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Description
    Green grass was becoming visible under the thinning blankets of snow. Some good weather had come this way, making spring appear earlier than normal in Ferelden. Chantal would not need so many of her furs to keep herself warm now that the weather was getting better, so she tied the extras up in bundles, intending to take them to a market and trade them for coin or supplies. She would be away from the tavern for a few days, but that would be alright. She had no new assignment. Revas knew where she was going, and no one else would even notice her missing. A little alone time away may be good for her.
   The few bundles strapped to her back, Chantal made her way to Calenhad’s Brook. Denerim would have the fatter pockets to haggle with, but Calenhad’s Brook was closer, not to mention safer. Her journey along Two Rivers Road was uneventful and empty, save for a couple of dwarven caravans that passed her without a second glance. She thought one of the bodyguards sneered at her, but it could have been her imagination, or the bodyguard’s overprotectiveness of their current job. By the time she reached the small city, it was already mid-afternoon. If she had taken just a few extra hours to bundle the furs, the sun would be setting and the shops would be closing. Lucky her, she thought.
   She scoured the marketplace, searching for artisans that would be interested in purchasing her merchandise for their crafts. They were the best to do business with. Better than cheap merchants that would give her a low price and then charge the artisans more than triple. A few these merchants stopped her when they saw what she carried and tried to free her of her wares, but she would smile at them and artfully refuse them. Chantal eventually found a leatherworker. The artisan was delighted with what she had to offer and immediately offered her a few starting prices. A small handful of silver and copper coins, plus free patchwork for her jerkin, gauntlets and boots. An excellent bargain. “Come back in two days time, and I’ll get right to work on it!” he promised. It would take her a few more days than she intended, but it would be worth it to have whole clothing again. Maybe she should find a tailor, while she was at it, and see about patchwork for her shirt and trousers. Ah, and maybe she could finally find an artist too! The trip to the city was a good idea after all.
   Trade was always good this time of year. Wintersend. A holiday to celebrate the coming of spring. Really, for Fereldans, she believed it simply meant the weather wouldn’t be as cold and that traveling would be safer. Trade routes would fully open up again, and farmers would start clearing off their fields for the new season. She heard that some places had tournaments, others had theatre festivals. Some celebrated Wintersend as a time for new beginnings, and arranged their wedding ceremonies around it. All she really did for Wintersend in the last few years was trade in her excess furs. Nothing special. She paused to think of anything her father may have done to make the holiday just a little bit special for her and her brothers, but nothing really came to mind.
   Chantal shook her head to herself, and put the thought out of her mind. She walked pass stalls selling food and cloth, but her eyes lingered yearningly on the stalls selling necklaces, earrings and rings of diamonds and rubies and sapphires. She chewed her lip. It was tempting. Oh so tempting. She decided to resist. At least until she left the city. It would do her no good to do it now while she needed to stay for a few days.
   Children playing in the street failed to notice her, and one of them accidentally bumped into her. She shot her attention to them; the young boy had fallen on his behind. He stared up at her timidly while a even younger girl approached cautiously to help him up. Both eyed her like they expected her to yell at them for being careless and not watching where they were going. She said nothing as they mumbled “Sorry” in hushed tones, only watched with a softening gaze as the children scurried off with the rest of their friends. The children reminded her of her only job since arriving at the Merry Mabari. The experience with Caleb still rattled her mind. It gave her a whole new perspective on the mage matter. It gave her nightmares, made her wonder “What if the same happened to Anton?” She confessed no love for mages or magic, but her brother and the state of his sanity was an entirely different matter.
   And there was yet something else that plagued her mind since that unfortunate encounter. Something that made her yearn for the inside of Denerim’s gates. She looked up, finally noticing that she was in front of a Chantry chapel. A Chanter stood outside by the Chanter’s board with yet another child standing beside her. Children were everywhere, it seemed. Chantal took a moment to decide what she wanted to do, then she entered the chapel. If she couldn’t enter Denerim for what she wanted, maybe she could bring what she wanted out of Denerim.

