They reached the Brecelian a fortnight after being on the road with Zevran. The roads were quiet, the news of darkspawn and warfare having driven trade and travelers to a near standstill. They came across abandoned farms and townships, ones that hadn't even been touched by darkspawn, but people had heard news of them and fled.

“I hope the Dalish are still there when we get to the Brecelian,” Leliana said, as they walked through a farm that had been abandoned and picked over by scavengers and bandits. “If these people have left already...”

“News will take longer to reach them,” Morrigan said. “Few people brave the Brecelian. There will be someone there. If not, we simply double back and go to try and find one of your other allies.”

The Brecelian was dark.

There was a very clear border where the Brecelian ended and everything else began. Ostagar and the Korcari Wilds had been entangled with each other, with ruins reaching deep into the swamps and forests. The sky was more open there, the forest sparse and spread out.

The Brecelian was different. The trees were enormous evergreens, thick and broad, the foliage all but blocking out the light entirely. It was quiet and dark, and the only ruins they could see were so old no one could identify who the belonged to.

From almost the instant they set foot in the forest, they had the feeling of being watched. It did not take them long at all to come across the Dalish.

Three elves met them on the road, two women and one man, all dressed in intricate leather armor. The woman at the head of the group came to meet them, her fellows hanging back.

The woman who approached them had fair skin, lighter than either Zevran or Kitranna, and blonde hair pulled back sharply away from her face. Her gray-green tattoos were stark and clear, winding over her forehead, under her eyes and on her chin.

“Hold, outsiders,” she said. She had a thick accent, one difficult to identify. Her eyes roved over their group, her gaze catching on each of them. “The Dalish are camped in this spot. I suggest you move on, and quickly.”

Kitranna moved up. She glanced first at Alistair, then back to the woman. “We're Gray Wardens,” she said. “We need to speak with your leader.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, and shared a look with her compatriots. “A Gray Warden?” she said. “How do we know you speak the truth?”

“Many people come through here pretending to be Wardens, do they?” Alistair said.

The woman shot him a glare.

“There's not much point in us lying, is there?” Kitranna said. “And since there's a Blight on--”

The other two Dalish murmured to each other in an unfamiliar tongue, the woman going pale.

“The Blight has come so soon?” the woman said. She furrowed her eyebrows in though. “A lie would gain you nothing,” she said after a moment “We will take you to our Keeper. Be warned,” she added, her eyes narrowed. “If it is not as you say, remember that our arrows are trained on you.”

The three Dalish took them back to their camp. They spoke to each other softly, half in Common, and half in their own language. They watched Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan very closely, but did not afford Kitranna or Zevran quite the same scrutiny.

Their camp was deep in the woods, several hours' walk. It was larger than one might expect, almost the size of a small town. A flock of peculiar deer-like animals watched them as they walked through the entrance. The other Dalish watched them as well, murmuring amongst themselves. Some glared, some looked more curious. Many of them were fair-skinned, like the three hunters, but there were many others who had dark brown skin like Kitranna and Zevran, and one or two who were even darker.

The camp was set up amidst ruins that were so old they had almost entirely been consumed by the forest. There were still statues here, however, ancient worn figures. Many of them held lamps, or were surrounded by crates and other items. One was used to hold up an aravel that was missing a wheel.

“I see we have guests,” a tall elvhen man approached them, a woman at his side. He was very tall, of a height with Alistair, his skin white as paper. He was bald, and the tattoos on his face were not as stark as they were on the faces of the hunters, as if they had faded over time. In one hand he bore what was clearly a mages' staff.

The woman was shorter and stouter, with blonde hair bound in a bun at the back of her head. She carried a staff as well, on her back. She and the man exchanged a look as they approached.

“Who are these outsiders, Mithra?” he addressed the hunter who had brought them, and looked the group over with a slight frown. “I have precious little time and less patience to spend on outsiders.”

“Gray Wardens, Keeper,” Mithra said. “Or so they claim. They speak of a Blight—I thought it best to take them to you.”

“That was wise of you,” the Keeper assured her. “Mas serannas, Mithra. You may return to your post.”

