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Description
Rumors came to me, even in the distant corners of the Wilds where I hid, that the darkspawn did not disperse as completely as they should, but lingered in the lands. For a time I considered if perhaps the ritual had complicated matters in this way, that perhaps the darkspawn could sense the child distantly within my own womb. I was careful where I tarried and kept clear of any tainted areas where the spawn might hide.

By the time of my travail arrived, I had joined a Chasind tribe, claiming to be a widowed woman whose husband had been killed during the various darkspawn raids along with the rest of my tribe. I explained that I sought a safe place to bear my child, which was true. The tribe had a gifted wise-woman who knew herb lore and was experienced in the birthing of babies, so I felt comfortable that both the child and I would survive the process.

The tribe welcomed me, though with some suspicion. My story was quite plausible but rumors of the Witch of the Wilds still prevailed, though she had not been encountered in some time. The tribe was interested to see if I bore a son or a daughter. In their minds, if the child were a girl then it would be some kind of proof that I was Flemeth. The old stories still had sway, though mistaken they were, and I could only be amused by their foolish superstitions, having lived at the knee of Flemeth herself.

Ciniod arrived in the world with a howl that would have rivaled that Archdemon, or so it seemed to me. His tuft of black hair crowning his scarlet colored head pronounced him as mine, but the midwife was startled to see that his eyes were not blue as most babies born, but the color of deep amber, a gift from his human father. She crowed to see that he was a big, strapping boy and laughed at the tribe's surprise that he was not a girl.

The birth was hard upon my body, and I ached, but when the midwife offered to summon another woman to suckle him so that I might rest, I demanded that she hand my son to me. He eagerly sucked at my breast and I was filled with a wonderful tenderness that eclipsed all the pain experienced with his arrival. His eyes gazed up to me, before drowsing closed with sleep, feeling secure that he was welcome and wanted. My body might well have been boneless for all my weariness, but I could not sleep for many hours until I examined him from crown to heel, marveling at his perfect fingers and toes. To say I was smitten would be an understatement.

The weeks past and ambled into months, as Ciniod grew strong and I grew ever more watchful, worrying. I had not felt Flemeth or seen sign of her in many months. I took it for granted that she would eventually try to find us, to try to take Ciniod. He had been her prize. It was what she had groomed me for, aside from being a new host for her own consciousness, and it would not be in character for her to just surrender.

Eventually the darkspawn incursions abated and the Chasind tribes moved more freely. The land began to heal. The world began to return to its original state. Things lulled to sleep that had once been watchful. People grew complacent. All strove to forget that there had ever been a Blight at all.

I departed from the tribe when Ciniod was near a year old. Some of the men began to eye me as a potential partner. I had enough of partners.

Some nights I felt a longing, as I nuzzled my son's downy head by the fire, listening to his sweet breath, reassuring myself that he was well and near at hand. At such times I allowed a feeling of longing to pass, a desire for what I had lost that I had never truly allowed myself embrace to begin with.

The one that haunted my dreams with desire despised me. The one that should have despised me instead missed me. I could feel it, even at a distance. What had been taken for granted was amputated and could not be returned. Looking at my son I could not regret the action, and yet I rued the result in some fashion. The loneliness was there and it mocked me, the one who had insisted that being alone was preferable.

Once I came across a group of wandering Dalish. They too eyed me with suspicion, but they allowed me to warm myself and my child by the fire. They were not barbaric, though not necessarily hospitable, and offered me something warm to eat. The Keeper watched us from a distance, warily, as if considering something.

During the night, the Keeper finally approached, and sat beside me, "You are like a deer whose ears twitch, waiting for the predator that you know is in the brush. Asha'bellanar has been absent for some time, and yet you wait for her. What have you done to cause you to believe you have garnered her notice?"

"I have something she wants to possess," I stated.

The elf looked at me long, "Considering how lightly you travel, you believe that she either wants you or she wants your child."

I held my silence. I did not wish to discuss my fears with a stranger. The gnawing of it had grown more acute over time and to give it voice would have only made it more real.

"So it is the child you fear to lose, then." The Keeper guessed at my feeling and I did not argue.

She looked at the baby, sleeping in his swaddling, "The child is special, I can sense it. He has a destiny that will shake the world, but it is unclear whether that is for good or for ill. The one comfort I can offer is that he will not face it alone. There is something he requires, there is something he will seek when the time comes."

"What?" I questioned, jerking out of my feigned apathy. The elf could see something and I longed to know how. Even Flemeth could not scry with accuracy, how could this elf claim to? It occurred to me that perhaps the elf might be a threat.

"Atisha, asha*," she reassured me with an even tone, "I am no threat to you or the child. I might be of aid to you, in fact. The boy is not ready for anything Fate may have planned and Asha'bellanar is not one to be dissuaded. There is a possible place you might hide beyond her reach and influence. It is an old place, one only known to my people, but it is risky. Some of what was known has been lost or tainted. If you are willing, tomorrow I shall consult with you further. Tonight you shall stay in my tent."

Then the woman called to a warrior, "Ariane, bring her to my tent. See that she has what she and her son require. Also, speak to our scouts, tell them to be wary. These woods could well have unfriendly eyes. Report anything unusual to me."

"Ma nuvenin**, Keeper," the elven warrior responded, carrying out the older woman's request.

My mind roiled with what had been conveyed. I had the potential to find a safe place to raise my son until he would be able to defend himself. The thought made me near giddy, but at the same time I did not trust it. What if the Keeper turned on me or demanded some kind of boon from me. I had nothing to give, nothing to offer.

I slept that night and considered what it would take to ensure my son's safety.

