrollwork carved into the edge of the altar, "I guess I'd imagined you to be a plate-armored giant, your eyes glowing red with righteous fury as you prepared to smite me." As her eyes met his, a blush spread over her cheeks.

A corner of Alistair's mouth twitched upward, "Well... for once, I'm glad I'm not living up to someone's expectations."

"Yeah, me too…" She regarded him for a moment as she returned to nibbling at her lip, "But back to my earlier question - the Circle and the Chantry aren't playing nicely together. How does this end with you getting chewed out by the mage?"

"Well, I'm sure the Revered Mother meant it as insult, sending me as her messenger, and the mage picked right up on that." He shook his head, running fingers through his hair, "I probably shouldn't have agreed to deliver the message, but Duncan said we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently not everyone got the same speech."

"Oh! I got that speech!" Dimples deepened in her freckled cheeks as she offered a wide grin. "More than once even." Zoya pushed away from the altar, brushing her hands against her thighs. "And speaking of Duncan, we should probably get back to what we were supposed to be doing before he comes looking for us. He said I'm to help you gather the other recruits and any equipment we might need for going into the Korcari Wilds - that you'd know what we needed. You don't have more errands to run for the Revered Mother, do you?"

"No, thank the Maker! I think I've had my fill of mages and priests for the day." As she loosed an amused snort, his hand leapt up to press against his forehead, "Oh! I didn't mean…" This was going to be difficult – it was far too easy to forget she was a mage.

She chuckled softly, a wry grin settling on her face. "It's fine - but the day is young and you might mean it before it's over."

Alistair shook his head, turning toward the entrance to the temple ruins and gesturing for her to accompany him. As he strode along, a stretch of silence prompted him to glance down to make sure he hadn't lost her. She moved along silently at his side, keeping up with his longer strides with surprising ease. But then she'd been traveling with Duncan, and he suspected the commander hadn't coddled her. Her head swiveled as she took in the sights of the camp, and he tried to imagine what it must look like to her eyes. "Have you had a chance to see much of Ostagar?"

Zoya shook her head. "I haven't seen much besides the bridge and the mages' camp. Duncan was pulled away by the king and sent me to find you on my own." She looked around to make sure no one was nearby, continuing in hushed tones, "And speaking of the king, he doesn't seem to take the darkspawn or the Blight very seriously."

Alistair clamped his mouth shut as they skirted around a group of soldiers listening to a priest recite the Chant of Light. He wasn't used to sharing his thoughts about Cailan with anyone, and this certainly wasn't the time or place to do it. Soldiers tended to be horrible gossips. "You may be right about that. But he's been very generous to the Wardens." He dragged a rough hand over his hair, "I can show you around as we retrieve Daveth from the Tower of Ishal and look for Ser Jory. The camp's not very big, and I'm not sure how much time you'll actually spend here, but it's probably better that you know your way around."

~oOo~

As Zoya and Alistair wove their way between milling soldiers and workers, they were forced to slow their pace. Zoya tried to keep her focus on her surroundings. Her eyes flitted from the humans and elves, to the colorful tents that were so different from the drab ones in the army camp, to the stone remnants of the old city. But her attention kept drifting to the Warden at her side. The odd compulsion was like a thorn in her boot, the annoying sting only getting worse as she tried to ignore it. Something like relief washed over her when she finally gave in, sneaking a glance upward. As their eyes met, the fluttering in her belly grew, the butterflies becoming pigeons.

She ducked her head, her teeth finding her lower lip. When a soldier swerved into her path, she barely registered the movement in time to sidestep him. The uncharacteristically clumsy movement threw her off balance, and she bumped against Alistair, her hand clutching at his arm to keep from tripping.

"Are you alright?" He cocked his head, his brow furrowing with concern as his hand covered hers.

Taking a deep breath, she pried her fingers from his vambrace, her heart racing at his unexpected touch. She forced what she hoped looked like a casual grin to her lips, "Sure – I'm fine." Unless you count the humiliation...

