"Think this will be enough elfroot?" Beau felt much better about herself and definitely at peace with the world right now. Anders had shown her to a stream where she had proceeded to bathe herself, properly. The poor guy had realized she was about to shed everything she was wearing and excused himself. By the time he had returned, she was as clean as she could be and had even begun setting up camp. Given that they had been out here all day, she had doubted they would make it back in time before the gates were closed for the night. He had found some elfroot but not a lot, so they had gone off again, both more comfortable now that she wasn't stripping.

She had also thoroughly washed her clothing, what little armor she had worn today, and her weapons. Wearing wet clothes had not been high on her list of comfortable things to do but it definitely ranked over blood and guts. She had skipped the armor, instead setting it out to dry under some bushes, praying nothing would disturb it.

While he had been solely interested in gathering, she had been eyeballing for something to eat, besides plants and not the stale, plain bread she had in her pack. She had sort of lucked out by finding a rabbit. She had also felt bad about killing the poor thing, there was hardly any meat on its bones, and it was probably as hungry as she was but she consoled herself with the thought of something to eat besides disgusting bread. So, they had come back to camp with what she thought was a respectable amount of elfroot and a rabbit that might have been enough for a mouthful between them.

Anders was sorting through the plants, wrapping them carefully to be taken back to his clinic. "It'll do for now, but with how fast I seem to go through healing poultices…" Honestly, he doubted these supplies would last a week but there was no point in burdening her with that knowledge. He watched as she gave the tiny pot, she had procured it from her pack, a stir. He idly wondered what else she had in there. "What exactly is it we're having?"

"Uh, on the road stew?"

"Dare I ask?" His cooking skills were non-existent but that didn't prevent him from being picky on occasion.

"I was a soldier," she said flatly, as if it explained everything and ignored his curious stare. When he simply kept staring, Beau sighed. "I served in King Cailan's army, back in Ferelden. When we marched to Ostagar, we had our standard provisions, which were disgusting so we'd grab whatever we could on the go and add it in at the end of the night. On the road stew."

"You were at Ostagar?"

He would have taken that one tidbit. She had never hidden the fact that she had served in the army but she wasn't overly fond of talking about it either. At least, not about Ostagar, it still hurt to think about the events of that night. "Yes…"

Anders took the hint and finished up his task before moving to sit beside her, stretching his hands out to enjoy the fire she had gotten going. "You know, I escaped the circle tower at least seven times."

"Seven times? I would have executed you just for being a pain in my ass."

"I thought they might a few times and perhaps it would have been kinder." He allowed, taking the ladle from her in order to prod the 'stew'. "They stuck me in solitary confinement for a year; I thought I was going mad."

"Why didn't you?" She knew she would have, or possibly committed suicide. Being imprisoned for that long, alone, there was no way.

"Probably because of Mr. Wiggums."

"Mr…. Wiggums?"

"The tower's cat, a mouser."

Anders and the cat thing, she had forgotten about that. "You really like cats, don't you?"

"Cats are honest," he said after a moment. "They either love you, hate you, don't care one way or another or just want to rule the world."

"Rule the world?"

"Some cats have a sense of entitlement. I expect it's because we feed and shelter them. Maybe they think they're gods."

"I'm a dog person myself, less ego involved."

He snorted, moving back when she leaned forward to pull the pot off the fire. "You're Fereldan." The way he said it was as if that one word explained everything.

"So are you."

"Not really, I'm not from Ferelden. I just had the poor misfortune to wind up there."

Beau could sense a story but also heard how his tone of voice had changed, it was definitely less cheerful and she decided a change of topic was in order. Or perhaps they could stop talking and just stuff their faces. "You don't have any diseases, do you?" She asked, procuring the bread from her pack. It was disgusting by itself but when dunked in on the road stew, it became bearable and was more filling. It was also the reason she had asked him that, they were sharing the dunking pot.

He looked like he was torn between amusement and being offended. "What do you think?"

"I think you'd lie regardless," she was teasing of course and passed him half her rations. "Here. Let's eat and sleep. I'm sure Aveline and Varric are going to be upset that I didn't return tonight."

"Speaking of, did you know we would be, ah, camping?" He gestured to her pack, which lay right behind her, within easy reach. "It seems you've managed to put every item you own in there."

He was partially right, and she shifted to eyeball the well-worn, repaired many times over, leather satchel. "It was my father's." She admitted, recalling the many times she had watched him unpack and repack this satchel. "It has sentimental value, obviously, but it's also very practical. Can you guess why?"

