Leliana
"Maker." Salem slumped against the wall of the cavern. "Everyone, take a moment. Rest."
Our breath showed in the frigid air. The cultists seemed to be endless, with mages, berserkers, assassins and their various unholy methods of taking lives. I looked down at my hands. The nails were torn and bloody, my fingers shaking with cold. I was certain Zevran's looked the same.
The traps had been difficult to disarm, though not skillfully laid. In that, we were fortunate. No one had been caught. Yet. I felt our luck would run out soon.
"Is there a drop of water left among our reserves?" Morrigan's beleaguered voice wafted through the tunnels.
I pushed off of the wall and went to her, detaching my canteen from my belt. "Here." I handed it to the witch. "Are you all right?"
"Bloody reavers." her reply lacked its normal acid tones. "The ignoble brute caught the side of my face with the spike of his gauntlet. I am not well-pleased."
I tilted her head to the scant light, examining the scratches across her cheek. They were quite deep, but Wynne's magic was best utilized for battle at the moment. I pulled a handkerchief from my sleeve and lifted a handful of snow from the floor, wrapping the cloth square around it. I pressed it to Morrigan's cheek.
"That should take away some of the sting." I said, watching the fine silk forever ruined by the witch's blood. "And help stop the bleeding."
Her amber eyes glowered at me, filled with mistrust. After all this time, she still expected a knife in the back from every single one of us, save perhaps Salem. "I suppose I should...say something." she mumbled.
"Do not overtax yourself." I offered her the chance to escape her inability to be civil.
She returned my canteen with a catty sneer. "Thank you, songstress." the words were ice against her teeth, but I accepted them with a smile.
"You are welcome, Morrigan." I countered her chill with my warmth, hoping to smooth out some of the unresolved issues between us.
At least we have battle to bring us together. I reasoned. If ever our unity should fray to the point that it did that day, the need to draw swords will dimish it once more. But, when does this end? When do we get out of these damnable tunnels?
"Is everybody all right?" Salem asked.
"Bloody ducky." Oghren reached into his boot and pulled out a flask, taking a long swig of whatever foul concoction he had in there.
Wynne approached me, examining small scorch marks in her robes. "Nasty things, dragonlings." she said. "But other than that, minor injuries. Nothing insurmountable."
"I believe it will only get worse from here." Zevran slid against the wall to the ground. He rubbed snow on his hands, attempting to clean the small nicks and cuts left by the trap's disarming mechanisms.
"I hate to agree, but the elf has sound reasoning." Morrigan nodded her assent.
Burrow yipped in agreement.
"We'll rest a few moments more." Salem nodded. "But we have to keep moving. I want these cultists wiped from the face of the earth. Leliana, I need you for a moment."
I walked to her, hoping that she was all right. She stood in the shadows, but I could see the clench in her jaw and the pallor of her face. The pauldron on her left shoulder was badly dented.
"What is it, love?" I asked.
"That last skirmish, bloody axe-haft caught my shoulder." she grimaced. "I think it might be dislocated. I...I can't move my arm."
You...you told me. I did not know why those were the first thoughts that entered my mind. You are keeping your promise. I infinitely prefer this to wondering after your health. I can only imagine how difficult this is for you, my warrior. I pray I can convey how much this means to me.
"Maker's breath." I moved my fingers to the straps of her armor, wincing as the leather roughed my already abused skin.
"Don't." she reached up and grasped my wrist. "I can smell the blood on your hands. You needn't hurt yourself more."
"I am all right." I assured her. "But your armor is badly damaged. If the metal was pierced, if might but cutting into your skin. As you said, we must keep moving. We cannot do that without you."
"Very well." she inhaled deep and leaned back against the wall.
I continued working the straps, prying the damaged metal from her body. Her shirt had been torn; the skin beneath it was mottled purple and black. She must be in a great deal of pain.
"Can you move your fingers, love?" I asked.
She curled her hand into a fist and winced. I breathed a sigh of relief. "I do not think it is broken, but dislocated, as you said." I pulled off my leather bracer. "Bite down on this."
My warden fixed it between her teeth, obliging me. I grasped her shoulder and braced myself. "Take a deep breath."
She obeyed.
With a jarring, sickening crunch, the joint snapped back into place. Salem pitched forward into my arms, the bracer falling from her lips as she groaned.
"Forgive me." I whispered, knowing how painful it was to re-align a joint. "I love you, Salem."
"Bless you." she whispered, gathering her composure. She rolled her shoulder, adjusting to the discomfort.
"Are you still able to fight?" I questioned, knowing already what the answer would be.
"Of course." she flashed a wicked smile. "After all, I just received the best care Thedas has to offer."
I blushed a little at the compliment, as sporadically given as her physical affection in ill-timed moments.
"Are you all right?" she asked, the rough leather of her gauntlet pressed against my cheek.
"I am fine." As long as you are near, I will always be all right. "How is your side, love?"
"I still cannot feel it." she tucked her hair behind her ears. "I do not know if I have taken any damage there or not."
Worried, I stepped closer and wrapped my arm about her. So you could be bleeding internally, or suffering from broken bones and you would not know. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
"Do you..."
"No." she was firm. "I'm still standing and able to fight. I refuse to jeopardize this. Come." her tone became that of the commander. "We press on."
A cavern lay before us, hopefully the one that would lead us to the end. The others had been dead ends filled with enemies. We were all nearing exhaustion. Another skirmish might see us in dire straits. But I trusted Salem. So, without hesitation, I followed.