She had to wait for a reply. She had things to do, so waiting was not that big of a chore. But she was anxious. What if she was denied? Chantal could not see it happening, but the possibility was still high, and would be exceedingly hurtful. She realised that she had not wanted something so badly in a long time.
   Her boots were fitted snugly to her feet; “They are in really good shape for how worn they are!” the leatherworker remarked cheerfully. Some repairs did have to be made, particularly with the sole, but the leatherworker did not leave her feet bare for very long. Her jerkin, on the other hand, needed more patchwork. “I’ll be a day with it,” he told her as he took it and examined the tears.
   That was that. She left the little shop with her cloak drawn tightly. She felt surprisingly naked without her jerkin and already couldn’t wait to have it back. A shiver ran up her spine from an unwelcoming breeze. She considered getting a room at the local inn for the night, now that she had less clothing to protect her from the cold. That was the last thing she needed, to freeze to death.
   “Excuse me, miss?”
   Chantal jumped when she was suddenly spoken to. A man stood there, watching her from under his cowl. He carried a satchel overflowing with paper and small bundles. Surprisingly, she recognized him. “You’re the courier I sent to Denerim, right?”
   “That is correct, miss. I have a letter for you.”
   “That would be the reply I’m waiting for.” She drew in a breath and her heart skipped a beat while the courier fished the small piece of paper out of his satchel. He handed it to her, and waited patiently. She stared at the scrawls across the parchment, her green eyes squinting as she tried to make sense of the words. She never did learn to read properly. “... can you read it to me?” she finally asked the courier sheepishly.
   He was expecting it. “Of course, miss.” He took the letter back and read “Meet me outside the city, just outside the gates.” Short, simple and to the point.
   Her face lit up like a glowstone. That was a good and promising reply. She handed the courier a couple of coppers for his services and immediately went to the meeting place. She could only hope that it wasn’t a trap. It wouldn’t be a trap. Why would it be a trap? Outside the gates, Chantal looked around. More of the snow had melted away, and she could already see little buds popping out of the freshly unfrozen earth. The air smelled of rich soil. It was only a matter of time before that same air would be filled with the scents of roses and lavenders and other manner of sweet flowers.
   She felt a tug on her trousers and heard a melodious giggling that pulled her gaze to her feet. A little girl, no older than four, smiled brightly up at Chantal, the girl’s pale blue eyes filled with wonder. Her soft face was shaped by her thick coppery curls. She wore a braided headband with brightly coloured cloth flowers woven into the design. The white and pink dress she wore looked like something a nobleman’s child would wear, though it was likely made from cheaper materials. But it was beautiful on the child. She looked like a little spring princess. “I thought it would be appropriate to dress Rhiannon up,” gently said the voice of an older woman. “After all, it isn’t every day a little girl gets to meet her mummy.”
   Tears stung her eyes as Chantal looked up. The older woman watched with a smile on her rosy lips, her dark, glistening eyes as gentle and as kind as her voice. “Ilena,” she greeted with a croaked voice. “You came.”
   Ilena chuckled warmly. She took a step closer, her honey blonde hair wafting gently with the breeze. “How could I not? with my daughter so close.”
   “I thought–”
   “You thought what? That we wouldn’t love you anymore? Chantal, my dear, you are, and forever will be, our daughter. There is nothing you can do that would stop us from loving you. I’m just happy to know that you are alive.” Ilena pulled Chantal into a loving embrace, and both were consumed by their tears.

For privacy, Chantal led the small group a little ways into the nearby forest. From where they sat, they could still see the city’s gates. They could also see more predominate signs of the changing season. There was more green along the forest floor, and Chantal saw a budding wildflower getting ready for an early bloom. A tiny early butterfly fluttered around the clearing and was being chased by little Rhiannon. Chantal smiled as she watched the little girl. “She’s growing up nicely,” she commented.
   “Oh, that she is. She’s a little small compared to the other children her age, but that doesn’t deter her at all. She is happy and healthy, with lots of little friends.” Ilena eyed Chantal curiously, a mountain of questions waiting to burst out. “You asked for only me and Rhiannon in your letter.”
