Skullerfly

Days after their raid on the merchant camp, once the clans had gone their separate ways again, Keeper Deshanna bid Mithra to pray and meditate on what it meant to kill the man who hurt her so deeply. She had been asked to grow up far too quickly without being given the honor of earning her vallaslin, and that would be remedied.

At dawn, Mithra used a clean blade to remove all hair from her face and limbs and entered the river bare. She let the water flow over every mark and scar, every fingerprint, every part he had touched with his unclean shemlen body. She had once thought she loved him, but she didn't know him for what he was until it was far too late. She erroneously blamed herself for "allowing" it, but she was just a child. That fact would war within her for years until she found peace with it. But this morning, her Keeper would mark her as a grown woman.

Draped in a cloak worn by all those who had completed the rite before her, she was led to a secluded spot far from camp where the leaves had turned in the autumn breeze. Keeper Deshanna pointed to a rock, low to the ground enough for her short stature to reach Mithra's face while she sat. She obeyed the silent command without changing her vacant expression. The light in her eyes had been gone for days and she had not wept since. Deshanna took a folded leather toolkit from her satchel, and a pot of brilliant crimson ink, laying everything out on another boulder nearby. She took the girl's face in her hands and pressed their foreheads together in motherly affection before uttering an ancient blessing that Mithra could barely understand at the time. Once she finished, she continued in Trade tongue.

"Mithra Hallen, Clan Lavellan has been blessed by your life. You have done well by your people, and you are beloved and cherished by them. Now is the time for you to accept the burden of adulthood in silent prayer as I write the blessing of Andruil in your blood. She has marked you as her hunter, and you have sacrificed your childhood to serve the clan. You have honored her, and you are hers forever."

She had Mithra remove the cloak and got to work slowly, the carved bone tip of the chisel etching lines into her forehead and placing ink beneath the skin. It didn't hurt. Not like Mithra thought it would. Nothing hurt anymore, but she felt so exposed. Raw was a better word. It was the first time anyone had seen her naked since. Touched her, since. As the Keeper worked her way down one cheek, she felt her eyes well up involuntarily. Not now, she couldn't allow it. She thought it would make her stop, make her decide she wasn't ready. Deshanna smoothed the girl's dark hair back with her free hand, delicately. Soothingly. She knew. Just one tear escaped, the ink flowing down with it from a freshly marked line and dripping off her chin.

It's alright, da'len. As long as we breathe, we will fight for you. You will never know that pain again. You were never weak.

The whole day was an ordeal, but she hardly remembered it. From her forehead down to the tops of her feet, she brought honor to Andruil by the hand of her Keeper. Her vallaslin. The nearly forgotten art of reverence to their gods, carved into her body and making it new. One that would never know the violation of the last. It marked her as Dalish, one with her people and beloved by her goddess.