She inclined her head. “Ma nuvenin, Keeper.” she left them.

The Keeper focused his attention on Kitranna and the others. “You are Gray Wardens?” he said.

“We are,” Kitranna said. “I'm Warden Kitranna Surana, and that's Warden Alistair.”

“And your companions?” he looked at Leliana, Zevran and Morrigan.

“They aren't Wardens, but they're with us.”

“Hm.” the Keeper looked at his companion, and the woman raised an eyebrow at him. They had a quiet conversation, in their own language so they couldn't be understood.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said, at last switching back to Common. “I am Zathrian, the Keeper to Clan Leanvunlas, its guide and protector.” he sighed. “The Wardens have become desperate enough to reach out to my people, I see.”

“Well, there is a Blight on,” Kitranna said. “Archdemon and everything. We don't exactly have a lot of options.”

“I could sense the corruption spreading in the south,” Zathrian said. “The existence of the Blight is not news to me.”

“You sensed the corruption?” Alistair exclaimed. “How'd you do that?”

An unreadable expression flickered across Zathrian's face as he glanced in Alistair's direction. “Why would I tell you?” he said. “We are not allies as of yet.”

“If you know about the Blight, why are you still here?” Kitranna asked.

Zathrian pursed his lips and began to pace. “We do not currently have the ability to move,” he said. “If we did, we would have been away long before now.” he fingered the bridge of his nose. “I imagine you are here regarding the treaties we signed centuries ago. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made.”

“What?” Kitranna exclaimed. “Why not?”

“This will require some explanation,” Zathrian informed her. “Follow me.” he showed them to the other side of the camp, where a makeshift hospice had been set up. Several wounded elves lay on stretchers, tended to by their Clanmates.

Zathrian lay a hand on the forehead of one of the wounded elves, a man whose face was pinched and pained even in sleep. Zathrian's hand glowed with the soft white light of a weak healing spell, and the man relaxed incrementally.

“The Clan came to the Brecelian one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden,” Zathrian told them. He turned away from the wounded man. “We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us.”

“Werewolves?” Kitranna gasped.

“The Brecelian is afflicted with a werewolf curse?” Morrigan said, raising her eyebrows.

Zathrian nodded. “Yes—they ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done. Many of our hunters and warriors are dead already, some lay dying as we speak.” he kneeled down by the stretcher of another wounded elf, this one a woman with long black hair. Her breath was shallow and quick, and Zathrian lay a healing hand on her side.

“If their wounds were caused by werewolves...” Morrigan said.

“We will be forced to slay our bretheren, yes,” Zathrian said. He got to his feet. “The Blight's evil must be stopped, yes,” he told them. “But we are in no position to fulfill our obligations. I am truly sorry.”

Kitranna furrowed her brow, thinking. “We need to talk,” she said, jerking her head in her companions' direction.

“If you wish,” Zathrian said. “I would suggest you reach a decision soon, however.”

The Wardens and their companions walked a little ways away, towards a more isolated section of the camp. The Dalish hunters still trailed them, but at a large enough distance to give at least the illusion of privacy.

“How did he know about the Blight already?” Alistair hissed. “He 'sensed' it—what does that mean?”

“I have heard of this Keeper Zathrian,” Morrigan said. “He is quite old, and knows much magic that is long forgotten.”

“We should leave,” Kitranna said. “They can't help us and we don't have much time.”

“There must be something we can do,” Leliana said, glancing at her companions. “Surely we cannot leave them to fend for themselves!”

Kitranna's lip curled. “Would they help us?” she retorted. “Zathrian said he would have gone north by now if he could have—they throw their own mages to the Templars, why would they bother to help us?”

“Are you quite sure that is true?” Zevran asked, glancing at her. “I have encountered Antivan Clans—I have never met one who practiced that.”

“You're sure?” Kitranna said. “Because the Circle's had at least a few Dalish come to us.”

Zevran nodded. “Quite sure—they were frequently hunted by Templars because of the mages they had in their Clans.”

Kitranna pursed her lips. “We'll ask him,” she said, nodding in Zathrian. “We'll ask what's going on and then I'll ask him about the mages, and then I'll decide.”

