Panting, each Grey Warden's legs clung to the saddle of their horse, sore from the repetitive impact. The trees blurred together and the sound of swift hooves stomping on dirt and dead leaves blended to a steady roar around them, pushing them all onward despite the cold. Earth, dampened by melted frost, kicked up and caked on their boots and their horses sped through thickening forest, dense with barren trees; the absence of foliage gave truth to the harsh and frigid temperature as they skirted the edges of Emprise du Lion.
Nathaniel Howe led the stampede of Grey Wardens as they raced the fall of night. The Wardens were driven to cover as much distance as possible before the denseness of trees would prevent their ability to navigate in the dark and ultimately to escape the icy climate of the Emprise. At the last viable moment, when each rider could only see as far ahead as the horse in front of them, Nathaniel lifted his arm to halt the band. Riders mimicked the motion in succession so that they ceased movement with fluidity, the wave of hooves' vibrations ebbed into the silence that reverberated around them. Their breath was audible and seemed to echo through the surrounding forest.
"Here," Nathaniel said firmly. The first of their party willing to break the eerie stillness. They had stopped at a clearing, a gap in the trees with enough room for their tents to fit within a relative proximity to each other with a campfire in the middle. Self-directed and eager for warmth, the Wardens dismounted their horses and set up their camp in the darkness. Nathaniel pulled a blonde Elven man to the side as they worked.
"Scout the area for threats. Then find the highest point and look west. I want to know how far we are from the Graves. Take someone with you." Nathaniel gave orders to the archer. Hale watched in detached observance, curious of the interaction. Isenam was to be their guide through the Arbor Wilds, Hale remembered. Though he was now frowning, she noticed the wrinkles around his eyes indicating frequent laughter.
Isenam nodded to Nathaniel and grabbed his bow. "Val!" He barked the Dwarf's nickname, startling Valum from where he secured the post of a tent into the earth. Isenam followed the call with a whistle and an arm gesture for Val to join him. The two secured their weapons and set forth from their camp to survey. Through laughter at the Dwarf's expense, the Elven man patted the Dwarf on the back while they walked.
Between the nine remaining members, the encampment was quickly erected and a campfire lit. Unlike the previous night, the Wardens crowded together around the crackling heat. The intensity of cold hit them suddenly as the exertion from riding and setting the camp had ceased. Even Hale did not isolate herself, joining the group around the fire with the same desperation as the rest. Nathaniel stood slightly removed, looking over his shoulder for the return of Isenam and Valum.
"So…" Hale chimed in as they held their gloved hands over the campfire. "Fuck this shite."
The group turned to her with surprised, questioning glances; one eyebrow raised inquisitively, Nathaniel's sight shifted to Hale, his arms crossed with authority. Her long, assertive strides exuded confidence as she smugly drifted from the seven other Wardens standing directly around the fire back to her horse, tied near some tents. She was all too comfortable- as if the forest was her home, and her Warden brethren had come for a visit. A moment later, she returned with a drum. It had a single flat, circular surface and the wood sides angled inward before flaring back out. She casually flipped it over, holding the weight of the drum in one hand, and pulled a flask from the body. Delicately, she set the drum down in front of her feet. "Let's warm things up, yeah?" She said with a grin, bowing her head behind her flask and taking a sip. She hissed after she swallowed, her grin remaining as she offered the flask to the person to her left.
The Wardens were stunned. Some peeked over their shoulders to Nathaniel to see his reaction. His face remained ambivalent, and he did not intervene. There was nothing that said Grey Wardens were not permitted to drink during their quests, but typically they waited for permission from their acting leader, after duties were assigned. Since Nathaniel did not seem opposed, the next person in the circle shrugged and took the flask. She took a sip and coughed.
"Maker's beard, Hale. What is this?" She asked through coughs.
Hale laughed. "Qunari shite. Can't pronounce it." She surveyed the human mischievously, wondering what her reaction would be. "Warmer now though, aren't ya hun? That shite hits the spot."
The woman's eyebrow raised at Hale and she spoke firmly. "It's Damia, and yes. Thanks… I think." She lifted the flask and nodded in skeptical gratitude to Hale before passing the drink to the next person who sipped with a similar reaction.
Time passed as the flask slowly went around the circle and the group grew more comfortable, despite the frigid temperatures. Hale found a log for herself and pushed it towards the fire. The Wardens, including Damia, talked amongst themselves, laughter occasionally floating through the air. She sat down and pulled the drum to her, strumming her fingers on the taut surface. Growing bored, Hale glanced over her shoulder to Nathaniel as Isenam and Valum returned to him, giving him an update on their location and any risks. Listening as well as she could, she heard that they were safe. She took that as a cue.