   “I did,” Chantal answered with a curt nod. “What did you tell Daddy?”
   “I told him I was going on a little trip with Rhiannon, that some friends from my childhood were in the area.” Ilena paused and chewed on her lip. “He worries about you, you know. All the time. Constantly wondering where you are and if you’re still alive. Or if you’re rotting on the side of the road somewhere, forgotten. It would do him a world of good if he could see you, just once--”
   “No.”
   She tried three more times to convince Chantal to see her father, but she was abruptly cut off before she could finish the thought each and every time. “... are you afraid of seeing him?” Chantal didn’t respond. She ignored the question to watch Rhiannon, who continued to find insects or small animals to chase around the clearing. The butterfly had flown out of reach, but a grasshopper quickly attracted her attention. The little girl would shriek with laughter that echoed - the guardsmen at the gate could surely hear her. Chantal wondered how long it would take before someone began to worry and came to investigate the sound. She heard Ilena sigh in her defeat, but the older woman quickly put a smile to her lips again. “What have you been up to these last few years?”
   That was a question Chantal was more willing to answer. “Camping, mostly. Found a place not to far from here, recently, that I’ve taken a liking to. Don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, but it offers some work.”
   “What kind of work?” her stepmother asked with genuine interest.
   “Mercenary work, mostly. Hired blades or muscle. Sometimes investigative.”
   “Have you made any new friends at this place?”
   She snorted. “Come on, Ilena. When have you known me to have friends?” She shook her head, and laughed like some rich joke had been made. “There’s a man I detest more than anyone I’ve ever met before, and a few people I get along with. No one I would ever call friend.” If she stuck around long enough, maybe that would change. But, until then, those were the two categories she would use.
   “Chantal, I know that can’t be true,” Ilena said to her with a scowl of disapproval. “Where did Rhiannon come from if not from love and friendship?” When Chantal hesitated to answer, Ilena gasped and blushed at the other possibilities. “Oh, Chantal, you didn’t!”
   “What? No! Well, there were some people like that, but not him. He...” She stopped, her heart suddenly aching and her voice caught in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about him, yet she yearned to. With someone. Anyone.
   Sensing her distress, Ilena laid a gentle hand upon Chantal’s shoulder. “Tell me about him.”
   Chantal mauled over her thoughts. She didn’t think she could do as Ilena requested. But, given the chance, memories broke through like they only happened yesterday. It was startling. She didn’t remember things well. But she remembered him. “His name is Corok. He was... kind, and gentle. And really good to me. He taught me new skills I could use to survive. He told me stories, and he took care of me. He... saved my life when others wanted to leave me to die.”
   “He sounds like a great man. I wish I could have met– How do you mean he saved your life?!”
   “I got lost. It was really cold and I got very sick.”
   “Where were you?”
   “... the Korcari Wilds.” The horrified expression on Ilena’s face said everything. She knew. There was no use in keeping it a secret. “Corok is a Chasind Wilder,” Chantal stated with a sigh.
   She waited to be scolded. Or for Ilena to recoil from her. She wasn’t sure how people would react to knowing she stayed within a Wilder village, let alone willingly slept with a Wilder man. Disgusted, perhaps? No different than how people reacted to an interracial relationship between a human and an elf, she supposed. The barbarians were unruly, bloodthirsty savages that lived outside of Chantry law. They worshiped false gods instead of the Maker, and were therefore a primitive race that should be avoided and looked down upon. Fereldans were above them. More like Fereldans didn’t understand them. Ilena was a former sister of the Chantry. Her opinion of the barbarians and their Maker-less ways would have been worse than the average Andrastian Fereldan, she assumed. Chantal was surprised, however, when Ilena remained silent for quite a few moments. She looked over to her stepmother, and could see the maelstrom of questions and conflicting thoughts. She remembered now the reason why she never told anyone about Corok before. “I don’t understand,” Ilena finally breathed quietly.
   Chantal frowned. “Don’t understand what?”