She went to Zathrian, who was by the side of an elvhen woman who had a vicious gash across her chest.

“What have you decided?” the older elf asked, not looking away from the injured woman he was tending to.

“Tell me more about what's happening,” Kitranna said. “Tell us what we can do.”

Zathrian turned to face them. “The only thing that could help must come from the source of the curse itself,” he said. “It would be no trivial task to retrieve.”

Kitranna pursed her lips. “Tell us what it is,” she said. “We'll see what we can do.”

“Within the forest dwells a great wolf,” Zathrian explained. “We call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse—but this task has proven too dangerous for us.” he closed his eyes. “I sent several hunters into the forest a week ago, but they have not returned. I cannot risk any more of my Clan.”

“Perhaps we may succeed,” Leliana said. “If--”

“How could we succeed in killing this thing where they failed?” Kitranna demanded. She turned on Zathrian. “Do you even know if this would work?”

“I do not,” Zathrian admitted. “But it's the only hope we have left.”

Something tightened around Kitranna's chest.

“I...” she hesitated. “If we help you, you would help us?” she asked.

Zathrian inclined his head. “We would do what we are able to do,” he said. “Right now, we may do nothing.”

“Before we help you...I want to know something,”

Zathrian narrowed his eyes. “I will answer what is in my power to answer,” he said slowly, his expression dubious.

“Do you really care so much about these people?” Kitranna asked.

Zathrian's eyes flashed. “How could you ask me such a thing?” he exclaimed. The eyes of the other Dalish turned to them. “You question my devotion to my Clan?” sparks began to gather around Zathrian's form.

“You would turn them out if they were mages, wouldn't you?” Kitranna snarled.

Zathrian blinked, taken aback. “...I beg your pardon?” he said. The sparks suddenly went out, and all the other Dalish began muttering amongst each other, sounding confused. “Would I what?”

“That's what you do, isn't it?” Kitranna insisted. “If you have mages, you leave them for the Templars?”

Zathrian stared at her. “...I am a mage,” he said, slowly, as if she were a bit dim. “My First, Lanaya, is a mage. There are several other mages here—what are you talking about?”

“If you don't turn them out, how is it that Dalish children come to the Circle?” Kitranna said.

The mood of the other Dalish turned sour again, and Zathrian's expression grew dark.

“Do your Templars honestly tell you that the children stolen from our Clans were cast out?” he said.

“That's what they say,” Kitranna snapped.

The Dalish began murmuring angrily to one another, and Zathrian breathed out hard through his nose.

“The Circle has long hounded our Clans,” he said. “They will kill our mages and steal our children—our Clan has not suffered this for some time, but we know of many Clans who have. Is that what they tell them? They tell the children they have captured that we did not want them?”

“Yes!”

Zathrian clenched his fist. “That is--” he choked on his words. He had gone pale with rage. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked at Kitranna again. “Who is your family?” he asked her. “Where did you come from?”

“I don't know,” Kitranna said with a shrug. “They always told me I came from a city.”

“Ah,” Zathrian nodded. “A city cousin...perhaps that is something, at least.”

Kitranna looked up at him sharply. “Perhaps it's what?”

“At least you were not taken from a Clan,” he said. “They did not poison your mind against your own people. Listen to me,” he told her. “If a child is born to us, we will do everything possible to protect and keep them. There are precious few of us as it is, and we do not turn out children.” at the last word, he flared momentarily with a brilliant magical aura before getting himself under control again.

Kitranna looked up at him and met his eyes. She studied him for a long minute, her lips pursed. She looked over his shoulder, at the wounded Dalish on their stretchers.

“Alright,” she said. “Alright. We'll see what we can do to help you—but you better help us.”

“Hm,” Zathrian tilted his head up. “We will do what we can, da'len.”

Zathrian told them that if they needed anything in particular, to ask Lanaya, his First. They went to one edge of the camp, away from the other Dalish, and began to plan.

Lanaya came over and met them. Her facial tattoos were dark green, and looked like two branches on either side of her face, meeting in the center of her forehead.

“Ander'an'atish'an, Gray Wardens,” she said, inclining her head.