Alistair nodded, returning her smile, "Glad to hear it. You're looking a bit pale." He glanced around him, "I suppose we should focus on finding the other recruits first. I know where Daveth is, so we could start there. Unless there's something you need-"

Focus is what I really need – I should keep my mind on the tasks at hand. Zoya cleared her throat, "Is there a place that I could get some supplies?"

He nodded, "The quartermaster is set up in the main area of the camp. But the Wardens should have everything you could need. Just give me a list and I'll see what I can do."

Tapping a finger against her chin, she considered the gear she needed. "Well, I guess the only things I really need before we head into the Wilds are some potions and wax to reseal my boots." She frowned down at her feet as she wiggled clammy toes, "They're really starting to leak. And maybe you could tell me where I could find a hot meal, a bath, and someone who can get a letter to Denerim?"

Alistair ran a gloved hand along his jaw, "Well, the food is easy enough – I've got stew going back at the Warden tent. And getting a letter to Denerim isn't a problem. The bath on the other hand…" His cheeks turned pink, "I've heard rumors that the king has one hidden away somewhere, but for the rest of us…well… The good news is that they've set aside a portion of the stream down in the valley for the women in camp to use, and it's upstream from the latrines and close to the Warden camp."

The pink hue turned decidedly red when Zoya raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I've seen it - please stop looking at me like that." Alistair's hand pressed against his forehead and he took a noisy breath. "The bad news is that recruits aren't allowed outside the main encampment, well except for our trip into the Wilds, until after the Joining." He offered a sympathetic shake of his head. "Not very helpful, I know. I've got some wax you can use for your boots. What kind of potions do you need?"

"Damn! What I wouldn't give for a real bath..." Zoya sighed, "I just need health and lyrium potions – I used up what we had when we were in the Brecilian Forest. I'm surprised I'm not glowing blue from all the lyrium I gulped down." Her nose wrinkled, "Someone really needs to find a way to make that stuff taste better."

"Ha! I'm sure that would have gotten you some interesting attention." He offered a lopsided grin, "We probably have some health potions in the Wardens' cache, although I'm sure we're on a strict ration. But I'm guessing that'll be the case throughout camp. Lyrium, well, that we don't have." His eyebrows raised in surprise, "Wait! You're a mage. Don't you have healing magic? Why would you need health potions?"

"Who me?" Zoya quirked an eyebrow, "Sadly, my magic is only useful for turning people into slimy things or throwing fireballs at Templars." Maybe at some point I should tell him I don't know how to do either of those things. But then, maybe it's best to leave him wondering.

"You're not going to let me live that down, are you?" He loosed an exaggerated sigh, "Those are perfectly valid fears – the Chantry told me so." He chuckled at her incredulous look.

A coarse voice cut through the crowds. "You – elf!" Zoya's shoulders hunched in an involuntary cringe, her head ducking as she scanned the area. A large man was charging toward her, his face ruddy and twisted into a scowl, "Where did you steal those weapons and armor? The guards will have you in stocks for this!" His meaty paw gripped Zoya's arm like a vise.

The way the human spat out 'elf,' he might as well have called her a knife ear. "Get your hand off me, human!" Zoya growled, squaring her shoulders and tipping her chin up to glare at him as she yanked her arm free. Her hands hovered over a pair of hidden blades as she shifted her weight, "I'd like to see them try."

Alistair pushed between them, offering her an apologetic look before squaring his broad shoulders and turning back to the quartermaster with a neutral expression, "She's with me, with the Wardens."

"Oh? I didn't know they took elves. My apologies, Warden." His eyes stayed fixed on Alistair, "There's so many of 'em running about-"

"And do you treat us all this badly?" Zoya spat as her scowl deepened, "I'm guessing worse - maybe you need to rethink that." Her hands twitched, a hot ball of anger growing in her gut. Why was she even surprised by the human's reaction? It wasn't like being a Warden made her any less pointy-eared.

"Yes, yes of course." He waved a dismissive hand as he turned and strode away.

Alistair dragged a hand over his face before turning back to her. "Umm… that was the quartermaster," His face twisted into a grimace. "Look…why don't you wait for me over by that broken column. I'll see what I can do to get you those potions."