   “Why didn’t you stay with him?” She stared, her mouth agape. That was completely unexpected. So unexpected that Chantal could not think of a proper response. Her stepmother continued. “He was clearly different from these... others you claim to have been with, wasn’t he? You cared for him deeply, and it’s painful for you to remember him.”
   “... how can you be so certain?”
   “You may not like talking about your feelings, Chantal, but it’s written all over your face when you speak of him.” She scowled to herself. She couldn’t tell which was worse; that her stepmother could still read her like an open book, or that she apparently hasn’t changed at all since she fled from Denerim. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Ilena asked with unyielding certainty. “You’re still in love with him.”
   Chantal wanted to tell her “No, you’re wrong”, but she couldn’t deny it, not even to herself. Her heart ached too much. “I... think so.” Colour rushed to her cheeks. She felt oddly exposed. She avoided Ilena’s all knowing gaze, and focused on something more important than her feelings. Rhiannon was sitting in the middle of the clearing, continuing to mind her own business while the adults talked. Chantal decided to get up, to sit and talk with Rhiannon. However uncomfortable that could potentially be, she couldn’t stand sitting there talking to Ilena.
   Rhiannon looked up at Chantal when she noticed her, her pale blue eyes sparkling with delight. “You’re gonna play with me?”
   Chantal couldn’t help but smile. “Sure. What would you like to play?”
   “Hide and seek! Hide and seek! Tag! You’re it!”
   The little girl was up and off to find a hiding place before Chantal could blink. Her squeals of laughter made Chantal chuckle. She watched as the little girl ran off into the forest, and did her best to ignore Ilena approaching her. Despite that, there was something she wanted to ask her stepmother. Something that just slipped out without her meaning to. “Can I keep her for a couple of days?”
   Ilena’s face lit up so brightly, she almost sparkled. “Yes! Of course you can! Oh, I know, why don’t you spend the entire week with her? Throughout Wintersend. A couple of days is hardly enough to get to know her.”
   “... are you sure? I’m not exactly a parent.”
   “But you are her mummy. She needs you, as much as you need her.”
   A week with Rhiannon. Could she handle it? It almost seemed like she didn’t have a choice. Either that, or Ilena was planning something. Chantal sighed; the little girl was waiting to be found.

Description
    Green grass was becoming visible under the thinning blankets of snow. Some good weather had come this way, making spring appear earlier than normal in Ferelden. Chantal would not need so many of her furs to keep herself warm now that the weather was getting better, so she tied the extras up in bundles, intending to take them to a market and trade them for coin or supplies. She would be away from the tavern for a few days, but that would be alright. She had no new assignment. Revas knew where she was going, and no one else would even notice her missing. A little alone time away may be good for her.
   The few bundles strapped to her back, Chantal made her way to Calenhad’s Brook. Denerim would have the fatter pockets to haggle with, but Calenhad’s Brook was closer, not to mention safer. Her journey along Two Rivers Road was uneventful and empty, save for a couple of dwarven caravans that passed her without a second glance. She thought one of the bodyguards sneered at her, but it could have been her imagination, or the bodyguard’s overprotectiveness of their current job. By the time she reached the small city, it was already mid-afternoon. If she had taken just a few extra hours to bundle the furs, the sun would be setting and the shops would be closing. Lucky her, she thought.
   She scoured the marketplace, searching for artisans that would be interested in purchasing her merchandise for their crafts. They were the best to do business with. Better than cheap merchants that would give her a low price and then charge the artisans more than triple. A few these merchants stopped her when they saw what she carried and tried to free her of her wares, but she would smile at them and artfully refuse them. Chantal eventually found a leatherworker. The artisan was delighted with what she had to offer and immediately offered her a few starting prices. A small handful of silver and copper coins, plus free patchwork for her jerkin, gauntlets and boots. An excellent bargain. “Come back in two days time, and I’ll get right to work on it!” he promised. It would take her a few more days than she intended, but it would be worth it to have whole clothing again. Maybe she should find a tailor, while she was at it, and see about patchwork for her shirt and trousers. Ah, and maybe she could finally find an artist too! The trip to the city was a good idea after all.