“Hello,” Kitranna said. The others nodded and murmured their own greetings, busy with their equipment.

“I am Lanaya, Keeper Zathrian's First,” she said. “What you might call an apprentice.” she tilted her head and peered intently at Kitranna. “Did they really tell you that the Dalish turn mages out of their Clans?” she asked.

Kitranna nodded. “They really did.”

Lanaya shuddered. “That is terrible,” she said.

“Are you sure other Clans don't do that?” Kitranna said, her expression dubious.

“Of course they don't!” Lanaya said. “Well—none I've ever met have done that!”

“Hm.” Kitranna frowned and looked away.

“Do you know much about the outside world?” Lanaya asked. “I'm curious.”

“Not really,” Kitranna said. “Leliana might, or Zevran,” she nodded towards her companions.

Lanaya glanced at Leliana and Zevran in turn.

“Is it difficult, working with shemlen?” Lanaya asked in a quiet voice.

“Not always,” Kitranna said. “You don't know many humans?”

Lanaya shook her head. “The only humans I have ever known were the group of bandits the Clan saved me from when I was a child,” she explained. “We try to stay away from humans.”

“Do you stay away from all humans?” Leliana asked, approaching them.

Lanaya looked her up and down, fascinated. “Yes,” she said. “Most humans are not friendly to us, nor us to them.”

Leliana grimaced. “I cannot contest that,” she admitted. “But humans are not all bad, just as not all elves are good—surely there must be some way to get along.”

Lanaya tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps when the shemlen return the land and the people they have taken from us,” she said. “I do not see how, otherwise.”

Leliana blinked. “I suppose that must be...hard,” she said. “I am sorry.”

“Are other humans sorry, for what they did to us?”

“I could not say.” Leliana bit her lip. “I hope so.”

Lanaya then pointed them in the correct direction, and they left the camp to go deeper into the woods. Zathrian believed that Witherfang occupied an ancient ruin, some kind of burial ground that none of the Dalish liked to get very close to.

The woods were quiet, uncomfortably so. There was little birdsong on the air and the sound of other animals was entirely absent. Zathrian had warned them to be wary of not just werewolves, but stray spirits and magical creatures when they entered the woods.

They walked for over an hour, encountering nothing. They saw more ruins, old statues and the skeletons of buildings, all with a peculiar magic clinging to them. The Fade was in tatters, not damaged exactly, but worn through, as if it were a piece of cloth that had simply become too old to hold itself together.

Eventually, they encountered one of the werewolves.

A howling of wolves came up all around them, and they were suddenly beset by normal wolves, large gray beasts who attacked them without fear. Backing the wolves up however, was something much worse.

It was an enormous figure, standing on two legs but much larger than any human or elf or even a vashothari. It had a hunched back and was covered in gray fur, its hands long and clawed, its teeth bared.

It went straight for Alistair, who struggled to fight it. Kitranna stayed back, using her spells at a distance, while Leliana did the same, armed with a bow and arrow. Morrigan stayed at the back for a time before turning into a large bear and going to Alistair's aid, and Zevran was immediately there with a pair of poisoned daggers.

As a bear, Morrigan was the same size the werewolf was, and she, Zevran and Alistair took the werewolf down (with the aid of the dog), while Kitranna and Leliana took care of the ordinary wolves. Finally, their opponents were all dealt with.

Alistair panted and leaned heavily on his shield. Morrigan turned back into a woman, and went to retrieve her staff.

“Are you alright?” Kitranna asked, coming over and putting a hand on Morrigan's shoulder. “Did it bite either of you?”

Alistair shook his head. “No, no, I'm fine,” he gasped.

“I am well,” Morrigan said, looking over her arms and legs. “it attempted to bite me several times, but it was not successful.”

"I am fine as well," Zevran said, wiping blood off his daggers.

“That was just one,” Kitranna said, standing over the body of the werewolf. It was huge, even in death. “What do we do when we come across a whole pack of them?” she glanced up at her companions.

“This explains why the Dalish were having such trouble,” Leliana said quietly. “Is this—can we do this by ourselves?”

“I do not see any other way,” Zevran said.