Zoya offered a terse nod before spinning on her heel and stalking off toward the building debris. She loosed a noisy breath as she kicked at a rock, listening to it skitter away before climbing up to perch on the column. Her feet dangled, kicking at the moss-covered stone as her eyes wandered over the camp. It didn't take long for her focus to shift back toward Alistair. Pulling a knife free from its hidden compartment, she flipped it in her hand as she watched him talking to the quartermaster. He certainly didn't look as lighthearted now. As he leaned toward the human, bracing himself on stiff arms with his fists pushing against the broken stone serving as a work table, he actually reminded her a bit of Duncan. A strange thrill passed over her as she imagined Alistair chastising the man for his rude behavior.

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the quartermaster's area. It was a fairly simple setup – the worktable sat in front of a pair of tents, one that likely served as the human's quarters and the other that likely contained supplies. The whole thing was tucked into a corner of the ruins, broken walls and columns looming over the tents. It would be easy enough to exact a bit of revenge. If the human could be lured away, she could sneak in and drop one of those old walls on his quarters. Or maybe she could attempt an ice spell and freeze the ground under the human's tent. She chuckled as she imagined him climbing into his bedroll, only to realize he was trying to sleep on a slab of ice. But what of the Warden? How would he react if he knew of her plotting?

Alistair offered a sheepish smile as he strode toward her, his eyebrows raised as he eyed the blade in her hand, "It was just as I thought – potions are being rationed. He thought the mages might be able help, at least where the lyrium is concerned."

Zoya hopped off the column, stowing the knife away and taking a deep breath. As much as it chafed that Alistair had stepped in to take care of such a simple thing as obtaining potions, there was no need to snap at him – he was just trying to be helpful.

Absently chewing her lip, she focused on staying at his side as they weaved through the crowd. There were too many distractions in this part of camp to comfortably converse, so Zoya shifted her attention to absorb as many details about this place as she could. But mostly what she saw was the armored torsos of human soldiers, occasionally catching a glimpse of the camp when there were breaks in the milling throng.

She took a relieved breath when they reached the edge of the stone bridge. Would she ever get used to be surrounded by so many heavily armed and armored humans? If Alistair had any reaction to the crowd, he didn't show it. But then, so far he seemed fairly unflappable. "Do you think the mages have supplies or a setup for making potions?"

"I'd imagine so - we could ask." He rubbed at his jaw, "Or we could check with the kennelmaster – I understand he makes all the medicine for the king's mabari."

"Now there's an idea!" She sighed, "But he wouldn't be dealing with any lyrium. I think we'll have to talk to the mages about that. I wonder if Wynne would help if we asked."

"I'm sure she'd try." He offered a crooked smile as their eyes met. "So how long have you known Wynne?"

Her hand sought out the end of her braid, twirling it between her fingers. "I just met her today." She worked her way toward the edge of the bridge, peering at the tents in the valley below them. "So the Warden camp is down there? And the other Wardens?"

"Yes, near the edge of the forest. But the Warden camp isn't very big since there aren't many of us – just a couple dozen." He cast a longing gaze toward the cluster of tents, "I've been staying at our tent in the main camp with Ser Jory and Daveth. But after the Joining…" He loosed a loud breath, running his fingers through his hair. "Well there it is – the Tower of Ishal. It shouldn't take long to get Daveth out of there."

Zoya couldn't help but feel a little impressed as her gaze settled on the structure. The Tower of Ishal was the tallest building in Ostagar, maybe a half-dozen stories high and built of stone block, "You humans do seem to have a love for towers."

Alistair chuckled, "Yes, I suppose that's true. If you think this one is impressive, you should see the Circle Tower. I'm convinced that they only take Templar recruits out there on stormy days. I still have nightmares of lightning wrapping around the top of it as the boat smashed along the waves." He shuddered, shaking his head roughly as he took a deep breath. "I hear this one was built by the dwarves, so it's a bit different from the ones built by the Tevinters I guess."

"Really? What would a dwarf want with a tower? I thought they preferred to be below ground." Zoya shaded her eyes under a hand as she followed the structure's lines upward. The tower stretched into the cloudless sky, the stonework of the mostly windowless walls seemingly intact all the way to the top. "Well, they certainly know how to build them."