"Lieutenant!" She yelled to grab his attention. "Fucking sit down and join us!"
Nathaniel smiled back. It was a charming grin, but she sensed something twisted within it. "No," he replied through his smirk.
He offered no explanation to his answer. Noticing some subtle similarities between Hale and Caoilainn, Nathaniel sarcastically thought to himself, This is exactly what I need. Another bossy woman in my life.
Her eyes narrowed to a squint and Nathaniel saw the frustration in her glance. The young Elf so eagerly wanted him to join her. And under other circumstances he would, but for tonight he was dutiful in his work and that included keeping his distance. The light of the fire danced on her face as she glared at him from a few paces away.
"Oh, come on! Warm up and have some fun."
"Someone has to stand watch, Hale," he replied resolutely. As he spoke, Isenam and Valum joined the circle and took the flask still wandering through the group. Though the flushed cheeks of those who had multiple sips of the alcohol were not visible by the campfire, the early signs of slurred speech and swayed movements were plain. The rest of the group found their own logs to push near the fire and sit.
"Fine," she replied curtly, her tone stubborn. "We'll have fun without you." She turned to Damia sitting next to her, laughing lightly, visibly intoxicated. "Hun," Hale called. Damia looked over her shoulder to Hale and squinted, playfully scolding Hale with her eyes for using the nickname. Hale curled her finger to bring Damia closer. Leaning over to Hale, Damia giggled loudly as Hale whispered something in her ear, then she nodded.
Nathaniel remained observant, but his suspicion of Hale grew as he followed the interaction. Before he had a chance to interrupt what he thought he saw, Hale beat her drum once then strummed her fingers loudly on the surface. With another beat, Damia stood. Hale beat again, and again. Then at once, she struck the surface in different locations in rapid succession, creating unique vibrations and notes to the music. It was quick, the beat alluring and provocative. Damia's hips swayed as she understood the beat; she pulled up another friend to dance with her. Hale's grin widened, and she made a high-pitched cry led by a loud roll of her tongue and an upward inflection. The other Wardens cried out, a few of the elves answering the unique call she made with their own. Soon, most of the Wardens were dancing to Hale's drumming, the others pleased with observing, and the flask still making its way around. Victoriously, Hale looked over to Nathaniel.
He was watching the activity around the campfire with mild awe. This was an experience as Lieutenant that he could safely say he never had, nor ever expected to. Under other circumstances, he would shut this party down, but Isenam and Val had reported no activity, not even animal, in the vicinity. His curiosity about the young Elven woman was magnified by her behavior. She was quite talented as a drummer, and even more so at lightening a mood. This is the Warden that started a brawl at Vigil's Keep? He pondered.
The group didn't seem to notice Hale's drumming gradually fade. Those dancing were now sweating in the cold, the energy effortlessly shifting to laughter and jovial conversation. Nathaniel's glance shifted to Hale when she finished her song. Genuinely impressed with the festivities she had livened, and still wary to stay away from her, he gave Hale a salute.
And as though that were a message, Hale rose from her spot by the fire and walked to him, her drum in one hand. The crackling fire behind her prevented him from reading her expression, but the attractive motion of her hips was undeniable. He suspected she was smiling as she neared. Ever so slightly intimidated by the girl, unsure of what she was about to do, he shifted on his feet. Eyes remained locked, tension building with each slow step she took, until she walked right past him to her tent. Puzzled, he followed her with his eyes as she entered her tent with her drum. A moment later emerged with her quiver and bow instead.
"Good time for a hunt," she said through a smirk as she walked toward him. Then she lightly jogged away from the encampment.
"Wait!" Nathaniel yelled after her as Hale darted off. He glanced at the group by the fire and determined them safe before he rolled his eyes and followed her. Stupid girl. This is not the time or place for a fucking hunt. But concern and duty called him to follow. She was his charge, and he made a commitment to both his Commander and the Inquisitor to keep her safe.
Eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the outlines of trees, and at least a few yards ahead of him. He followed her footsteps, tuning into his senses for the light shifting of leaves, the soft thuds of her boots landing on softened dirt, any sign that she was near. Then suddenly, the sounds ceased. He stopped in a small clearing when he no longer heard her, met with immediate quiet. The activity of the encampment just barely audible in the distance. Damn. I took the fucking bait. "Hale?" He whispered loudly, recognizing that this was some ploy by the girl.
Then he heard a thump behind him. Acting only on reflexes, he swiftly turned around a lifted his hand in defense. Hale's eyes widened in fear before her lips spread to a shit-eating grin. She swallowed. "Yeah?"
