Being put on guard duty was not what Arvaarad had expected he'd be doing when he got back to the compound. Two weeks of trudging through Tal'Vashoth infested coast lines, fighting off wild dogs and dragging his Saarebas along for the ride, had left him beyond spent. His feet hurt, his back ached, and he swore that the plant his Saarebas had given him to cover his scent had also given him a rash.

Everywhere.

So when they had informed him, not fifteen minutes after he had arrived back at the compound, that he had guard duty, he was so dumbfounded he couldn't even think adequate swear words.

He'd sputtered out an irritated why before he could stop himself, exhaustion overpowering his discipline for a moment. Luckily his commanding officer had only shrugged without reprimand, saying simply: "Ask the gate guard."

Humph!

Ask the gate guard!

He'd ask the gate guard!

He'd ask the gate guard for a spar and then wipe the floor with him.

After his rash healed of course.

He dropped his Saarebas off with his Karataam (the smug bastard) and dragged himself over to the gate. He was surprised at who stood there, though by all accounts he shouldn't have been.

The Karashok at the gate was one of the older sentries, and was well known for his hard eyes and foreboding demeanor. Even among his own kind he was near unapproachable.

Which made him perfect for his job. Once again the Qun is proven correct.

Arvaarad sighed inwardly, deciding that taking out his anger on this particular Qunari would be detrimental to his health.

"Shanedan, Karashok." Arvaarad said as he approached. The guard glanced at him, before quickly turning his attention back to the road and area surrounding it.

"Arvaarad." He answered curtly.

Arvaarad stiffened.

Something was wrong.

Karashok wouldn't have answered so otherwise.

"What is it?" The Karashok shifted.

"A presence. Eyes watching. Unseen."

Arvaarad relaxed, letting out a quick breath.

"There are always eyes watching."

Karashok's eyes flickered to his.

"These are different."

Arvaarad nodded, understanding that even if it was a fluke, it was better to be safe than sorry. It was still a pain in the ass though. He walked down the steps, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall opposite the banner. He was half way through a day dream about having a bath when he felt it. He had to force himself to remain in his casual position, even as his muscles tensed and adrenaline soared through his body.

He glanced over at the Karashok, who nodded knowingly. Then he calmly reached down and tightened his bracers, shifting his stance so that he was standing upright. His legs parted and he let his arms hang loosely at his sides.

Someone was watching.

It had been over two hours and still, there was nothing but the sensation of being watched. He had thought he had heard something earlier on, but with the traffic and noise the humans made as they went about their business, he couldn't be sure. His nose was no help either; the smell of rot and sea over powered everything else.

The tension swimming in the air around the two Qunari was almost visible.

Even workers passing by shied away or, more often than not, stopped all together and went back they way they had come.

It wasn't that the stare was malevolent or angry. It didn't feel like that.

It was…intent.

Inquisitive, questioning and interested.

Too interested.

It was driving the Arvaarad mad.

He flexed his arms, resisting the urge to reach up and grab his broad sword. He looked at the Karashok from the corner of his eye, his respect for him growing. For him to stand there, under constant scrutiny, for hours… no wonder he had finally cracked and called for assistance.

The Arvaarad scowled in frustration, letting the emotion show on his face. The few passerbies quickly scurried away.

What really pissed him off, besides being tired, hungry and covered by a wicked rash, was that he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. It was noon and the sun was at its zenith, shedding its wretched heat everywhere. The dockworkers and thugs had long since left, leaving the Docks deserted. And still, there was no sign of the infernal spy!

He could feel the sweat from under his helmet run down the back of his neck and into his hair. If he wasn't so angry with the world right now, he would be miserable.

Damn sun! Damn spy! Damn guard duty! Damn Saarebas with his "Special Herb"! Damn…

He felt a tug on his pants and if it weren't for years of training and restraint, the imekari that had just appeared out of thin air, would have had its neck snapped. As it was, Arvaarad's hand twitched towards it, halting only when his instincts screamed at him to stop. He forced his tight muscles to relax, and looked down.

She (though how he knew it was female under all that dirt and grime was anyone's guess) was a tiny thing, whose head barely reached his hips. Her skinny arms folded behind her back and her small legs carried an equally small body. She was hopping from foot to foot, tiny ankles looking like they would break with the smallest pressure.

She reminded him of the small birds that used to nest outside his dormitory window as a child.

The girl shifted and he drew his eyes up to her face. It was tiny, like the rest of her, with pouting lips, a stubborn chin and a little pointed nose. She had short hair, the dirt covered strands chopped hazardously, almost as if with a blunt knife.

If everything else about her was tiny, then her eyes were the exception.

Her wide eyes, the color of snow and nearly as bright, were piercing in their intensity. They were patient, hopeful, and waiting…with a start, the Arvaarad realized that she had been talking.

He frantically scrambled over the last few moments in his mind, appalled that that he could be so thoroughly distracted by this tiny imekari. He frowned, puzzled as he repeated her question.

Why are you blue?

Was she asking about his feelings or about his ski-

Oh Vashedan! Was the rash really so bad that a child would comment on it? He discreetly checked his arms and sighed inwardly in relief at their condition.

He wasn't that bad.

Yet.

Then he felt it again and he tensed. The feeling of being watched intensified. He straitened, not realizing that he had leaned over to get a better look at the child. He looked about him intently, stretching his awareness to its limits.

Nothing.

The only ones here where himself, the Karashok and… the girl-child.

He felt a tug on his pants again and glanced down, irritated.

So it startled him (just a little) to see the intensity he had been feeling moments ago in the eyes of the child. Her eyes, narrowed and sparkling calculatingly, cut through him.

He swallowed.

And then the moment was over and the imekari once again radiated innocent curiosity.

"Messere Demon? Aren't you going to answer my question?"

She smiled brightly, waiting for his answer.

Was it just him, or were her canines just a bit too sharp? By the Qun, he needed to sleep! Now he is imagining human children with sharp teeth asking after his rash. What's next?

He growled lowly in his throat, distantly noticing that she flinched.

"I was born this way, Hissra."

He walked quickly up the stairs, sending a parting "Panahedan" the Karashok's way before heading to the barracks to make his report.

Maybe he would wake up tomorrow and this would all be a dream.

Saarebas: A "dangerous thing," the Qunari word and title for mages.

Tal- Vashoth: "True Gray Ones." Those Vashoth that become violent, mostly former Qunari soldiers.

Shanedan: Literally, "I'll hear you." A respectful greeting.

Imekari: A child.

Vashedan: Crap (literally "refuse" or "trash").

Hissra:"Illusion"; often used to refer to deities.

Panahedan: "Goodbye".

Karashok: Infantry private. In DragonAge 2 - a melee Qunari warrior.

Athlok: Worker