I had some extra time this Memorial weekend. All it did was rain. Hopefully this chapter wasn't too choppy. It might need some rewrite. Hard to say right now. It took alot out of me.

Thank you to everyone that has followed my story. It's exciting to see that people are interested. I gives me the willpower to write on. I just want you to know that I appreciate you and know that your time is valuable.

Respectfully, Galesong

Chapter 7

Cannibals Come in Small Sizes

I cracked open the door and looked around the corner. There was no one there to greet us. I was expecting the sentry at the very least. I gingerly stepped over the threshold and out into the cold to where Zev and Alistair awaited. The door creaked ominously behind me. I looked over at Sten, "You didn't?"

The giant brushed the crumbs from his face and dusted off his hands as he strode passed me, "I suggest we find this dead woman. We have an archdemon to kill."

The door slammed shut behind the qunari; its bang, I'm sure, could be heard for miles around. I threw up my hands in frustration, "Do you mind?" Sten retrieved a cookie from his pack and dropped it into my hand, "That's not what I was talking about," I frowned.

I followed after Sten to where Zev and Alistair stood. My steps were two for his every one. Upon my approach, the assassin and warden both clamped their mouth shut refusing to finish what had been lost mid-sentence. Alistair's arms were folded across his broad chest as he stared down at the elf dispassionately. The assassin glowered up at the warden measure for measure. I regarded them both angrily then pushed past them. Sten brought up the rear following closely behind.

We traveled up the hill to find more civilization. A village boy stared at us from dead hollowed eyes, "Come, come Bonnie Lynne. Tell us, tell us where you've been. Were you up? Were you down? Chasing rabbits around the town…"

Another young girl with the same dead eyes met us at the top of the hill, "Dear, dear Bonnie Lynne, sleep the peaceful crypt within…"

I was captivated by their haunting chant. There dead eyes never left mine as I passed them. A sudden chill ran through me. I shivered in response. It felt evil. It felt right as if it belonged.

We entered the shop. There was nothing unusual about this shop. Its wears were displayed across the wall: swords, daggers, food stuff and such. It was normal. Just like any other shop I have ever entered except for the smell. It was a smell I knew well. I was associated with it personally. A firsthand knowledge I had learned to accept over the past year. It stung my eyes and made me want to vomit. It was death.

"Who are you," the shop keeper questioned, "You're not from Haven."

"Why does everyone tell me that," I questioned warily, "Like I don't know already?"

"We don't get very many visitors," the shopkeeper replied.

I looked about the room, "Zev, will you please take care of the details?"

"You can't go baaa…," the shop keeper gurgled. I turned quickly to see Zevran slide his dagger across the man's neck. Blood gushed down his chest. Its bright red streams reminded me of a waterfall.

I closed my eyes to the revulsion and turned to seek out the adjoining room, "That's not what I meant."

"I'm an assassin. What were you expecting," Zevran questioned.

"A distraction," I answered back.

"Now you have one, my lovely grey warden, no?" declared Zevran.

"Stop saying that!" I rounded the corner. The adjoining room contained many bookshelves filled with books, stacks of cloth and trunks filled with treasures. A glint of silver caught my eye. The glint was none other than a pile of discarded armor. I walked up to it to investigate. It was from Redcliffe. I recognized the seal. I bent down to retrieve the helmet. It was heavy. I lifted the face guard, "It's not empty," I exclaimed. I dropped the head. It rolled away.

"They're gone," I screamed as I ran away from the morbid scene. Alistair caught and held me by the shoulders, "They took the arms and legs." I panted, "They left the rest!"

"Are you sure," Alistair questioned as he regarded me for a moment.

"We have company," Zevran yelled. I pulled away from Alistair and ran towards the entrance.

I peeked through the door, "There's a whole town out there!"

"Where did they come from," questioned Alistair.

"From the forest? The buildings? I don't know?" I slammed the door shut and leaned against it as I tried to summon my breath.

"They're nothing but children. Maybe some elderly," Alistair shouted above the humming a he looked through a window.

"That can't be," I questioned as the humming was getting louder.

"Positive," Alistair shot back.

I strained to hear what they were saying, "Dear, dear Bonnie Lynne. Sleep the peaceful crypt within. A mossy stone, a finger bone…no one knows but me alone."

"We are armed to the teeth. Surely they won't attack?" I tried to tell myself, "Besides we can't wait in here all day."

