She was slipping away, the elven girl, Solas knew as he knelt down beside her. Blood had soaked through her ragged tunic, spreading across the ground. Her eyes had closed, her skin almost translucent. He needed to stop the bleeding first, laying a hand on her side, focusing, slowing the flow of blood.
"What do we do?" The dwarf asked him, her face frantic with worry.
Solas sighed, "Get her inside. Somewhere dry where I can work."
The human man who had knelt over her nodded briskly. He slid his arms beneath her, gently lifting the elf, her head resting on his shoulder. He staggered into one of the remaining huts, his feet skidding a little on the blood and viscera around them.
"How can we help?" The dwarf asked again as the elf was carefully laid on a bed. She was fading rapidly, Solas could feel it. "Her name is..."
"I don't care." Solas snapped. "Just stay out of my way and let me work."
"Eagan, go and make sure the other survivors are alright." The dwarf suggested. "I'll look for something to use as bandages." Solas briefly admired her practicality but turned his attention back to the girl.
She wasn't difficult to heal, not with his power. Her breathing eased as he leaned over her. The dwarf gave him cloth and he wrapped the newly healed flesh with care. "It's done."
"Thank you, whoever you are." The dwarf said heavily, "She's a sweet girl."
"I should go."
"No, please stay!" She asked, "Just until Eagan gets back. The others were too afraid to stay. He's taking them towards an Inquisition camp."
He should go, Solas thought to himself. He shouldn't have stopped really. But he nodded without thinking, perching on the table at the end of the bed.
The girl stirred in the bed, moaning a little with fatigue. "Hey kid. You hear me?" The dwarf was at her side in an instant.
"Malika? Where am I?" Her voice was soft.
The man, Eagan, burst back in from the stormy night, "I took them a decent way. There's an Inquisition camp not far down the coast from here. I sent the two of them on with a letter; they should remember me. How is she?"
"How many survived?" The eleven girl's voice was raspy. She needed water.
"You shouldn't be talking." Eagan said, rushing to her side, "It's a miracle that you're even alive." He brushed a hair from her forehead and paused. The intimate gesture surprised Solas. The human seemed to genuinely care for the little elf. "There were five of us in the end: us three and two of the women. They didn't want to stay so I saw them safely onward. What you did was crazy." He shook his head. "But thank you."
"Our little elven warrior." The dwarf, Malika laughed. "It was our saviour who healed you with his magic."
Finally, the girl's eyes focused enough to notice him there. He watched surprise cross her features.
"Ma melava halani." She called out, "Ma serannas, lethallin."
"You're most welcome." The voice said from the back. He rose stiffly. "Now that I know you're going to live, I should take my leave." Get going, Solas told himself. You assuaged your conscience. He needed to disappear before someone recognised him, before the Nightingale's spies were at his heels once more.
"Master Solas?" Eagan said suddenly. Solas stiffened. Too late. He muttered a curse beneath his breath. It would be all over the Inquisition soon. He had to extricate himself from the situation as soon as possible. Lavellan had made him soft. "It is you! I didn't recognise you at first: it's been so long since my capture. My name is Eagan: I worked as a scout for the Nightingale."
"I..." Solas aimed to cut him off but the scout was clearly so pleased with his deduction he wouldn't stop talking.
"Master Solas works for the Inquisition. He's one of the Inquisitor's inner circle..." He prattled on, "Were there many losses in the final battles?"
Solas gave an awkward sort of reply, cursing the man for his interrogation. Sooner or later, he would realise how odd the situation was, and as one of Leiliana's people, would be reporting in.
"Will you come with us, Master Solas?" Malika asked him, and then turned to the elf, "Eagan is returning to the Inquisition and he says they will give us refuge for a time at least."
"No." Solas looked away.
"Why not? Aren't you Lavellan's friend?" The scout frowned. Yes, Solas thought with a sadness he didn't show. The persistent questions were wearing at his patience, at the fragile control he presented to contain the tide of grief and sorrow.
"That may be, but the Inquisition is no longer my concern." His voice was as cold as he had wanted it to be.
"But..."
"There's nothing left!" The pain, still raw broke through his barriers, the anger. He could not conceal it. "It's over!"
That was when the elven girl decided to be idiotic. She pushed herself up in the bed, crying out in pain as the wound strained. Immediately, her companions rushed to the bed, the scout abandoning his interrogation. As he caught her dark gaze, he wondered if that had been her intention.
"Lie down, idiot." The dwarf told her. "You were dying not an hour ago."
His movements stiff, Solas approached the bed, kneeling down at the girl's side. He laid a hand over hers. She'd hurt herself with that stunt, he could feel it. She was looking into his eyes, almost as though in a trance. He gazed back, noting the flecks of gold and green in the warm brown.
"Are there wolves here?" She blurted out.
What a strange thing to say. There were always wolves near him in the Fade, or spirits who took the form of wolves. But she, an ordinary elf couldn't possibly have seen...
"Wolves? Not on this bit of the coast." Eagan replied, a deep furrow still across his brow. He was suspicious of him now, Solas knew."Why?"
"I heard them in my dreams. It felt like they were grieving." She shook her head.
"You were in pain, kid." Malika pointed out. "No wolves here. Just a dream."
"I'm not a child." She muttered, struggling to get up again. She managed to swing her legs out of the bed.