Nathaniel lowered his hand quickly and glared viciously. "Fuck Hale. Don't do that. I would hurt killed you."
"But you didn't," she said lightly, crossing her arms as she studied his reaction to her.
"You wandered from the camp without permission," he scolded, just as frustrated with himself for following as with her for wandering off. "You put yourself, the camp and me in danger. I could have you reprimanded."
"But you won't," she quipped.
"But I should," he continued scolding. "We're going back to the camp. This hunt is over."
Slow steps in the darkness with the distant glow of the campfire their target, Hale and Nathaniel walked in an awkward, weighted hush. The tension was palpable; Hale knew she was not in his favor. Delicate, deliberate, and experienced paces carried them carefully through the dense forest.
Then suddenly, Hale tripped. "Dammit!" She yelled as she grabbed Nathaniel in her fall. He caught her and lifted her forcefully. "Thanks, mate," she said with a friendly tone as she attempted to stand free from him, unable because Nathaniel held her by the wrist.
"Give it back," he said in a firm and impatient voice.
"What are you talkin' about?" Hale replied, attempting to play her innocence from any accusations he might be making. She lightly pulled at her wrist in a lazy effort to free herself from his grasp.
"I said," he restated. "Give it back."
With a huff Hale pulled a small sextant from her pocket with her other hand. Head lowered in guilt from being caught, she extended her hand with the gold navigation device resting in her palm. Nathaniel took it from her with his free hand and put it back in his pocket. "And I saw you steal something from Damia earlier too. I suggest you give it back, even better if you do so before she notices. The Grey Wardens are your family now and that won't stop them from teaching you a lesson. You're cunning, hunter, but cunning won't save you from those far more skilled in stealth and combat than you."
Hale groaned and rolled her eyes, her lips full in an angry pout. "Got it," she replied stubbornly, glaring at Nathaniel with her narrow wrist still gripped in his large hand. "Let go."
"No," he stated bluntly, determined to finally uncover the mystery of this difficult young woman. "Not until you tell me what your problem is."
"Fuck sort of question is that?" She asked with irritation, clearly not interested in talking about herself, her hand limp in Nathaniel's bind. Her vitriol conflicted with her lax posture, and Nathaniel could not read her eyes as her messy hair cascaded around her face.
"The kind I'm asking as the officer you report to on this mission." Though his grip didn't loosen, he knew Hale could free herself if she truly wanted. Skilled enough in combat and especially evasion, she would easily know how to remove herself from his grasp, but she didn't. It compelled his intrigue.
"What d'you want to know?" She inquired begrudgingly.
She's like a difficult kid. "Where do you come from?" Nathaniel asked in a serious tone.
He wasn't sure if she was considering her response or passively refusing to answer as a long pause passed between them. The tone of her energy did not match her body language, he noticed as he studied her hostility.
Eventually, she spoke bluntly and spit at the ground. "Go plough yerself."
Lovely, he thought bitterly . Then his head tilted back as his harsh and deep laugh boomed through the quiet. He was not amused. "Insubordination isn't tolerated, Warden. And discharge is an option. Your conscription can be undone. So should you wish to stay out of jail, I'd suggest you follow my orders."
Resentment and sarcasm coated every word that came from her mouth. "I'm Dalish. The Inquisitor is my cousin, but you knew that. Didn't think I needed to tell you again."
Her reply lacked any information of substance. She was deliberately delaying the conversation. But why?
"I'm tiring of this game," he replied in aggravation. He knew that there was more to her story, though the details eluded him, and he wanted her to explain. "You didn't learn how to pickpocket from the Dalish, and you sure as shit didn't get an accent like that from the Lavellan clan." Nathaniel knew enough about the Lavellan from his time in the Free Marches. They were one of the Elven clans most inclined to trade with humans.
"Fine." Hale sighed. "Grew up in the Denerim Alienage." Heavy silence followed her words.
Nathaniel did not push for her to say more. Well, that explains it. He waited patiently until she sullenly continued.
"My da was a trader from the Lavellan clan. He taught me everything 'fore he died. I got stranded there." She stopped for a moment, staring hard at the ground, teeth clenched. She was seething at the details of the recollection she neglected to share. Her gaze traveled up to Nate's, daring him. "Stealing's handy fucking skill for a street rat, ya know? So's hunting. Made decent money selling what I killed."
They stood reticently; shocked at her story, Nathaniel released her wrist. He had no reply and for a moment he regretted pushing the information from her. But an inconsistency interrupted the regret. "When you saw the Inquisitor, you said 'you know I always come back.' How's that if you've been living in the Alienage?" He was highly skeptical of the thief's honesty but his tone remained neutral.