The gate leading to the Tower of Ishal was barred, a single soldier standing out front. He stepped forward as they approached, his hand gesturing for them to halt. "I'm sorry, Warden. The Tower has been closed."

"Wait!" Alistair shook his head in confusion, "What do you mean, 'closed?' Since when? And why would the tower be closed? I thought we had soldiers up there watching darkspawn movements in the Wilds."

"By the orders of Teyrn Loghain just this morning, no one is to enter without his permission. The Captain didn't say why." The human leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. "But I hear it's because workers found something under the tower, tunnels or something. Maybe it's a safety issue, like the tower could collapse. I don't know."

Alistair peered past the soldier, "But what about the men housed in the tower? One of the Warden recruits was being kept in there-"

"Yeah, Daveth." The human nodded, "He left here earlier this morning, waving his release papers around like a trophy."

"What? Maker's breath…" Alistair rubbed a hand against his forehead. "Did he say where he was going?" A weary look shadowed his face as he muttered, "Do I even need to ask?"

The soldier seemed to be making an effort to sound neutral, "He said something about finding some ale and some company and then headed toward the main camp."

"Well, thanks for the update, umm…" Alistair extended a friendly hand.

"The name's Carver, Warden. Carver Hawke." The human inclined his head toward Alistair as they clasped hands.

The start of a frown furrowed Alistair's brow. "Any relation to an Ash Warrior named Hawke?"

The man grimaced, "You know him? He's my brother. Unless he's done something wrong, in which case I've no idea who that is."

"Yeah... we've met." Alistair rolled his eyes, a corner of his lips twitching downward. "Well, thanks again, Carver."

"Anytime, Warden. And please let your commander know that should he be looking for more recruits, I'd be honored by the chance." He offered a nod first to Alistair and then to Zoya before they turned and stepped away, "M'lady."

She chuckled as they walked back down the approach. "Ha! He called me 'm'lady!' That's a new one."

But Alistair didn't respond, instead growing strangely still, his eyes unfocused.

"Uh-oh. I recognize that look." A band tightened around her chest, "It's the same one Duncan got before we chased off after darkspawn in the Forest."

"So you know about that? That Wardens can sense darkspawn?" He raised his eyebrows as he shot her a sideways look. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Yeah, I can feel them now. They're nearby, but I can't get a sense of where exactly." He shook his head, a frown twisting his face. "I know that another of the Senior Wardens was going to check the area out, but now that Duncan is back, maybe he can take a look." A visible shudder passed over him as he glanced back toward the tower, "I'm getting a bad feeling about that place."

Instead of turning toward the bridge to the main camp, Alistair guided them toward the jumbled ruins of stairs disappearing into the thick brush. This was a part of the camp that seemed to have been neglected, the weeds and bushes stretching over both their heads.

She shot Alistair a bewildered look, "So what now? Where are we going?"

Alistair avoided her eyes, his cheeks turning pink, "This is a place where people go when they… well…when they want to…"

"When they want to… Oh!" Andraste's flamey bits! Could he be suggesting… Zoya's mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard, her heart thumping as her fingers knotted together. "Umm…look, it's not that-"

"Maker! No! By the Void! I didn't mean… You're really pretty, but…" He muttered to himself, "Maker's breath, Alistair, shut up before she runs away screaming..." His cheeks were scarlet, and from the burning in her own, she imagined that hers were a close match.

He took a deep breath, "This is one of the places Daveth might be. I've tracked him down here before. He has a favorite spot that he likes to go when he, well, you know." He ran a hasty hand through his hair, "One thing I should tell you about Daveth is that he's a bit of a cad. Well, more than a bit, actually. To be honest, I don't think there's a woman in camp that he hasn't propositioned, not that many have taken him up on it from what I understand."

"Well then… I can't wait to meet him." She rolled her eyes in response to his incredulous look. "But yeah… I know the type..." As they walked along the bluff, she strained her ears for any sounds of people. But the only thing she heard was the raucous cries of camp birds.

Alistair paused at the edge of a faint trail through the dense vegetation, pushing some aside to peer down it. "Do you hear anything?"