"Your father was a mage."

"Yes."

"Is it enchanted?"

She nodded, having stuffed her mouth with bread and stew, smiling at him around the food without slopping it all down her front. At least, she hoped she wasn't. Her mother liked to tell her she had been raised in a barn since none of the table manners Leandra had tried teaching had made an impression. Once she had swallowed down the food, which was probably at least three mouthfuls for a normal person, she would admit she was a pig, she cleared her throat. "I'm not sure what the spell was, or how he managed it, but the satchel holds more than it probably should, without a problem. It's like he enlarged the inside, but it doesn't show."

Anders was impressed, and amused. While he found the idea of this spell to be useful, he could imagine some other mages, and those from the Chantry, crying foul and claiming this was an indulgence and abuse of power. "It is very clever but what about the weight? Surely it can't disguise or lighten that."

"No, it gets heavy. Which is why I only pack what I think I'll need."

"And you thought you'd be camping?"

"I was hoping not but…" She shrugged, finishing off her meal. "Here we are, and I'll trust you'll be very pleased with the extra blanket I brought."

Anders couldn't keep an eyebrow from rising or the corner of his mouth from doing a quick quirk upwards. "Really now? Hawke, I know we haven't known each other for very long but this is quite sudden." He was purring, watching as comprehension dawned slowly on her face, along with a quite comely blush. "It's almost as if you planned this, us alone, under the stars, with-" he began laughing when she sputtered. "I'm teasing! I jest, I swear!" Anders raised his hands up in mock surrender when it looked like she might hit him.

"You are not funny, mage." Beau said after a moment, feeling the heat in her cheeks.

"I apologize, Hawke, I-"

"I don't offer my favor until the second date."

Now he was the one turning red. "Oh… oh my."

Smirking, she turned away from him, reaching for the satchel.

"Bloody hell Carver, what were you thinking?"

"Shove off, Beau, I don't need you coddling me," Carver pushed his sister away from him. What he really didn't need was Isabeau Hawke, leader of a tiny band of rogues -not that they were outwardly called rogues- babying him. Especially in front of their peers. She had signed up as a reserve for the king's army only a year or so after their father's death and had been called on fairly regularly to serve. From his understanding, as a scout most of the time, or to do sneaky, underhanded things that were not mentioned ever. She had been expendable. But since she had kept coming on back and doing the job, she had become somewhat respected. As much as someone like her could be anyway. Just one more thing he had to try to live up too.

"Excuse me for being concerned."

"You're not Mother."

"Be grateful I'm not, she'd kick your arse home," Beau's normally happy, smiling mouth was turned down in a frown as she regarded him. Her eyes, the same shade of green Malcolm's had been, were narrowed. "Next time you decide you're going to run out ahead of the men and get yourself wounded, remember this moment, because it'll happen all over again."

Carver groaned, really wishing she'd go away already. There was nothing quite like being babied and then spoken down to in front of a group of his fellow soldiers. Why oh why had he thought it a good idea to join up with her? When the king had sent word that he was seeking recruits, Carver had immediately volunteered. Mother had had a meltdown and the only way of consoling her, somewhat, was by basically throwing himself underneath his older sister's wing. The very wing he had been trying to get out from under.

Beau simply stared at her brother. "That's what I thought." She said finally, turning and walking away. "You can tend your own damn wounds."

Which was what Carver had wanted in the first place. Sighing, he reached for the bowl of now-cold water and rag she had brought with her, frowning when he realized that the wound needing treating was on his back, where he couldn't reach. "Isabeau?"

She kept walking.

"Beau?"

Anders had a hard time sleeping most nights but tonight's sleep was all but impossible. For one, he was outside and surrounded by who knew what and sleeping next to a woman he only barely knew. When she began muttering in her sleep, giggling, and said a name -and just who was Carver-, he rolled onto his side and stared at her. She was definitely dreaming something pleasant, if the smile on her face were any indication. Shaking his head, he sat up in order to bank the fire, not about to let it die down and invite anymore predators to them than necessary. That and he didn't like the cold; he preferred his feet to stay warm and toasty.

He huddled close to the fire, looking about for the stick he had seen her using earlier. She had made this natural camping, no magic thing, look so easy and for perhaps the thousandth time, he cursed the circle for its lack of a proper education in life skills. "Foolish of me really, life skills mean cataloging books, not surviving the wilderness."

