Into the Woods (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Wild Night

Flemeth's second attempt had gone a long way toward defusing the tensions within the camp. No longer tense from waiting, they were all actively angry—and making this particular group angry wasn't something Jennie would have ever wanted to do, that much she was sure of. Preparations were at a fever pitch, and sparring matches were near-constant, everyone wanting to learn as much from each other as they could. The entire mood of the camp had shifted. Jennie found it pleasantly ironic that Flemeth herself had been the means of bringing them together and solidifying them all as a single team.

Except for Morrigan. The mage kept herself to herself, even shutting out Wulfric. At all hours of the night, she could be seen poring over an old black book, or pacing the perimeters of the camp muttering. Wulfric seemed concerned, but not anxious, so Jennie and the others took their cue from him and gave the mage some space. Wulfric was recovering from the injuries Flemeth had dealt him, but more slowly than Bethany would have liked. She watched him worriedly, wringing her hands. Bethany had never been much of a healer, unlike Anders. But Anders hadn't gone near Wulfric in his recovery, and had gone blue with Justice the one time Oghren had approached him about it, leaving the dwarf bewildered and hurt. Bethany was left on her own to do the healing. Fortunately for all of them, Wulfric was supremely healthy ... but it would be a while before he would be effective in a fight again, especially one against Flemeth. Oghren, Fergus, and Fenris would have to take the brunt of any frontal assault Flemeth might choose to mount. Jennie hoped that, having been bold and straightforward in her first two attempts, Flemeth would use more subtlety in her next. Zev, Isabela, and Varric, not to mention Jennie herself, were more than capable of handling subtlety, even from Flemeth.

The child Arthur was restless and unhappy, fidgeting and fussing unless he was in the presence of one of his parents. Given Wulfric's slow recovery and Morrigan's distraction, that had proven difficult to maintain. The rest of the group were straining to find ways to keep the boy entertained. Jennie found him a bit frightening—she liked children well enough, she supposed, but this one was odd, and she couldn't help straining to see the old god in the eyes of the little boy. So far, she'd seen little sign of it outside the battle, when he had looked through his mother's eyes.

After his parents, Varric, not too surprisingly, seemed to keep Arthur calmest. They spent hours together by the fire, Varric telling stories with Arthur's big eyes fixed on him, while the others gave them a wide berth. Arthur wasn't used to so many people, and he found it stressful to be too crowded.

It was getting toward late evening a few days after Flemeth's recent visit. Varric was telling another long, involved story, while Arthur listened, occasionally glancing around in search of one of his parents. The steady thunk, thunk of Isabela practicing with her throwing knives could be heard nearby. Jennie was leaning against a tree, watching them all, thinking that it was a lovely camp, and that if they weren't all waiting for an ancient evil to snatch up a child she could be perfectly happy here.

What startled her, she couldn't have said, but suddenly she was moving, her hands reaching for her bow, as a giant bird of prey swooped silently through the air and caught Arthur by the shoulders, climbing effortlessly back into the sky with him. Varric had moved almost as swiftly as Jennie, brandishing Bianca and aiming her at the bird. The bolt, hastily shot, narrowly missed hitting Arthur as the bird twisted in the air and spat a stream of some kind of green liquid directly into Varric's unprotected face. The dwarf cried out in agony, falling backward on the ground. Bianca flew from his hands, landing near the fire, her stock scorching from the proximity to the heat.

Wings beating strongly, the bird made for the sky. Jennie focused, putting aside the screams of her friend, the movement around the campfire, the stricken white face of the child. The world narrowed to her arrow and the bird's powerful wing.