   Trade was always good this time of year. Wintersend. A holiday to celebrate the coming of spring. Really, for Fereldans, she believed it simply meant the weather wouldn’t be as cold and that traveling would be safer. Trade routes would fully open up again, and farmers would start clearing off their fields for the new season. She heard that some places had tournaments, others had theatre festivals. Some celebrated Wintersend as a time for new beginnings, and arranged their wedding ceremonies around it. All she really did for Wintersend in the last few years was trade in her excess furs. Nothing special. She paused to think of anything her father may have done to make the holiday just a little bit special for her and her brothers, but nothing really came to mind.
   Chantal shook her head to herself, and put the thought out of her mind. She walked pass stalls selling food and cloth, but her eyes lingered yearningly on the stalls selling necklaces, earrings and rings of diamonds and rubies and sapphires. She chewed her lip. It was tempting. Oh so tempting. She decided to resist. At least until she left the city. It would do her no good to do it now while she needed to stay for a few days.
   Children playing in the street failed to notice her, and one of them accidentally bumped into her. She shot her attention to them; the young boy had fallen on his behind. He stared up at her timidly while a even younger girl approached cautiously to help him up. Both eyed her like they expected her to yell at them for being careless and not watching where they were going. She said nothing as they mumbled “Sorry” in hushed tones, only watched with a softening gaze as the children scurried off with the rest of their friends. The children reminded her of her only job since arriving at the Merry Mabari. The experience with Caleb still rattled her mind. It gave her a whole new perspective on the mage matter. It gave her nightmares, made her wonder “What if the same happened to Anton?” She confessed no love for mages or magic, but her brother and the state of his sanity was an entirely different matter.
   And there was yet something else that plagued her mind since that unfortunate encounter. Something that made her yearn for the inside of Denerim’s gates. She looked up, finally noticing that she was in front of a Chantry chapel. A Chanter stood outside by the Chanter’s board with yet another child standing beside her. Children were everywhere, it seemed. Chantal took a moment to decide what she wanted to do, then she entered the chapel. If she couldn’t enter Denerim for what she wanted, maybe she could bring what she wanted out of Denerim.

She had to wait for a reply. She had things to do, so waiting was not that big of a chore. But she was anxious. What if she was denied? Chantal could not see it happening, but the possibility was still high, and would be exceedingly hurtful. She realised that she had not wanted something so badly in a long time.
   Her boots were fitted snugly to her feet; “They are in really good shape for how worn they are!” the leatherworker remarked cheerfully. Some repairs did have to be made, particularly with the sole, but the leatherworker did not leave her feet bare for very long. Her jerkin, on the other hand, needed more patchwork. “I’ll be a day with it,” he told her as he took it and examined the tears.
   That was that. She left the little shop with her cloak drawn tightly. She felt surprisingly naked without her jerkin and already couldn’t wait to have it back. A shiver ran up her spine from an unwelcoming breeze. She considered getting a room at the local inn for the night, now that she had less clothing to protect her from the cold. That was the last thing she needed, to freeze to death.
   “Excuse me, miss?”
   Chantal jumped when she was suddenly spoken to. A man stood there, watching her from under his cowl. He carried a satchel overflowing with paper and small bundles. Surprisingly, she recognized him. “You’re the courier I sent to Denerim, right?”
   “That is correct, miss. I have a letter for you.”
   “That would be the reply I’m waiting for.” She drew in a breath and her heart skipped a beat while the courier fished the small piece of paper out of his satchel. He handed it to her, and waited patiently. She stared at the scrawls across the parchment, her green eyes squinting as she tried to make sense of the words. She never did learn to read properly. “... can you read it to me?” she finally asked the courier sheepishly.
   He was expecting it. “Of course, miss.” He took the letter back and read “Meet me outside the city, just outside the gates.” Short, simple and to the point.
   Her face lit up like a glowstone. That was a good and promising reply. She handed the courier a couple of coppers for his services and immediately went to the meeting place. She could only hope that it wasn’t a trap. It wouldn’t be a trap. Why would it be a trap? Outside the gates, Chantal looked around. More of the snow had melted away, and she could already see little buds popping out of the freshly unfrozen earth. The air smelled of rich soil. It was only a matter of time before that same air would be filled with the scents of roses and lavenders and other manner of sweet flowers.