"What about books?"

He would admit it; he jumped, and reached automatically for his staff, which he kept within arms grasp at all times. "Maker's balls, Hawke!"

Yawning, she pushed herself up into an upright position and regarded him out of tired eyes. "Can't sleep?"

"No, and now I'm not likely too at all." He rubbed his chest, feeling his heart slowly returning to its normal rhythm. "Bad dreams?"

"No, not really," considering the usual nightmares she enjoyed, that was rather lovely. It hurt, dreaming of Carver, but… at least it hadn't been that dream, the one where she watched him die. Of course, her dreams were usually memories, coming back to replay themselves from different angles and perspectives, haunting her as it were. She had felt like she had been Carver, and Maker, he had not been pleased with her. "Just… just dreams."

Anders considered that, wondering again at the man she had called for. "Who is Carver?" By her sharp intake of breath, he was guessing a past lover and wondered what had happened to this man. She said she had served at Ostagar, perhaps she had lost him there. "I apologize… I shouldn't have," he began quietly. "It's just… you called his name and I was curious."

"I'm going back to bed; you should try to get some sleep Anders." She was being dismissive, but kind about it. "Maybe tomorrow we'll have better luck finding you more elfroot." She remembered what he had said about going through healing poultices, or rather what he hadn't said. She lay back down, wishing for a proper pillow and not this lumpy, hard satchel and covered herself with the blanket Bethany had insisted she bring.

But she didn't fall back asleep, not right away. Instead, she watched as Anders tended to the fire and just… sat there, staring into the flames. He wasn't handsome in what her mother would have called the traditional way, his nose a bit on the large side, and his hair… Maker his hair was still a bit of a mess, though he had taken it down. It fell past his ears, not quite touching his shoulders, and looked like it may have been soft to the touch.

"Whoa, Beau," she thought, wondering where that had come from and closed her eyes. She did not want to touch the mage's hair. She was not going to stare at him from her damned bed… she was…

"Would you like me to cast a sleeping spell for you?"

Groaning, she rolled onto her side, presenting her back to him. "No."

"If you're sure…" he sounded amused.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Why are we going through Dead Man's Pass?"

"Is that what this is? I've heard of it, never been."

Anders was being led around the countryside by a woman who had less knowledge of the area than he did, and she had been here longer. He was doomed. "Hawke…"

"You said you needed herbs; we're getting you herbs!"

There was no missing the laughter in her tone and despite himself, Anders smiled. Being around her was easy, even with all the chaos she tended to surround herself with. Chaos turned out to be an understatement when they stumbled onto a rather large group of spiders attacking a dwarf and what looked like mercenaries.

Chaos was an understatement when Beau accepted a proposal from the dwarf that involved qunari.

"I've noticed that you've been spending a lot of time with Blondie."

How did Varric seem to catch wind of everything that happened? Beau stared down at him before sinking into the seat he gestured too, shrugging nonchalantly. After the 'adventure' at Sundermount, she had gone back to trying to earn coin for the expedition. In what little free time she had left, she had been spending it with Anders, in his clinic. "I've been helping him."

Varric stared at her for a long moment. "Why?"

"No idea." She knew there was no money in it, which was what she needed at the moment, money. Aveline's little venture had turned up some coin but not much. Now that Aveline had popped into her head, Beau reckoned she ought to go visit her favorite redhead. She had dropped in after that morning, only to be told 'wait, I'll see you when I have something', whatever that meant. From the look Varric was giving her, she gathered he was refraining from pointing out her lack of funds. "Have you looked over those maps he gave us?" She asked, changing the subject, somewhat.

"A bit, not that they'll do us any good without coin to finance the trip."

"That stung, Varric."

He grinned at her. "Now Hawke, it was just a gentle reminder that we do have… priorities. I'm all for your new hobby of working with diseased, lice-infested people, alongside a possessed mage, truly."

"But working with diseased, lice-infested people with a possessed mage is no way to bring in coin," Beau said with a grin to match his, getting his point. "Hear you loud and clear, Varric. I'm on it. In fact, Bethie's been wanting to go have a look at Mother's ancestral home, see if we can't find our grandparents will."

"Alright?" One golden eyebrow slowly raised.

"And it's in a vault."

Now the other eyebrow. "A vault?"

"Mmm, a slaver vault."

He considered that, stroking his chin. "So, when were we leaving did you say?"

Beau smiled.