"Yes, you are, da'len." Solas's voice was gentle with her. "You're young, and hurt and need rest. It will take days before you're ready for any kind of travel."
"I'm not a child!" She insisted, tears pricking her eyes. "I used to be an apprentice hunter, with a clan, and a family, until the war. And then everyone started dying. I had to kill...so many people, to save the people I cared about." She pushed away those memories. "Somehow, I lived, and I survived the travel to the coast. I travelled across the sea, and one of my best friends died of illness in the hold. I held his hand until he passed away. So many people died in that hot, stinking place. Then I joined a new clan. They needed a halla keeper, and they chose me, out of necessity, I suppose. I was barely twenty, but when they marked me with the vallaslin, I did not cry out." Her breathing had become painful, raw.
"I..." Solas tried to speak but she cut him off. He wanted to say that he understood, surprised by her sudden anger, her vehemence. Her eyes looked much older than her few years when he looked into them now.
"And then I saw my new family slaughtered, lost my brother, and I gave myself into slavery and abuse to save the survivors. Do not think of me as a child, Master Solas, for it has been a long time since I was so innocent."
She coughed suddenly, exhausted, her face white. She slipped her hand beneath the blankets still surrounding her. When she withdrew it, it was wet with blood.
"Oh. I'm bleeding." The girl murmured.
She fell into his arms, her body feeling small, feminine and frail. Blood seeped out onto his hands. He could count every freckle on her face, her cheek almost pressed against his own. "She's torn the wound. The healing was still fresh." He sighed. He was involved now, whether he liked it or not. "What's her name?"
"Laisa."
"I'm sorry." The girl, Laisa, whispered to him. She looked defeated he thought, more fragile than ever.
"I have had far worse things shouted at me, da'len." He found himself smiling, "And for future reference, I am no one's master."
"I'm sorry that you're in so much pain." She whispered again, her eyes unfocused. "I can see it in your eyes. You've lost everything. I'm sorry." Her eyes closed.
For several long fraught moments, he just stared at the bleeding girl as her friends stripped away blood soaked bandages. How strange she was, how perceptive! How did she know so much about him? This Laisa, this elven girl, barely more than child, something about her intrigued him.
"Do something!" Malika shouted at him. "Don't just stand there."
It snapped him from his trance and he placed his hands on the girl once more, repairing the damage she had caused herself. It would be a while before she woke again. She would live now, this Laisa. He should go.
He had a world to reshape, lofty ambitions to begin pursuing all over again. And yet, he didn't move, instead taking a seat on a pallet on the floor. He wanted to talk to her.
"I'm going to head to the camp." The scout said, "Discuss us returning to the Inquisiton, see if I can get some supplies."
"I'll stay here." Solas said to his own surprise, "Just until I know the healing took."
He knew the scout was suspicious. He wasn't an idiot. It was easy to see that Solas was hiding something, which meant he perhaps didn't have long before people came looking. The dwarf was watching him with eyes that seemed almost amused. "It's kind of you." She nodded to Laisa. "Helping her like this." He said nothing. "Not much of a talker, are you?"
"There's just something about her." He said reluctantly.
"I know what you mean." Malika laughed, "I'd guard her with my life. But slavery forms strange bonds." She kept trying to entice conversation from him but was eventually defeated by his morose silence and went to sleep. Morning broke, dry and clear. "I'm going in search of fresh water." The dwarf announced. "Keep an eye on her, won't you?"
Solas sighed heavily. What was he doing? He'd lost valuable time, sitting around watching the injured elf sleep. He was on his feet, almost ready to leave when her eyes opened,
"Where are they?" She asked him, her voice raspy.
"The scout went to see those Inquisition members camped further down the beach. Malika went for fresh water." He informed her. "You almost killed yourself, again."
"Ir abelas." She closed her eyes, "I've been a burden to you, when you're carrying so much already."
There it was again. That strange perceptiveness that seemed to radiate from her, a kind of empathy he'd rarely seen. "Why do you say that?" He sounded curious.
"I see it in your eyes. In your smile. I know what pain is. May I ask you a question?" He nodded. "You're Dalish. But you have no vallaslin."
"Is that a question?" He smiled, "The short answer is I see no need for one. The long answer is, well...too long for you to understand, right now. You should go to the Inquisition, da'len. They will perhaps ease some of your own burdens."
"I will. Perhaps my surviving friends made it there. I only regret not being able to bury my clan in the way I should have. The trees should grow high, and beautiful over their bodies, but they will not. My brother..." Her voice darkened with pain and it hurt him unexpectedly. Someone so young should not have to endure such pain, he thought. He'd had lifetimes. He'd earned his pain.
He placed a hand on her shoulder, almost tentatively, trying to comfort her. He told her funny stories of the Inquisition and about Skyhold. Lavellan had always enjoyed his tales of adventure too.
There was almost a feeling of redemption, watching her smile, knowing that it was he who had brought it.
"Are you sure you won't return to Skyhold with us?" She asked him.
What was he doing? Fen'Harel could not be so weak, so soft hearted. He was the Dread Wolf, he was trickery and destruction.
"I have tarried here too long." He rose abruptly, distancing himself from her, "I have a long road to walk. Dareth shiral, da'len. Laisa..."
He knew he would remember that name.