   She felt a tug on her trousers and heard a melodious giggling that pulled her gaze to her feet. A little girl, no older than four, smiled brightly up at Chantal, the girl’s pale blue eyes filled with wonder. Her soft face was shaped by her thick coppery curls. She wore a braided headband with brightly coloured cloth flowers woven into the design. The white and pink dress she wore looked like something a nobleman’s child would wear, though it was likely made from cheaper materials. But it was beautiful on the child. She looked like a little spring princess. “I thought it would be appropriate to dress Rhiannon up,” gently said the voice of an older woman. “After all, it isn’t every day a little girl gets to meet her mummy.”
   Tears stung her eyes as Chantal looked up. The older woman watched with a smile on her rosy lips, her dark, glistening eyes as gentle and as kind as her voice. “Ilena,” she greeted with a croaked voice. “You came.”
   Ilena chuckled warmly. She took a step closer, her honey blonde hair wafting gently with the breeze. “How could I not? with my daughter so close.”
   “I thought–”
   “You thought what? That we wouldn’t love you anymore? Chantal, my dear, you are, and forever will be, our daughter. There is nothing you can do that would stop us from loving you. I’m just happy to know that you are alive.” Ilena pulled Chantal into a loving embrace, and both were consumed by their tears.

For privacy, Chantal led the small group a little ways into the nearby forest. From where they sat, they could still see the city’s gates. They could also see more predominate signs of the changing season. There was more green along the forest floor, and Chantal saw a budding wildflower getting ready for an early bloom. A tiny early butterfly fluttered around the clearing and was being chased by little Rhiannon. Chantal smiled as she watched the little girl. “She’s growing up nicely,” she commented.
   “Oh, that she is. She’s a little small compared to the other children her age, but that doesn’t deter her at all. She is happy and healthy, with lots of little friends.” Ilena eyed Chantal curiously, a mountain of questions waiting to burst out. “You asked for only me and Rhiannon in your letter.”
   “I did,” Chantal answered with a curt nod. “What did you tell Daddy?”
   “I told him I was going on a little trip with Rhiannon, that some friends from my childhood were in the area.” Ilena paused and chewed on her lip. “He worries about you, you know. All the time. Constantly wondering where you are and if you’re still alive. Or if you’re rotting on the side of the road somewhere, forgotten. It would do him a world of good if he could see you, just once--”
   “No.”
   She tried three more times to convince Chantal to see her father, but she was abruptly cut off before she could finish the thought each and every time. “... are you afraid of seeing him?” Chantal didn’t respond. She ignored the question to watch Rhiannon, who continued to find insects or small animals to chase around the clearing. The butterfly had flown out of reach, but a grasshopper quickly attracted her attention. The little girl would shriek with laughter that echoed - the guardsmen at the gate could surely hear her. Chantal wondered how long it would take before someone began to worry and came to investigate the sound. She heard Ilena sigh in her defeat, but the older woman quickly put a smile to her lips again. “What have you been up to these last few years?”
   That was a question Chantal was more willing to answer. “Camping, mostly. Found a place not to far from here, recently, that I’ve taken a liking to. Don’t know how long I’ll be staying there, but it offers some work.”
   “What kind of work?” her stepmother asked with genuine interest.
   “Mercenary work, mostly. Hired blades or muscle. Sometimes investigative.”
   “Have you made any new friends at this place?”
   She snorted. “Come on, Ilena. When have you known me to have friends?” She shook her head, and laughed like some rich joke had been made. “There’s a man I detest more than anyone I’ve ever met before, and a few people I get along with. No one I would ever call friend.” If she stuck around long enough, maybe that would change. But, until then, those were the two categories she would use.
   “Chantal, I know that can’t be true,” Ilena said to her with a scowl of disapproval. “Where did Rhiannon come from if not from love and friendship?” When Chantal hesitated to answer, Ilena gasped and blushed at the other possibilities. “Oh, Chantal, you didn’t!”
