Unforgettable

A Chance to Try

His fingers were burning. At least, that's what it felt like. Thule tried to pull his hands back, but something heavy bound them. His toes were burning, too, he realized, as consciousness began to settle heavily on him, like a pall of smoke. Or an avalanche.

Avalanche.

He twitched, trying to draw his feet away from the flames that were burning them alive. Then soothing blessed coolness washed over his extremities and a wave of drowsiness closed over his head. He was asleep again in moments.

The next time he woke, he recognized the sensations as the tingling of circulation returning to frozen hands and feet. In that long trek through the snow, he had resigned himself to losing some toes to frostbite; he hoped that keeping his hands under his arms as much as possible had saved his fingers. Experimentally, he tried wiggling them, but they seemed to be bound somehow.

He opened his eyes.

"Finally, you are awake," said a voice next to him, and he turned his head on the pillow.

"C-Cassandra?"

Her face came into view in the light of the single candle, her mouth set in its usual stern lines, but her eyes were soft. A warmth filled him at the sight of her; he felt better just knowing she was there. "I wondered how long you would sleep."

"How long has it been?"

"Since we found you in the snow? Nearly a day."

Thule cleared his throat. "How ... how bad is it?"

"You will recover."

"No, I mean—my fingers. Did I lose any?" He struggled to sit up in his alarm, and Cassandra placed a firm hand on his chest.

She glared at him. "You will lie still or I will call Dorian to put you to sleep again."

Thule settled back under the blankets. "Fingers," he reminded her.

"All ten." He recoiled in horror, and her eyes widened. "No, no, you still have all ten. Dorian thinks you may lose a toe, but your fingers are fine."

He could breathe again now, and he did so, slowly, saying a silent prayer of thankfulness to the Maker.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, that's all right." He looked at her more closely, noting how drawn her face looked, and the deep shadows under her eyes. "Have you slept at all?"

"Not since we escaped from Haven. I—you should not have stayed behind."

Thule smiled. "I don't run as fast as the rest of you. Makes me easier to catch."

"Do not make jokes! It wasn't funny."

"I know. I was there, not laughing, remember?"

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

"Not right at the moment. How is the rest of the Inquisition?"

"Tired. Cold. Grateful. Frightened. Hungry."

"All of those at once?" Thule smiled.

"You are still making jokes."

"It's a funny world."

"That is what Varric says." Her voice crackled with disapproval.

"Maybe it's a dwarf thing."