"So I heard you ran off again last night! How'd that work out for you?"

Anders gave Micoli a wane smile, sitting more gingerly than he would have liked onto the bench beside him, settling his bowl of breakfast down stiffly as he tried not to bend his back. The man sighed at him, ruffling a hand through his tight golden curls, shaking his head like a human shaped, disappointed lion.

"Man, I told you, you should give it up. You don't even have any family out here."

Anders stabbed a spoon into his oatmeal resentfully, rolling his shoulders a little as he picked at his breakfast, not feeling particularly hungry after last night. It was… unsettling to know the man across the room had helped his punishment last night - knowing the man who held a whip against him was probably watching him. Anders swallowed tightly, pushing his bowl away slightly, tossing the spoon into it with a sad splat

"It's not about other people." He muttered, leaning over to offer his fingers to a cat approaching them. It paused before even reaching him, slinking sideways and hopping up into Micoli's lap. The older mage laughed at his sour look, leaning to make the cat accessible and crunching through an apple as Anders happily took the invitation.

"Then what, you're just getting all their tempers up for your own entertainment?" "No, I just-" "because that's what's happening." Anders hesitated mid-pet, earning a frustrated nip for his trouble, catching Micoli's unusually serious expression.

"Anders." Unusually serious voice, too. "You're an Apprentice. You can't go out like that. Wait until your Harrowing, like everyone else, and just ask for a leave."

Anders took his hand back, scowling.

"And when do you think that will be? When do you think they'll risk their Spirit Healer against the temptations of a demon? I turned twenty-three last fall and I still haven't-"

"Maybe if you stopped running off, they'd trust you more. You're not the only one who has to deal with the Templars, you know. You're making them testy at everyone."

Anders stood abruptly, scooping up his bowl with a dark expression.

"Anders-"

"Sorry, I'm not hungry. See you around."

Micoli opened his mouth to protest, but the half-formed sound faded into a sigh as he watched the young mage stalk away across the dining hall. "Maker, you're always so dramatic"

He stroked the cat's head, offering it a bit of cheese as he watched his friend prowl back toward the Apprentice barracks. The small creature rumbled a happy purr and Micoli hummed in return, the both of them content in the wide cage they had been given. With Lake Calenhad on every side - practically an ocean on its own, what was the point of doing otherwise?

Anders scowled, brushing past a group of much younger apprentices as he climbed the outer stairs, shoulders hunched against the Templars he passed along the way. Against the whispers of mages who knew who he was, and the rumors slowly spreading of fantastical stories about the how's and whys of his series of escape attempts.

"It's not for someone else." He murmured to himself, pausing on a step and squeezing the handrail as Ser Enri passed him. The man lifted one bushy black brow, giving him a curious look, but Anders stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him.

Anders relaxed minutely once he had passed, and turned to enter one of the studying chambers, the thickly barred window plenty to stop a person from crawling through they wouldn't stop a determined mage from melting them. The rustle of trees on the banks far away caught his eye, leaves flashing silver with each rolling blanket of wind flowing across their tops. Anders leaned against the bars, closing his eyes to breathe in the fresh air, to feel the cold wind whistling past old stone. He listened to the quiet slap of small waves breaking, and the cry of brown gulls nesting on the rocks that made the tower's base.

A croaking call, and he opened his eyes again to find the dark shape of a crow wheeling around the tower, long feathers spreading like inky fingers against the clouds. Odd, for that kind of bird to be so far out over the lake. There was no food, here. He watched it bank toward the tower, not realizing where it was headed until it was practically in his face.

Anders jumped back from the window, startled as wide wings battered against the iron bars, black claws scrabbling to find a grip before the bird poked its head through, wings splayed awkwardly.

"Oh, no you don't want in here! Go- go back to your nest." Anders bit back another curse as his clumsy attempt to shove the bird back out the window was met with a sharp peck, and a haughty look from the bird when it finally wiggled its way in to stand on the window sill.

"Blighted bugger" he muttered, nursing the growing bruise and glowering as it primly arranged its feathers back into place, tail flicking. "I don't suppose you'll want to go back out the way you came before you get into trouble?"

"Hello"

Anders stilled, staring at the bird in disbelief. Did it actually just-

"Er, Hello?" The crow peered at him with one eye, opening its beak like it was about to caw again, but the sound that came out was a raspy, buzzing,

"Hello"

It prickled the back of his neck, the sound of its voice. His first thought was that a demon had possessed the bird, but what would be the point of that?