Kitranna scowled. “Come on,” she said. “We need to keep moving.”

They pushed deeper into the woods. Kitranna furrowed her brow and moved to the front of the group.

They could just leave the forest, make a break for it. They could easily abandon the Dalish and try to find help elsewhere, but Kitranna found herself not wanting to. She wasn't going to let any werewolves get the best of her—no demon, no Templar, no darkspawn, and no werewolf would beat her.

It was at a waterfall when they found more werewolves. It was a group of them this time, flanked by normal wolves. These ones did not attack them, however. One stood at the head of the group, its teeth bared and its hands out.

“The watchwolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters,” it growled, its voice guttural and thick. “The Dalish send more to repay us for our attack—humans, of all things, as well as their own!”

“We aren't Dalish,” Kitranna was quick to point out.

The werewolf pulled its lips back further from its teeth. “You stink of them—even if you are not their people, you come from them, to put us in our place.”

“You attacked them first,” Kitranna said.

The werewolf growled. “Is that what they told you?”

Kitranna raised her eyebrows. “I suppose you were peacefully hanging about, and then they decided to attack you for no reason?”

The other werewolves began to growl as well.

“Go back to the Dalish,” the head wolf snarled. “Tell them that you have failed. We would see them suffer the same curse we have lived under for too long.”

Kitranna's lip curled. She stepped forward, took her staff off her back. “We haven't failed,” she snapped, pointing her staff at them. “We want to get rid of the curse—or don't you want that?”

“You know nothing of us, do you?” the werewolf snorted, and its hands clenched. “Nothing of us, and even less of those you serve!”

“I don't serve anyone,” Kitranna hissed. “And you won't stop me.”

The werewolf sunk into a crouch. “Run from the forest while you can,” it spat. “Run to the Dalish, and tell them they are doomed.”

“It does not have to be this way,” Leliana said. “Surely you cannot want this fighting—is there no way we could speak?”

“The Dalish do not speak with us,” the werewolf said.

“We're not Dalish,” Leliana said.

“You cannot undo this curse,” the werewolf said. “And the Dalish wish only our destruction.”

“You attacked them,” Kitranna snapped. “Why wouldn't they?”

The werewolf shook its head. “You know nothing,” it said. “Go back,” he snarled. “While you are still able. We grant you this—we will not throw ourselves at you like mindless beasts.” he turned to the other werewolves. “Come—we retreat,” it called. “The forest will deal with them as it always has.”

The werewolves left, vanishing into the forest.

“Well,” Alistair said after a minute. “That was bracing.”

“You would think they would want their curse to be cured,” Leliana said, her expression concerned. “Why would they react in such a violent way?”

“It would seem that their conflict with the Dalish is far deeper than we initially thought,” Morrigan said. “Perhaps we ought to speak with the Keeper again.”

“I don't think we have the time for that,” Alistair said.

“We go forward, then,” Kitranna growled, her eye on the spot where the werewolves had gone.

They pushed forward again, the forest growing darker and stranger around them. At one point, they found a wounded Dalish hunter on the ground.

“We must take him back to his people!” Leliana exclaimed, kneeling down and checking his injuries. “We cannot leave him out here.”

“We need to keep moving,” Kitranna said, shaking her head.

“No,” Leliana said. “I will go back with him.”

“You shouldn't go alone,” Alistair said. “I'll come with.”

“Are you certain?” Leliana said, glancing at Kitranna.

Kitranna heaved a breath, and glanced down at the hunter. He was deathly pale, his breath shallow. Something in her gut twisted, and she nodded. “If you have to.” she said.

Leliana took the hunter back the way they had come, leaving Kitranna with Morrigan, Zevran and the dog.

They were several miles into the woods when they encountered the Sylvanwoods.

They were walking along the path, when a tree—unfolded itself. Morrigan let out a startled exclamation and they all raised their weapons to the thing. It did not move towards them at first, and they edged around it. It had a rough shape where the head would be if it had been a person, and hollow sockets for eyes. It watched them as they went, but did not attack them.

