Better Their Blood Than Mine
In the Wilds, her limitations in combat became painfully obvious. When the first pack of wolves descended upon them, she was nearly overcome. She was accustomed to long-range shooting, and she was practically useless in close quarters.
The first night at camp, Daveth pulled her aside for a few tips with the bow and then handed her a dagger.
"If you can't shoot'em, stab'em" was his terse advice.
She looked at the dagger in disgust, recalling the spurt of blood from Howe's guard at Highever.
"I'm not going to stab anyone. I don't like blood."
This earned hoots of laughter from the men, except for Alistair, who only just managed to wipe the smile from his face as he offered to give her a lesson in using the weapon. She wanted to refuse, but she chafed at the laughter and she remembered the wounded soldier they found dragging himself back to Ostagar, so she nodded.
"Better their blood than mine," she said.