In which a Dalish pariah crosses paths with the Dread Wolf, and nearly burns Thedas to the ground in the process.
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This takes place during the events of Dragon Age 2 and...
A/N: Warning: there is violence and dark themes in this chapter. I do not own the video, lyrics or gif. The video is a cover of Nature Boy by Emmelie de Forest.
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"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
is just to love and be loved in return."
-Nature Boy by Nat King Cole
HARELLAN LAVELLAN stalked the deep woods, her footsteps as light as her bone-toothed arrows. Charcoal night stretched bare across the sky, gifting her a cloak of invisibility. She gripped the bow in her white-knuckled hands as she searched the hushed forest with brittle green eyes. Her breath came out in harsh puffs as she moved lithely in the dark; Firstfall's wintery air continued to bite at her skin.
A movement echoed somewhere deeper in the belly of the forest.
Grim satisfaction filled her as she squared her shoulders.
She had been stalking this prey for a while. Despite injuring it, the creature had proved elusive; Harellan was only able to hunt it by the deep and unnatural tracks it left behind. The elf smiled as she continued to follow them.
Her bloodied fingernails reached for the arrow in her quiver.
Three days ago, her Dalish clan, her kin, had been slaughtered by a beast.
Harellan's nose crinkled, smelling soot. Smoke bloomed in the near distance, uncurling and reaching the tips of the ancient trees. A light danced along the trees, illuminating the forest path.
So, he's set up camp, she almost grimaced. The cold finally won out it seems.A fool to the end.
Three days ago, her clan had been deceived by one of their own: their Keeper of Memories, Din'an. For weeks, their food reserves and materials had appeared to be tampered with. For weeks, Din'an had blamed a great beast, sent from Fen'Harel himself, for the clan's recent misfortune. And he had convinced the elves to accept the help of outsiders, hahren no less, to battle said monster.
But the only thing the humans hunted were her clan-mates.
She touched her makeshift wound dressing on the side of her body, a not-so-subtle reminder of her close brush with death once more. If they had been more careful, if they had ensured that she was truly dead, she may not have lived to exact her revenge.
Hugging the shadows, Harellan spotted the beast shivering against the icicle-air. He held himself close, wrapped in black fur, and attempting to stave off death one more day. He managed to bandage his leg from the cut she had inflicted, but it was done quite poorly; his leg was no doubt infected.
She smiled, supposing luck were on her side after all.
After somehow surviving the attack, Harellan had awoke dizzy, weak and in immense pain. However, it was the loss of her clan-mates that overshadowed any wound inflicted. It was a hole in her chest; a hole that could never be replaced but that demanded to be paid for.