We gathered our gear and stepped outside. Alistair was right. I didn't want to admit it. They poured out of the trees and buildings, some held rocks. A few woman along with some elderly carried pitch forks. They steadily walked toward us as they repeated the chant, "Come, come Bonnie Lynne. We've a bed to put you in…"

We huddled together, each one protecting the others back. We side-stepped away from the building towards the center of the town, they continued their slow pace towards us. My eyes darted from one face to the other as I studied the townsfolk. They all held that same dead look that I originally saw in the boy. They spoke in one voice, it was monotone. It promised death.

We slowly drew our arms and displayed them in such a matter that the townsfolk understood that we meant business, "Let us pass, we mean you no harm," I shouted. They pressed forward.

Armored men charged down the hill. Alistair bashed the first one three times with his shield before he plunged his sword, hilt deep, into the man's chest. Zevran rolled away to dodge one attack while simultaneously slashing the back of the knees of another attacker. The surprised guard went down and the elf finished him off with a quick stab to the man's exposed neck. Sten raised his broadsword overhead. It arced cleaving a man in two from head to waist.

I turned my attention back the townsfolk. I summoned my magic and put forth rings of purple light. The group to my right, the ones closest, froze in place. The one in front continued their pursuit towards me. I swung my sword in a sweeping motion and they flew back to tumble away. To my left someone threw a rock. It missed. I froze them in place as well.

"I don't want to harm you," I warned them once again.

Somebody broke the line. They leaped onto my back. I felt a sharp pain on the side of my throat. Blood trickled from the wound. I had been bit. I flipped my attacker over my shoulder and plunged my sword into his unprotected chest. "A child," I screamed in disbelief.

I looked down at the boy I had just killed. He couldn't be any older than eleven or twelve. It was the same boy I first saw in the village. I watched as the light left his dead eyes and the blood pooled around his wound. Another villager rushed at me. Her face was alive with anger. She thrust her pitchfork towards my chest. I sidestepped and swung my sword around to decapitate her, more blood pooled around my feet.

I threw back my head, closed my eyes and summoned the elements. I clenched my fists; the ground began to rumble beneath me. I watched as if I floated overhead. The townsfolk tried to maintain their balance. I clapped my hands over head and called forth lightening. It hissed and snapped. I cupped my hands to my face and blew. Icy winds came forth freezing anything in its wake. I was not done; I called forth the last of my fury, fire.

"Enough!" Alistair tackled me to the ground.

I twisted and bucked beneath him. My fists bombarded him, "They're children," I cried into his chest. He held me down until I had no strength left.

I could no longer hear the chanting, only my soft sobs muffled by Alistair's chest. He looked down at me hesitantly while he secured my hands at my side with his own. "Children," I mouthed silently.

Alistair helped me to my feet. I looked about me. Bodies had been flung against walls, others through fences. These bodies were twisted and broken. Others cluttered the ground where they had fallen. I had decimated the town. It was genocide. I regarded Alistair. His face spoke more than words ever could. He was afraid of me.

We journeyed further up the hill to where Chantry was. It stood alone, its tall steeple disappeared in the clouds and falling snow. I entered in with a detached sense of numbness. A priest and a handful of guards were all that remained.

The priest spoke, "We find outsiders disruptive. They bring others and before long, Haven is changed," the guards surrounded us, "We will go to any lengths to prevent that."

I walked up to priest and plunged my sword into his unprotected chest. He looked surprised. I let him slide off my sword to lay dead in his own blood at my feet. Swords flashed and metal rang behind me. It did not take long for the others to dispatch the guards.

Zevran spoke, "Just once I'd like to walk into one of these places and discover a little dance, or a drinking festival, or an orgy. But alas, no."

I continued to stare at the body before me. Blood trickled down my sword like molasses to drip on the dead man. Splat! Splat!

"Warden," someone called. My legs buckled beneath me. Someone caught me.

"You killed him!" the voice said in my head.

Connor stood before me. Blood covered him from head to toe. Other children materialized. They all resembled Connor, "You killed us!" they chanted.

Closer and closer they stepped until they were upon me, "You killed us! You killed us!" they chanted again and again.

"No," I screamed. I covered my ears with my hands.

"You killed us!" they clawed at my swollen stomach until they ripped it open. Blood gushed everywhere. They pulled out two black objects.

They were covered in taint, "You killed us," the babies hissed.

I kicked them away and pelted them with my fists, "No!"

Someone tried to catch my hands, "Chandra, wake up!" I cuffed him across the face, "It's just a dream," they comforted.

Slap! My hand came to the side of my face, "I didn't mean to kill him."

"I know," Alistair soothed. He held me close. I couldn't breath.

"This is your fault," I pushed Alistair away, "I hate you." It was mean. I didn't care. I was mad and Alistair needed to hate me.