"Hello" Plus, all it was doing was repeating 'hello' - not terribly demonic, that. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Did you… want something from me?" He kept his hands to himself, wary of the thick black beak flicking through those glossy feathers. It ignored him for a long moment, looking around the room and ruffling its breast feathers in cycles. It suddenly turned to look at him, and he stiffened under the gleam of intelligence, and the opening beak. It felt like something huge and unknowable was pressing down on him, some world-rocking moment was about to-

"Hel-el-ello"

Anders sighed, pulling a chair around to slump into it, folding his arms and looking at the bird.

"I'm not going to just let you fly around the Circle, you know. Someone would probably get it in their head to add you to a stew." The bird squawked at him, buzzing some unknown slurry of sounds before hopping to the edge of the sill and opening its wings. Anders leaned forward, splaying his hands warningly.

"I just told you, you can't-" The bird flap-hopped up onto his arm, sidling up onto his shoulder despite his flinching protests. "Your claws are really sharp, you know." Anders winced as the claws dug in tighter, almost as if in punishment for pointing it out in the first place. He grumbled under his breath, wary of getting a beak to the eyeball, but there was a part of him starting to warm up to the weird crow. Something small that felt deeply pleased to have been chosen and immediately trusted. His attempt to steady the bird when it slipped resulted in another painful stab with that sharp beak, and the warm feeling fled.

"If you get turned into soup, it's not my fault."

The bird didn't even respond, wobbling as he stood up and pushed the chair back in. It didn't fuss when Anders walked back down to the Apprentice barracks, hopping onto his bed once it was presented. He sat down beside it, tucking his legs up under him and wondered what on earth he was supposed to do with a talking bird. He could sneak food from the dining hall, he supposed. But where would it sleep? What about his bunkmates? Or the Templars? The circle mousers were the closest things to pets they were allowed.

The bird croaked something unintelligible, pecking at his pillow and hopping back to peck at his hand when he tried to herd it away, trying to figure out how to grab it without getting injured.

"Look, you really can't stay, okay? You'll be bored out of your mind, and probably get eaten by a cat. Neither of us want that, so go- Go out...side!" He finally caught the bird around its chest, enduring the outraged caws and flapping wings beating at his arms. His sleeves stopped the beak from doing much damage, and Anders quickly clambered up off his bed, heading toward the slim window.

"Hold still, you bugger, I'm trying to set you free." It hissed at him, feathers fluffing up indignantly, and a strange texture caught the bottom of his palm when it kicked him. Anders paused, lifting it up to investigate.

There, tied around its skinny leg was a thin roll of dark brown paper, half obscured by feathers.

Huh.

He sat down on the edge of his bed again, letting the crow perch on his knee. He accepted the nip of vengeance, surprised that it still let him fumble with its leg after all that. He finally pried the paper off, and the crow immediately flapped up toward the window, landing only for a moment to bark out a reproachful chatter of nonsensical syllables before wiggling back out and flapping off into the open sky.

Anders paid it no mind, carefully peeling the paper open to try to read what looked like a mess of scribbles. He squinted at it, turning it to the light. His heart began to fall when he realized he couldn't understand a word of it, but a moment of inspiration had him turn it around. Upside-down, of course he couldn't read it.

The words were still slanted strangely and jagged like the writer wasn't entirely confident with their letters, but readable.

"Where Halla Healed, Tonight, Help Run."

"Am I helping you run away, or are you helping me?" He murmured, smoothing his thumb over the letters. It was pretty straightforward, though. If he arrived where he'd healed the deer then someone…. His heart wrenched as realization bloomed. An elf. An elf saw him, and offered aid.

Or, y'know, a random Ferelden person wandering in the spooky forest at nightfall happened to have a trained messenger crow AND was a mage-sympathiser willing to work around the Templar order. Anders carefully rolled the paper up again, slipping it into his pocket.

So either an ancient race thought to be nearly extinct saw him heal their deer and wanted to help, Or a rather long-winded series of coincidences happened to favor him. Which was more likely?

He leaned back on his bed, staring at the sky through his window and folded his fingers over his stomach.

Tonight. The offer was for tonight. His back still ached, and he'd used his only passage to the docks for last night's attempt. Used up all his favors. His careful store of travel food was gone, and his staff was still confiscated somewhere in the Templar barracks.

