Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Grass

They trudged through the mountains in their massive number and there was new hope. And there was peace and quiet, time for reflection, conversation and song. Animals and birds shared open spaces.

Fen'Asha led the way and soon came to the spot Solas directed her to. A great watchtower loomed high, opportunity lifting into the blue out of a patchwork of stone.

"It should not be far now," said Solas. "This will be a good place to rest."

But Fen'Asha was eager, marking the watchtower as the first of many. She scaled its walls like she had scaled trees in the forest, clinging to crags in the brick and lifting herself up the side. At the top, she saw more watchtowers. And she saw what Solas sought, rising in the expanse under the ridge of yellow sun.

Solas looked up at her, eyes glistening.

"I think I see something in the distance," she said. "We still have enough daylight to scout ahead." She scooted down, using the ridges along the way as a guide.

Solas extended his hand and she took it. He hoisted her to the ground, her body pressed against his. He looked at her, carefully, questioningly.

She flushed, heart sparking heat to run through her veins.

"We'll set up camp here," came Cullen's order.

The throng responded, noisily erecting various tents and snapping camp into place in the course of what seemed a single solitary second.

Solas and Fen'Asha were no longer alone to consider the warmth between them. It was as though they'd been transported to a crowded fair, complete with runny-nosed elven children and doddering, drunken dwarves plying their wares.

The heat faded, despite Fen'Asha's best efforts. She leaned on him, pressed her ample breasts against him, pretended to steady herself and adjusted her boot.

But Solas turned away, joined the throng, joined the stupid fair with its stupid elven kids and stupid drunks. He said something stupid about helping with the planning.

Fen'Asha sighed, steadied herself for real against the stone of the damaged tower. Damn.

The next day passed in similar fashion and the group drew nearer to their destination. Conversation rattled and Fen'Asha eavesdropped, hearing Dorian and Vivienne dispute the finer points of Orlesian and Tevinter fashion while Sera mocked the colours and absurd hats.

Varric and Cole were carrying on. Cole was talking about stories. Or something...

The great Qunari Iron Bull was discussing the defences of the mountain pass, regaling Cassandra and the Grey Warden Blackwall about how the Chargers once secured a mountain pass just like this one and how they'd torn their enemies to shreds because they had higher ground.

Solas was close and Fen'Asha rejoiced in it. She swayed her hips just a little, taking a cue from how she turned the slobbering heads of some of the hunters. She knew she had certain resources with which to work, knew she could catch an eye or two if she so desired.

They spent countless hours together in service to the Inquisition, but this was different. She felt the sweat on her palms. Her mouth was dry, locked with the usual inability to communicate about anything other than hunting, the woods or Inquisition business. That damned "indomitable focus" was something Solas was proud of, but why did it have to plague her now?

She endeavoured all the more, defying the urge to riddle him with questions. She made small talk, pointing out a rock that looked like a rat or observing the colour of the leaves on a particularly supple tree.