They encountered several more Sylvanwoods along the way, one of which did attack them. An enormous elm, it swiped at them with long wooden claws, but fell when Morrigan and Kitranna lit it on fire. Zevran, unfortunately, couldn't do much to it—it hardly reacted when slashed with a blade, even a poisoned one.

They came across a rhyming Sylvanwood, an elderly and rather pleasant tree who asked them to retrieve a possession that belonged to it, an acorn that it prized very greatly. They made no promises, but said they would bring it back if they saw it.

Leliana and Alistair had still not returned when they encountered Danayla.

The werewolf was hunched by the side of the path, in pain. It spoke to them when they came across it, but made no move to attack.

“Please,” it groaned, voice deep and guttural. “Help, listen--”

They raised their weapons, but when the werewolf made no move to attack them, Kitranna cautiously drew closer. “What is it?” she asked. “Why do you need me to listen?”

“I am Dalish,” the werewolf stammered. “Attacked—cursed—the curse inside me, turned me into a beast—the werewolves, they found me, took me in--” the werewolf gave a harsh cry, like a laugh. “Attacked my people, then showed me kindness—but I had to return, I had to--”

“You were Dalish?” Kitranna said. “Were you part of Clan Leavunlas?”

The werewolf looked up at her, its ears flicking back. “You know my Clan?”

“Yeah,” Kitranna said.

“I suppose she was one of the elves bitten in the attack,” Zevran said.

“The Keeper sent you?” the werewolf asked.

“He did.”

“Then you seek Witherfang.”

“We do,” Kitranna said. “Have you seen him?”

“I have,” the werewolf admitted. “But—it is not what you think. There is no time to explain—you must listen.” the werewolf took a deep breath. “My name is Danayla. My husband, he is called Arthras—take this to him, please--” she held out one long claw, and Kitranna tensed, but saw that in her hand was a scrap of green cloth.

“Why?” Kitranna asked.

“Tell him I am dead,” Danayla begged. “With the gods. Tell him...”

“But you are not dead,” Morrigan said. “And we come to end your curse. To kill you would be a needless thing to do.”

Danayla gasped. “I cannot bear it!” she cried. “I cannot bear the pain!”

Kitranna bit her lip, then slowly she reached out and took Danayla's furred wrist. Her muscles were tense under her skin, thick and tight, her fur dense and rough. “You aren't dead,” she assured the other woman. “We'll help you. We can do better for you and your husband than just—than just telling him you're dead!”

Danayla groaned again. “Please—I beg of you, give me release--”

Morrigan sighed. “Step aside,” she told Kitranna.

“What are you going to--”

Morrigan moved past Kitranna and put her hand on the side of Danayla's head. The werewolf's eyes slid closed, and she collapsed with a sigh.

“There,” Morrigan said. “Her pain is ended for the moment, and we can continue on our way.”

“Should we tell her husband about this?” Zevran asked, glancing down at the scarf that she had tried to give them.

“She's not dead,” Kitranna reminded him. “She can tell him about it herself when we end the curse.”

They rolled Danayla onto her side, so her hands wouldn't be trapped underneath her. She was extremely heavy.

“How long will she be asleep for?” Kitranna asked. “What spell was that? I've never seen a sleeping spell that strong.”

“She will be asleep for quite some time,” Morrigan said. “Flemeth invented that one for me as a child. Sometimes, when I was very small, we would have to move abruptly, and she could not risk that I would make noise. She stopped using the spell once I was old enough to understand her commands.”

“She invented it?” Kitranna said.

“Yes—it was not difficult. She and I have both invented many such small spells—have you not?” she glanced at Kitranna.

Kitranna shook her head. “No—they never liked you doing that in the Circle. Always thought it could be dangerous.”

Morrigan tisked. “Most of the spells I have created myself are mere household charms,” she said, shaking her head. “Making it easier to peel potatoes or thread a needle is hardly a threat worthy of the Templars.”

They left Danayla sleeping by the path, and went ahead, further into the forest. Leliana and Alistair finally caught up with them.

“You brought the hunter back to the Clan?” Kitranna asked.

Leliana nodded. “They were very happy to see him.”

They told the two of their encounters with the rhyming tree and with Danyla.