Description
Rumors came to me, even in the distant corners of the Wilds where I hid, that the darkspawn did not disperse as completely as they should, but lingered in the lands. For a time I considered if perhaps the ritual had complicated matters in this way, that perhaps the darkspawn could sense the child distantly within my own womb. I was careful where I tarried and kept clear of any tainted areas where the spawn might hide.

By the time of my travail arrived, I had joined a Chasind tribe, claiming to be a widowed woman whose husband had been killed during the various darkspawn raids along with the rest of my tribe. I explained that I sought a safe place to bear my child, which was true. The tribe had a gifted wise-woman who knew herb lore and was experienced in the birthing of babies, so I felt comfortable that both the child and I would survive the process.

The tribe welcomed me, though with some suspicion. My story was quite plausible but rumors of the Witch of the Wilds still prevailed, though she had not been encountered in some time. The tribe was interested to see if I bore a son or a daughter. In their minds, if the child were a girl then it would be some kind of proof that I was Flemeth. The old stories still had sway, though mistaken they were, and I could only be amused by their foolish superstitions, having lived at the knee of Flemeth herself.

Ciniod arrived in the world with a howl that would have rivaled that Archdemon, or so it seemed to me. His tuft of black hair crowning his scarlet colored head pronounced him as mine, but the midwife was startled to see that his eyes were not blue as most babies born, but the color of deep amber, a gift from his human father. She crowed to see that he was a big, strapping boy and laughed at the tribe's surprise that he was not a girl.

The birth was hard upon my body, and I ached, but when the midwife offered to summon another woman to suckle him so that I might rest, I demanded that she hand my son to me. He eagerly sucked at my breast and I was filled with a wonderful tenderness that eclipsed all the pain experienced with his arrival. His eyes gazed up to me, before drowsing closed with sleep, feeling secure that he was welcome and wanted. My body might well have been boneless for all my weariness, but I could not sleep for many hours until I examined him from crown to heel, marveling at his perfect fingers and toes. To say I was smitten would be an understatement.

The weeks past and ambled into months, as Ciniod grew strong and I grew ever more watchful, worrying. I had not felt Flemeth or seen sign of her in many months. I took it for granted that she would eventually try to find us, to try to take Ciniod. He had been her prize. It was what she had groomed me for, aside from being a new host for her own consciousness, and it would not be in character for her to just surrender.

Eventually the darkspawn incursions abated and the Chasind tribes moved more freely. The land began to heal. The world began to return to its original state. Things lulled to sleep that had once been watchful. People grew complacent. All strove to forget that there had ever been a Blight at all.

I departed from the tribe when Ciniod was near a year old. Some of the men began to eye me as a potential partner. I had enough of partners.

Some nights I felt a longing, as I nuzzled my son's downy head by the fire, listening to his sweet breath, reassuring myself that he was well and near at hand. At such times I allowed a feeling of longing to pass, a desire for what I had lost that I had never truly allowed myself embrace to begin with.

The one that haunted my dreams with desire despised me. The one that should have despised me instead missed me. I could feel it, even at a distance. What had been taken for granted was amputated and could not be returned. Looking at my son I could not regret the action, and yet I rued the result in some fashion. The loneliness was there and it mocked me, the one who had insisted that being alone was preferable.

Once I came across a group of wandering Dalish. They too eyed me with suspicion, but they allowed me to warm myself and my child by the fire. They were not barbaric, though not necessarily hospitable, and offered me something warm to eat. The Keeper watched us from a distance, warily, as if considering something.

During the night, the Keeper finally approached, and sat beside me, "You are like a deer whose ears twitch, waiting for the predator that you know is in the brush. Asha'bellanar has been absent for some time, and yet you wait for her. What have you done to cause you to believe you have garnered her notice?"

"I have something she wants to possess," I stated.

The elf looked at me long, "Considering how lightly you travel, you believe that she either wants you or she wants your child."

I held my silence. I did not wish to discuss my fears with a stranger. The gnawing of it had grown more acute over time and to give it voice would have only made it more real.

"So it is the child you fear to lose, then." The Keeper guessed at my feeling and I did not argue.

She looked at the baby, sleeping in his swaddling, "The child is special, I can sense it. He has a destiny that will shake the world, but it is unclear whether that is for good or for ill. The one comfort I can offer is that he will not face it alone. There is something he requires, there is something he will seek when the time comes."

"What?" I questioned, jerking out of my feigned apathy. The elf could see something and I longed to know how. Even Flemeth could not scry with accuracy, how could this elf claim to? It occurred to me that perhaps the elf might be a threat.

"Atisha, asha*," she reassured me with an even tone, "I am no threat to you or the child. I might be of aid to you, in fact. The boy is not ready for anything Fate may have planned and Asha'bellanar is not one to be dissuaded. There is a possible place you might hide beyond her reach and influence. It is an old place, one only known to my people, but it is risky. Some of what was known has been lost or tainted. If you are willing, tomorrow I shall consult with you further. Tonight you shall stay in my tent."

Then the woman called to a warrior, "Ariane, bring her to my tent. See that she has what she and her son require. Also, speak to our scouts, tell them to be wary. These woods could well have unfriendly eyes. Report anything unusual to me."

"Ma nuvenin**, Keeper," the elven warrior responded, carrying out the older woman's request.

My mind roiled with what had been conveyed. I had the potential to find a safe place to raise my son until he would be able to defend himself. The thought made me near giddy, but at the same time I did not trust it. What if the Keeper turned on me or demanded some kind of boon from me. I had nothing to give, nothing to offer.

I slept that night and considered what it would take to ensure my son's safety.