But… there was someone waiting for him, out there. Someone who would have his back. He just had to meet them halfway.

Anders didn't dwell too much on pondering why an elf would go this far out of their way to help him, caught up on planning how to get out of the tower that evening. He ate dinner with the other Apprentices, ignored Micoli's worried questions as his mind raced and turned over his options.

Evening fell, and Anders pretended to go to sleep as his bunk mates fell in, enduring the nightly count without complaint, ignoring the playful jibes of Apprentices who didn't have a shred of faith in his attempts to escape.

Tonight. Tonight it would work.

He listened to the changing of the guard, to his fellows falling asleep. To the soft tolling of the bell that said everyone was accounted for. It had to work.

Anders rolled out of bed, stuffing his pillow and his extra robes under his blankets. He hesitated over the embroidered pillow, a small decorative thing his mother had made. The only thing he'd been allowed to bring from his life outside, into the Circle.

Gently, he tucked it under the blankets as well, and the slow exhale that left him was equal parts melancholy and determination.

It was easy enough to sneak around at night - they weren't banned from wandering per se, but the noisy bells and shuffle of the day made sleeping through it rather troublesome, so not many chose to reverse their sleeping habits.

The only Templar who asked what he was up to just accepted the "couldn't sleep" excuse, and let him walk peacefully away. Probably helped that he had a magelight over his shoulder - sneaking was a lot easier when you didn't have to look sneaky to do it.

He meandered about, saying hello to a few night owls, generally getting ignored for his trouble before heading toward the study room he'd met the crow in. As he expected, the iron bars melted under the force of a determined mage. His strength without a focus wasn't the best, but that's what Spirits were for. Hope answered his plea readily enough, trilling delight in his breast as the metal warped and cooled enough for him to tie the corner of his robe to it. He slithered out and used his robe to shimmy down enough to drop safely to the rocky base of the tower.

Without the thick fabric keeping him warm, the lake's misty chill instantly set goosebumps on his arms and legs. Anders shivered, looking around warily as he slunk down the slimy rocks, considering the dark water for just a moment. Glancing across the water to the far shore, he mentally calculated how far it would probably take to swim. No more than an hour or two… maybe three. That wasn't too bad?

Right?

As soon as he kicked off his boots and sank his feet into the water, he reevaluated that assessment.

This was going to suck so hard.

Anders gasped every inch he sank into the frigid water, cursing and praying under his breath that he'd get used to the temperature.

About ten minutes into his swim, he realized - no, he wasn't getting used to it. In fact, his skin was starting to go numb. Delightful.

Still, he forged on, glad that he hadn't tried to swim in heavy robes or boots that would fill with water and drag him down. It was hard enough staying afloat in his shirt and breeches. His breath hissed out in faint foggy mists, fingers scooping at the water in what seemed like a never-ending journey. A few times, he stopped to float, turning up on his back to look at the stars as he regained his breath and tried to regain a bit of strength. The night air was so cold, and the water below was even colder. Even so, it was… almost peaceful to stare up at the bright river of stars flowing across the sky. Feeling his own frantic heartbeat in his ears and the near-painful trembling that shuddered through his muscles as his body tried to keep him warm.

When Anders did finally reach shore, he was bone tired, bone cold, and gravity seemed to want to grind his face into the mud. He couldn't even drag himself fully onto land, arms shaking with the strain of it, extremities feeling like useless clubs for how little he could feel his fingers and toes. Still, he made it.

He made it.

After a few minutes of laying in the mud, Anders managed to drag himself up onto the grassier part of the shore, relishing the spongy turf and solid earth beneath him.

He never wanted to swim again.

He pulled his collar a bit straighter, shivering desperately as the cold night air hit his wet clothes and sucked even more heat from him. It was all he could do to stagger upright, limping unsteadily toward the forest's edge. He made it past the first tree before his legs finally gave out, and he crumpled in a heap in a patch of yarrow flowers, stiff stems poking his cheek uncomfortably.

The shivering stopped gradually, and his body felt almost warm.

That was… that was bad, wasn't it…? His thoughts felt sluggish.

Just before the black at the edges of his vision swam in, he felt the warm whuff of a breath on his cheek, and a glimpse of a cloven hoof under white fur, sinking into the turf beside him.