Savior of the Damned

Chapter 2

Clan Lavellan was relatively large by Dalish standards. Their numbers reaching near eighty clan members and only growing in size due to the success of the Inquisitor's arrangements with Wycome officials. By the Inquisitor's intervention, Clan Lavellan was given permission to take up residence with Wycome in the Marches, granted land on the rural southern side of the city—which proved to be the perfect location for the Dalish to flourish. As part of the deal, the forests along the southern border of the city—and their upkeep—were adopted into the Clan's care. The people of Wycome had accepted the Dalish presence cordially, though some tensions still ran through some of the more affluent, prejudiced humans residing there.

And with that settled permanence, Anise noticed the shift as her people began to thrive. Clan Lavellan was able to become established traders within the City, their influence and goods beginning to spread well beyond into the other cities in the Marches. With the incoming and stable source wealth from their trading, her Keeper was able to expand their resources, which included creating a vastly more efficient and permanent infirmary—Var'haminan. Being the First meant when she was not out hunting, she was responsible for running Var'haminan with the Keeper. It was outfitted with numerous cots and equipped with a variety of rare supplies capable of treating even the most grievous of injuries. And the Keeper almost always had beds prepared, for they were in high demand now that Clan Lavellan was lending their warriors to the defenses of Wycome.

It had been strange for Anise to adjust, to finally have a place to settle and call home, even three years later after the settlement agreement. Perhaps that was why she constantly found herself being drawn into the forest, to wander the less traveled paths and find peace in the solitude it offered. The path she now walked was a familiar one, worn away from the steady traffic of aravels, caravans, and carriages. As she approached the encampment on that dirt path after emerging from the woods, the bustling and ambient sounds of the traders setting up their wares reached her ears. She hefted Fen'Harel up, readjusting his position on her shoulder to prevent him from sliding off as they shuffled past the stone statues of the Dread Wolf—how ironic—that stood on either side of the grand archway that led into the settlement.

"Mythal's mercy, Anise!" a shocked voice called to her, making her pause.

Tah'riel—one of the young merchants that acted as one of the many liaisons between Clan Lavellan and Wycome—was rushing over from his stand, a mop of golden curls bouncing as he hopped over a set of ale barrels at lightning speed. He took no time in carefully scooping up Fen'Harel's other arm and slinging it over his shoulder, alleviating some of the weight of Anise's back.

"I feel like you're dragging in a corpse every time you come out of the woods. Well... I mean, that's the goal when you go on hunts I guess, but granted they're usually animal corpses... not people corpses...I mean, you know what I mean," he stammered, his face blanching as the Wolf's blood began to blossom over his tunic, "those woods are... odd."

"Hah, I stumble on a lot of oddities in the woods Tah'ri, but I wouldn't consider the place itself odd. Thanks," Anise gestured with her head to Fen'Harel's limp form now slumping on the merchant's shoulder, "I've been carrying him for a few miles, I was beginning to think I'd lose feeling in my arm!" she lightheartedly joked, hoping it masked the nervousness bubbling up in her throat as she walked further into camp.

"A few... miles? Why didn't you send a signal for help?" Tah'riel asked in disbelief, tearing his hazel eyes away from the Wolf and shooting her a disheveled look.

Her heart skipped a beat. Shit.

"I overestimated my strength, I thought I could do it alone," she replied, swallowing thickly and picking up the pace that Tah'riel matched effortlessly. He gave her another look.