“Did the Dalish say anything else about the werewolves?” Kitranna asked. “Anything else we should know?”

“No,” Leliana shook her head.

“Danyla told us that it wasn't what we thought it was,” Kitranna said. “Not sure what she meant by that.”

“She was half delirious with pain,” Morrigan reminded her. “There is no telling how much information was accurate.”

They pressed onward. At some point, they encountered a thick and strange fog which lead them around in circles, and they realized the fog must have been magical. In their attempts to circumvent the fog, they came across an old, half-mad hermit who just so happened to have the rhyming tree's acorn.

“This is ridiculous,” Morrigan commented at that.

“It really is,” Kitranna agreed. “What could he want with that acorn?”

“D'you think we should give the acorn back to the tree?” Alistair said. “I mean...he did steal it, I suppose. As much as you can steal anything from a tree.”

The hermit protested that he did not steal it, and of course there was the fact that it was uncertain what qualified as property as far as trees and hermits were concerned. In the end, Leliana managed to snag the acorn from the hermit, and they returned it to the tree. If nothing else, they didn't really need any particularly angry and old Sylvanwoods running about. Returning the acorn proved to be to their benefit, as the tree gave them an item that it said would help them navigate the fog, which, as it turned out, was indeed magically generated.

They went through the fog, this time not getting turned around in the slightest.

The skeletons of stone buildings rose up around them. Although the buildings had been swallowed by the forest, it was clear they had once been vast and covered a great deal of ground. There was a feeling of magic over the place, as if the Veil was thin.

They ran into another werewolf, perhaps the same one they had met at the falls. It approached them, but made no move to attack.

“The forest has not been vigilant enough,” it said. “Still you come.” it tilted its head to the side, pulled its lips away from its teeth in a snarl. “You are stronger than we anticipated—the Dalish chose well. But this is no longer your territory, elf—leave this place!”

Other werewolves came bounding up behind the lead one, and Kitranna and her group readied their weapons, but the werewolves still made no move to attack.

“There must be some way this doesn't have to end in bloodshed,” Leliana said

Kitranna snorted. “I don't think so,” she said, and raised her staff.

“Wait!” Leliana grabbed Kitranna's arm. Kitranna shook her off with a hard glare. “Please,” Leliana implored the werewolves. “There must be some other way!”

“You and the Dalish come only to kill,” the head werewolf snarled. “We have learned this lesson well.”

“We want to end your curse!” Alistair burst out. “Don't you want that, too?”

“You would kill Witherfang,” the werewolf said. “We will not allow that!”

“Your curse causes you such pain,” Leliana urged. “Why do you defend something that causes it?”

“You know nothing,” the werewolf shook its head. “You speak of what you do not understand!”

“Is there some reason you could not explain this to us?” Zevran asked.

The werewolves began to advance, but something came between them and Kitranna's group.

A great white wolf, larger than any of the other ordinary wolves they had seen thus far, came charging in to separate them. Upon seeing the wolf, the werewolves backed away, turning to go deeper into the forest.

The wolf threw its head back and let out a long howl that made the ears ring and the legs turn wobbly. The wolf made no move to attack them, merely stood in the path for a long moment before turning and following the werewolves.

“...was that Witherfang?” Alistair posited when the wolf left.

“After it!” Kitranna said, and they bolted after the wolf.

They could not find the wolf, but instead went deeper into the ruins. The trees receded somewhat and buildings grew up around them. The feeling of magic pressed down heavily on them, prickling like the air before a storm.

They found themselves inside a mostly intact building. Trees grew inside of it, and the stonework was clearly very old. It was unfamiliar, not seeming Tevinter or Ferelden or even dwarven. It smelled like moss, and animals, and dragonhide.

“S'pose this is it, then,” Alistair said, pressing a hand to one of the carvings on the walls. “Werewolf city.”

“It is possible there is a drake nesting here somewhere,” Morrigan said. “We should be careful.”

It was deathly quiet as they made their way inside. They went down a long flight of broad stairs which must have been magnificent when they were first built, and came to an enormous antechamber. There were patterns set into the stone on the ground, a mosaic, and the more one looked the more one realized that the trees did not invade the space, per se, but more complimented and grew around it.

