For what seemed like years I walked the plains of Ferelden. I was on the road to Denerim, but I had no idea how far I was from it, or even if I was walking the right direction. Nar was gone. So was Shik. So was everyone. The trail was barren, broken, and quiet. I couldn't hear my footsteps, even; it was like all that was once alive was stripped away on the path.
Trees once littered this path, I remembered, but I do not know how. I had begun on that carriage, and yet, I had earned the knowledge of a lifetime after its destruction. I pondered this as I walked, trying to stave off the nothingness. It did not work, and I only felt more alone.
Night fell, and my legs began to falter. I fell, in the middle of the road, with no help anywhere. After several minutes of struggling to maintain a will to survive, I heard the voices of wolves. No matter my desire to end the endless journey, I did not want to die by the jaws of beasts. I had no defense, and I was scared.
I saw three of them, pacing, eyes burning with a cold, yellow flame. Each looked haggard, hungry. Their leader looked the worst of all of them, ribs poking through patches of exposed skin. These wolves were not normal. The Alpha would have been fed first. This one left the meat to his kin.
I sort of respected them, even as they chose me to die. They sniffed at each other, asking for a battle plan, or so it looked. The two followers were eager to begin ripping me apart, but the leader was hesitant. He walked with a limp, and spoke with a lisp. A talking wolf was the first sign that I was special.
"Why are you in my forest?" I assume this place was a forest. It looked more like a plain struck by war.
"I'm travelling to Denerim, I hope."
"That doesn't bode well for you. Not in the slightest. Are you injured?"
"I haven't eaten in what feels like weeks. My legs cannot support me."
"I want you dead, traveller. I want you to feed my pack. But you are as hungry as we are. We have no use for bones. Mallix, carry her to the Dead Stone. Let nothing harm her. Give her a fair chance."
One of the wolves started changing. I heard a crack, and snapping, but saw nothing clear in the dark. Only the silhouette told me that he had shifted form. With a gnarled, skinny hand, he lifted me, straight up into the air, and as if I were a bag of refuse, held me far from his body, with seemingly no effort.
I did not touch even a branch, in what was called a "forest". I was extremely uncomfortable, given his rough grip on my arm, but I was too famished to try to resist.
"You are shapeshifters?"
"Yes."
"Can you only be wolves?"
"We can be many creatures. Wolves just bring home more food."
"Are you Chasind?"
"Don't insult me."
"Then what are you?"
"Elves. In a forest. What more is there to say?"
After a short distance, we came to a large boulder, covered in moss and plant life. It was taller than two Humans standing on each others' shoulders, but could be climbed with the vines dangling over its sides. Mallix clambered up the stone easily, and placed me on its surprisingly soft peak. I wanted to thank him, but the minute I touched the rock, I fell into an uneasy sleep.