"When I's old enough I left the Alienage to find my clan. But it wasn't home no more. I lived between them, but mostly I just stayed out of both. Forest's more home than some slum fucking street or some traveling elven circus. Then I got conscripted, and I guess I figured I owed it to our Bitch Queen Commander," Hale continued. Nathaniel, grateful for the darkness, stifled a laugh by coughing. "Because she killed the fucks who killed my dad. And now I'm a fucking Grey Warden."
Casually, the young Elf reached into her boot and pulled another flask. As she moved to unscrew the lid, Nathaniel saw the glimmer of the container. "Give me that," he said with exasperation, his tone resounding his disapproval. He took it from her hand and glared before sighing and drinking from the flask himself. He did not return it to her. "I'm sorry about all that happened," he offered, but ultimately had no other words of apology for Hale. "But being a Grey Warden can change your life if you let it. Let's get back," he scolded, motioning for her to keep moving toward the camp and taking another swig from her flask.
"See you're finally willing to have some fun, Lieutenant." As they walked she mocked his earlier decline of joining the festivities she had riled. "Finally realizing yer leash is long enough to let loose?"
"What are you getting at?" Feelings of impatience and annoyance returned toward the young woman.
"Oh, well…" The condescension in her tone was noticeable as she mocked him. "The Bitch Queen Commander. She's got you pretty well trained, don't she?" Nate did not immediately answer. "Come on mate, it's kind of obvious."
She's a Nightmare Demon. Hale's humor disregarded the years of effort he had put into following Caoilainn's rules. The Warden Commander dreaded the idea of her army knowing of their dalliances.
"She's my Commander," he explained, glad she couldn't see his slightly reddening face as they walked. "No, I don't have to explain anything to you. And I'll add a warning: insulting the Warden Commander is also insubordination."
"'Course it is," she nodded her head in sarcastic solemnity, then her tone shifted. "Care to reprimand me this time , Lieutenant? I'm sure you got some clever ways."
"What are you-" he started as his disapproval heightened, but stopped midsentence as he realized the suggestive nature of her tone. She was watching for his reaction with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to respond. He gave a short laugh and cut the line of conversation off. "Hah. No. Nope. We're still on a mission and you and I are not going there."
Did I just say that? Typically he was unopposed to advances from women, but he had been playing this game long enough to know when a woman was not worth the consequences, no matter how outstanding she might be in bed. This was one of those times and this young hunter was far too wild for his taste. Not to mention, the threats he had received from Caoilainn and the Inquisitor compounded the lack of interest in the risk. But he could not deny the magnetism of his curiosity about her and so far that kept him from following through with threats of reprimand or discharge. This girl's playing with fire.
"Oh, come on," she teased. "Aren't you the type to prey on young Wardens, Lieutenant?" Her question danced around Nathaniel's suspected transgressions with intrigue; the eagerness in her voice was tangible.
He gave the same charming smile as before. I'm not taking the bait this time. "I might be," he admitted nonchalantly. "But I'm not the one preying here, huntress."
Silence heavily filled the pause between them. When Hale replied, her grin was audible, her tone flirty and tempting. "But Lieutenant, yer girlfriend's not here. You can do what-"
Despite the buzz of the strong alcohol, Nathaniel's agility was not diminished. The sound of shuffling dead leaves, Hale's gasp, followed by a soft thud, concluded with Nathaniel backing Hale to a tree. He didn't touch her, aware the proximity of this interaction contradicted his professionalism. It's difficult to remain professional with this girl. They were still out of earshot from the camp though the activity from around the campfire was discernable. "I mean it, Hale." He said darkly, clearly vexed. "You're treading on thin ice."
She flashed her teeth in a sultry half snarl, half smile. He could feel her breath against him. The clouds of air leaving their mouths in small puffs was visible in the cold. "It's good I'm light on my feet then." Her voice was low, testing, and unafraid.
They stayed like this for many slow, stretched seconds, glaring at each other, neither willing to succumb. Her weight was shifted to one leg, a defensive posture. So use it. React. Yet, Nate noticed again that she did not push closer to him. She had several points from this position that she could overpower him but she didn't. Instead, she stayed passively pinned.
"Fine. Promise, Lieutenant. I'll be on my best behavior," Hale caved first and Nathaniel released her.
"Good," he replied shortly, certain that her words were meaningless, if only because he had prevaricated the same commitment to Caoilainn time and time again. The pair walked back to the camp.