She held her breath as she listened again, but only heard silence. "No. It doesn't sound like anyone's in there."

"Just to be safe, I'll go first. There's no need for both of us to suffer. There are some things that just can't be unseen." Offering a wry grin, he pushed his way through the brush, careful not to let the branches snap back at her. He loosed a relieved breath as he reached the edge of the vegetation, "No one's here. I'm not sure if I should be thankful or worried." Walking out onto the cracked stone platform, he beckoned for her to follow. "I suppose since we're out here…well, there's something I could show you."

She stepped out onto the platform, the stone seeming to disappear into blue sky. As she reached the shattered perimeter, she gazed out over an endless expanse of trees. The sun reflected off a river that snaked through the trees and rocky hills, and birds circled lazily in the light morning breeze. "It's beautiful…"

"That's the Wilds, where we'll be headed." He offered a small smile, before staring back out over the trees. "I guess it is pretty from up here, although I've heard it's not nearly as picturesque when you're down in it, fighting through the brambles and sinking knee-deep in the muck. And who knows what this place will look like if the darkspawn corruption spreads, if the Blight isn't stopped here."

Zoya let the scenery wash over her, enjoying the peaceful moment. But then the picture shifted as she imagined the black ooze creeping over the trees and fouling the river. Swallowing hard at the bile rising in her throat, her hand snuck up to cover the magical cage in her chest that kept the foulness at bay. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, "Do you think it can be stopped here? The Blight I mean…" She gazed up at Alistair, feeling strangely calmed by his presence.

He took a deep breath and met her eyes, "It has to be. Duncan says that if it isn't, there will be little stopping the spread of darkspawn through Ferelden. But he also says that a Blight has never been defeated so quickly and with so little sacrifice." He offered a hopeful smile, "But there's a first time for everything, right?"

"Sure, why not. Anything's possible…" She offered a grin that she hoped looked as optimistic as his. Her heart thudded as his expression became more focused and he stepped toward her. "Umm… What are you…"

He blushed as he moved to within less than an arm's length of her. His gaze was fixed on her, but he avoided her eyes. "Umm… how do you feel about spiders?"

"That depends on how big they are and where I find them." She shuddered as imagined spiders skittered over her. "The little ones are the worst, hiding in my clothes or bedroll…"

"Hmm… you might want to hold still then." He reached toward her hair with a gentle hand. "You have a stowaway."

"Maker's ass! There's a spider in my hair? Please tell me there isn't a spider in there. Get out it out! Please get it out!" She tried to hold still as his fingers delicately plucked at her hair, but the sensation of hundreds of the creatures creeping over her had her fidgeting. Once his hand lowered, she released her tenuous control and her arms flailed, her hands dragging over her hair and rubbing at every bit of herself that she could reach.

He tried to look concerned, but within moments his laughter had him nearly doubled over. The sound of it mixed with her squeals and curses as it echoed out over the Wilds.

She shoved at him, but it was like trying to move a tree. "Andraste's flaming knickers! I swear - if this is your idea of a joke, I will turn you into something slimy!"

He stopped laughing, but his smile was wide as he straightened and held out his hand. "Perish the thought, m'lady. See! Take a look for yourself." He uncurled his fingers to show her his cupped palm.

Zoya snuck a look, the sight of the spider sending her into another spasming dance across the platform. All she could do was glare at him as he laughed, her hands once again brushing over herself to make sure there the evil creature had been alone.

Grinning as he moved toward a jumble of rubble, he gently released his captive. "Now how are you going to stalk darkspawn through the Wilds if a little spider is going to cause such dramatics?"

She rolled her eyes, "I'll guess you'll just have to guard me from the beasties while I hunt. Duncan did say you're supposed to look out for the recruits until the Joining." She took a deep breath, her mouth tugging into a lopsided smile, "You know that spider you just saved is probably going to gather all of his friends and form a creepy army to swarm us in our sleep."

He clasped her shoulder, shaking his head as he offered a sympathetic look. "Nope - just you. I saved him, remember. I'm the spider hero."

She grinned up at him, "Maybe they'll even make you their king."