It’s really foolish of me, but I’ve always wanted children. Really I’d be happy with just one, but in the circle they don’t want you to think about children. Ancestors forbid we pass on our magic…but I don’t think its a curse, and I’d love to be a mother.

1. Must I miss anything?  *frowns*  Being with her was instructive, obviously, but that time has come to an end, and nostalgia is not a sentiment to which I am prone.

I do not know, but I wish the clan could have them. Probably something about the lack of portable ovens. But they are amazing.

I do not know what would be my absolute fondest memory, there are too many to choose from for that. But do you remember the first time that a bear approached us all? When we had managed to shake off Ashalle and sneak into the forest ourselves? I still think it was Tamlen who screamed at such a high pitch. But then you and I started talking to it and the bear sniffed at our hands and we were all so scared for a moment. And then she allowed us to pet her before lumbering off again. 

Send ✆ for a morning text

Are you up? I have this strange desire to get out of the city. Do you think your wolf friend will let us picnic again? I'll bring the pastries.

Send ✉ for a text that wasn’t sent

Stay out of the city. Templar are everywhere. When you hit the edge of Sundermount, keep running. No where is safe. Trust no one. 

[signal dropped]

Send ☎ for a rushed text

gotinna kinfe fight loscan't find Nanders help

Send ☏ for a loving text

You are, without a doubt, one of the purest souls I have ever known. Don't lose that. It is more valuable than you know.

Send ⁇ for a drunk text

Ushld comeby. I hav cheesecake and wkishy. 

Send ø for a late night text

When you dream, do you dream of the forest? I do. But now it's full of blood. I wonder if it will ever wash clean.

Send ✘ for a hateful text

21. A romantic camping trip turns deadly when something in the woods starts hunting our muses.

 "I know I heard something out there. Sometimes I imagine things. I know I imagine them. But that wasn't a thing I imagined. That was an actual thing out there in the woods." Merrill assured him, nodding when he glanced over his shoulder to where she knelt atop the sleeping bag behind him. 

He growled, standing bare chested to pull back the canvas flap that covered the mesh window. "Ain't nothin' out there idn't s'posed ta'be. We're in'tha woods. Things live in'tha woods. Ya know that."

"I know animal sounds, Feninan. These are not the same. There was something... metal, I think."

"I dunno what we're doin' in this tent ta'begin with. Live in tha'woods. Shoulda stayed in'tha cabin." He flicked the flap closed and headed for the front flap.

"It's supposed to be fun. Staying out in nature away from the conveniences of--"

"Ain't in nature, Dalish. Yer in a tent." 

Merrill blinked, uncertain how to debate what he'd just said as it was the truth. "Well, the tent keeps out the bugs and other animals and the elements and..." She stopped when she really began to think on what she was saying and whom she was saying it to. "But... I'm explaining this to a man who spends half his time roaming these woods as a wolf so..."

He glared back at her, yellow eyes narrowed for a brief instant before she stepped out of the tent and into the forest. He listened and heard nothing worth noting, then sniffed the air once, twice... on the third inhale he caught it. The subtle aroma of steel polish and gunpowder, previously hidden from him within the confines of that accursed, stifling tent. 

"Templar " he growled, fists balling nearly involuntarily as he scanned the surrounding tree copses for any sign of them.

"Dastan?" 

Her voice sounded even more fragile than usual and but it tore into him same as always. As he worked on the buttons to his pants he began to hear the sounds she'd latched onto. That steady clang of steel on steel one he'd associated with every Templar he'd ever encountered for as long as he could remember. 

"Inna minute yer gonna hear some screamin', Dalish. I want'cha ta'run an don't look back til yer sure yer safe. No matter what. Ya hear me?" 

When he looked over his shoulder she stood in the open flap, wide eyes running briefly across his bare skin before holding to his, her head nodding sharply in acceptance of his instructions. He shifted effortlessly, disappearing into the treeline, following the trail of scent and sound to the small but heavily armed platoon of Templar rummaging through their abandoned campfire fifteen yards away.

Keita smiled at the barrage of questions, realizing just how much she missed hearing such things from Merrill. “What changes have I gone through because of the mirror, you mean?” She thought about it for a bit, “The Taint itself, of course. I do not know if it was accelerated or not, because of what Keeper Marethari did. And with the- er,” Keita gave a slightly guilty expression, “reluctance I had in interacting with the Wardens, I am not certain how I may differ from the others. If my Taint is more or less than theirs, or behaves differently. And Creators only know if I will die sooner than they will because of it.”

"Of course. Ma serranas, da’vhenan." 

Morrigan did not often indulge in acts of whimsy. 

Perhaps it was the fact that she’d just finished a major project; perhaps it was the way the moon was already showing in the still-light sky as dusk approached; perhaps it was the fact that she could see the moon, being out beyond the city walls rather than sequestered beneath the plate.  Or perhaps her wolf form remembered how playful a pack could sometimes be.  Regardless, when she saw Merrill’s campfire and realized how close she was to the reclusive archaeologist’s work site, the witch headed for it. 

Her head and tail were held aloft, proudly, happily, sable fur sinking into the deepening shadows of the evening, but her eyes were citrine lanterns, and the elf should recognize her quickly. 

Sure enough, though Merrill’s eyes widened slightly as she looked up from her work to see the black wolf loping toward her on silent feet, she laughed.  “Well, you’re not a real wolf, and you’re not Swiftrunner – oh, don’t look at me like that, I said you’re not – and there aren’t any more werewolves around or I would know about it…  Hello, Morrigan.”  Merrill blinked at her, obviously running through possible reasons for the witch’s presence.  “Did you find out something new about the Eluvian?  I’ve been chasing that one idea that we had last week, but it hasn’t really gone anywhere yet…”

Morrigan huffed a wolfish snort and shifted, stepping unselfconsciously into the firelight.  The night was getting cold already, and the contrast of dry heat in front of her and cool air behind drew a single shiver, but she ignored it.  “I’ve an offer,” she said simply. 

“What kind of offer?  If you were going to carry something out here, I’m sure there were better ways to – oh!  Do you mean - ?”  The elf’s face brightened to match the firelight. 

“I did say I would teach you,” Morrigan responded with a shrug.  “Is now an acceptable time?  I realize ‘tis a touch… spontaneous.”  The last word had a sour aftertaste; it was uncomfortable, even though Morrigan knew academically that most others found the concept more agreeable than did she. 

“Now is wonderful!” Merrill exclaimed, clapping her hands together in clear delight.  “Ahh… do you… want a blanket, in the meantime?”