In the antechamber was the body of an elf, dressed in Dalish hunting leathers. The body was mauled, torn open by enormous claws. Kitranna tightened her grip on her staff.

“They're definitely here,” she muttered.

They continued onward. There were several doors out of the antechamber, but only one was unlocked. It opened into a set of hallways.

Alongside the hallway were statues of women dressed in long robes, carrying various items. They were all different women, and one could not tell if they were elvhen or human, because their ears were all covered by a hood, or a helmet, or their hair.

“Why d'you care so much all of a sudden?” Alistair asked Kitranna quietly as they walked.

“What?” Kitranna snapped.

“You were just about ready to give up on the Dalish, leave them behind. Why do you care so much?”

“We need allies, don't we?”

“True, but this is a lot of trouble to go to, isn't it?”

Kitranna grunted.

“I mean, it's probably not a great idea to leave a lot of werewolves running around,” Alistair said. “But still. Why is it so important now?”

“Because the Circle lied,” she grumbled. “And the Dalish don't deserve this.” she tightened her grip on her staff. “And because I'm not going to back down from a bunch of jumped-up dogs.”

Alistair nodded. “Right. No hostility here at all.”

“Am I supposed to be friendly? To werewolves?”

“Good point.”

Deeper into the ruins, the smell of dragon grew much stronger. Something growled around a corner.

“I think there's something...big...ahead,” Alistair muttered.

“Oh, who could have guessed that?” Morrigan hissed.

They continued, more cautiously this time. In the distance, the beast growled so loudly it made the ground under their feet shake.

The drake had holed up in a huge antechamber, surrounded by gold and jewels and other plundered artifacts. There were the skeletons of at least two other adventurers, one of which in Templar armor.

The drake was a juvenile, luckily, but still large and dangerous. It set Morrigan's robes on fire and Leliana's arrows broke on its hide.

Alistair charged it and was flung aside. He slammed into a pillar opposite and fell to the ground. Zevran tried to get behind the drake, to avoid its teeth and sharp claws, but had to dodge its wings and long tail and couldn't get close enough to attack it.

Kitranna growled, frustrated, and she and Morrigan both aimed Winter's Grasp spells at the drake, hoping to immobilize it.

Leliana and Zevran both came at it with their daggers, as now it moved much slower, although it wasn't immobilized. Kitranna and Morrigan kept it slowed down with their spells and Zevran and Leliana eventually managed to kill it.

Leliana wiped her forehead, only to get dragon blood on her face. She paid no mind and they went to Alistair.

Alistair was alive, but his shield arm was clearly broken.

“Clever of you,” Morrigan said. “To render your only use pointless.”

Alistair, for his part, could only roll his eyes. He was so pale he was almost gray, and his breathing was fast and shallow.

Morrigan sighed heavily and started making a makeshift splint. “I have no healing spells that would mend a broken bone. What have you?” she asked Kitranna.

“Nothing,” Kitranna said. “We need to keep moving. Should Alistair come with us, or should he go back to the Dalish? Or stay here?”

Leliana looked around. “I do not think it would be a good idea to stay here,” she said. “The werewolves may return, and come across you, should they realize the drake is no longer making sounds.”

“He is hardly in a fit state to continue,” Morrigan said. “He would slow our progress greatly.”

“Thanks,” Alistair muttered.

“I only say what is true.”

“Then he should go back to the Dalish,” Leliana said. “I can take him—I have been back once before.”

“I could go back on my own,” Alistair suggested. “I mean...”

“That would be unwise,” Zevran said. “It is dangerous enough with two working arms.”

“The two of you can go back then,” Kitranna said with a sharp nod, then paused. “Take the dog with you, too," she instructed. "We'll go forward.”

Leliana helped Alistair to his feet. “Will you not wait for me to return?” she said. “You do not know what lies ahead....”

“We can do it,” Kitranna insisted.

“You're sure?” Alistair asked.

“I'm sure.”

“Alright...” Alistair clapped his good arm on Kitranna's shoulder, and he and Leliana retreated up the steps, the dog on their heels.

The remaining three of them went down even deeper into the ruins.