Wounded

The skirmish with the werewolves had not gone well. Thankfully no one had been bitten, but both Alistair and Dinadan had nasty claw wounds. Morrigan pulled a small tin from her bag and opened it. She dipped her fingers into it and scooped out a sticky yellow substance that smelled strongly of bitter herbs. She handed the tin to Elaine with a nod toward Alistair. "'It will sting," Morrigan warned, "but it will keep the wound from festering. You tend him; I will tend to the hound." Elaine watched warily as Morrigan approached the wounded dog. The witch began to croon softly to Dinadan who snapped his head toward her and whimpered slightly as she touched the ragged claw marks in his side. Elaine was startled to notice Morrigan's face and hands transform into slightly doggish features as she continued to soothe the dog. Dinadan sniffed at Morrigan, then flopped his head down and allowed her to apply the salve. Having assured herself that Dinadan was calm, Elaine turned toward Alistair who was washing blood from his neck and grimacing.

"Let me see it," she said as she reached up to move his hand away from the wound. She sucked air through her teeth as she saw the extent of the damage. Four large cuts extended from just below his ear to his collarbone. It was a wonder his throat hadn't been completely sliced open.

"Is it that bad?" he asked. "I mean, it hurts, but…"

"No," she responded quickly, "it could be a lot worse. It's a miracle you're not dead." She held up the tin of salve. "I need to put this on it."

Alistair pulled away and looked down at it. "What is it?"

Elaine shrugged. "Morrigan's orders."

"Oh, that makes me feel so reassured. It's probably poison."

"She used it on Dinadan."

"Oh, well, in that case," he responded sarcastically. "If it's good enough for the dog…"

"Are you finished?"

Alistair sighed and craned his neck slightly to give her better access, grimacing as the movement pulled at his wound. Elaine gently rubbed the herbal mixture into his torn skin. He hissed as it stung and held his breath until it passed. When he exhaled, he realized she had stopped applying the salve, and her hand was resting on his skin. Her face wore a strange expression.

"This was a close one," she said. "They could have ripped your throat out."

"No need to remind me," he replied.

"You should go back to the Dalish camp. Take Dinadan with you."

"What?! I'll be fine. I can still fight. I don't need to go back."

"Perhaps not, but I need you to go back."

"Why?" he demanded.

She squeezed his shoulder. "Alistair, we're the only two Gray Wardens left. If one of us is killed, it's up to the other one to continue on and stop the Blight. If both of us are killed, there's no one left. We need to make sure that doesn't happen. We need to pick our battles more carefully, and stay separated if we can, so the other one has a better chance."

Alistair opened his mouth to protest, but Elaine interrupted him before he could start. "Remember that speech you made when you gave me the arrows?"

He nodded in resignation. "I'm holding you to it," she said. "No arguments. You're injured. You might still be able to fight, but I need you at your best. Take Dinadan and go see if the elves have a healer or something. And while you're at it, see what you can find out about the talking werewolves. I knew Zathrian wasn't telling us everything."

"Alright. Good plan. What do I do if I find out something you should know?"

She laughed in surprise. "Well, I expected that to be harder."

He shrugged. "I keep my promises."

"Take Zevran with you, too. He can be our runner. We'll leave a trail for him to follow."

Alistair's lips tightened in disapproval, then he gave a terse nod. "Alright."

Her hand moved up to cup his cheek. Their eyes met and held.

"Good luck."