   “What? No! Well, there were some people like that, but not him. He...” She stopped, her heart suddenly aching and her voice caught in her throat. She didn’t want to talk about him, yet she yearned to. With someone. Anyone.
   Sensing her distress, Ilena laid a gentle hand upon Chantal’s shoulder. “Tell me about him.”
   Chantal mauled over her thoughts. She didn’t think she could do as Ilena requested. But, given the chance, memories broke through like they only happened yesterday. It was startling. She didn’t remember things well. But she remembered him. “His name is Corok. He was... kind, and gentle. And really good to me. He taught me new skills I could use to survive. He told me stories, and he took care of me. He... saved my life when others wanted to leave me to die.”
   “He sounds like a great man. I wish I could have met– How do you mean he saved your life?!”
   “I got lost. It was really cold and I got very sick.”
   “Where were you?”
   “... the Korcari Wilds.” The horrified expression on Ilena’s face said everything. She knew. There was no use in keeping it a secret. “Corok is a Chasind Wilder,” Chantal stated with a sigh.
   She waited to be scolded. Or for Ilena to recoil from her. She wasn’t sure how people would react to knowing she stayed within a Wilder village, let alone willingly slept with a Wilder man. Disgusted, perhaps? No different than how people reacted to an interracial relationship between a human and an elf, she supposed. The barbarians were unruly, bloodthirsty savages that lived outside of Chantry law. They worshiped false gods instead of the Maker, and were therefore a primitive race that should be avoided and looked down upon. Fereldans were above them. More like Fereldans didn’t understand them. Ilena was a former sister of the Chantry. Her opinion of the barbarians and their Maker-less ways would have been worse than the average Andrastian Fereldan, she assumed. Chantal was surprised, however, when Ilena remained silent for quite a few moments. She looked over to her stepmother, and could see the maelstrom of questions and conflicting thoughts. She remembered now the reason why she never told anyone about Corok before. “I don’t understand,” Ilena finally breathed quietly.
   Chantal frowned. “Don’t understand what?”
   “Why didn’t you stay with him?” She stared, her mouth agape. That was completely unexpected. So unexpected that Chantal could not think of a proper response. Her stepmother continued. “He was clearly different from these... others you claim to have been with, wasn’t he? You cared for him deeply, and it’s painful for you to remember him.”
   “... how can you be so certain?”
   “You may not like talking about your feelings, Chantal, but it’s written all over your face when you speak of him.” She scowled to herself. She couldn’t tell which was worse; that her stepmother could still read her like an open book, or that she apparently hasn’t changed at all since she fled from Denerim. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Ilena asked with unyielding certainty. “You’re still in love with him.”
   Chantal wanted to tell her “No, you’re wrong”, but she couldn’t deny it, not even to herself. Her heart ached too much. “I... think so.” Colour rushed to her cheeks. She felt oddly exposed. She avoided Ilena’s all knowing gaze, and focused on something more important than her feelings. Rhiannon was sitting in the middle of the clearing, continuing to mind her own business while the adults talked. Chantal decided to get up, to sit and talk with Rhiannon. However uncomfortable that could potentially be, she couldn’t stand sitting there talking to Ilena.
   Rhiannon looked up at Chantal when she noticed her, her pale blue eyes sparkling with delight. “You’re gonna play with me?”
   Chantal couldn’t help but smile. “Sure. What would you like to play?”
   “Hide and seek! Hide and seek! Tag! You’re it!”
   The little girl was up and off to find a hiding place before Chantal could blink. Her squeals of laughter made Chantal chuckle. She watched as the little girl ran off into the forest, and did her best to ignore Ilena approaching her. Despite that, there was something she wanted to ask her stepmother. Something that just slipped out without her meaning to. “Can I keep her for a couple of days?”
   Ilena’s face lit up so brightly, she almost sparkled. “Yes! Of course you can! Oh, I know, why don’t you spend the entire week with her? Throughout Wintersend. A couple of days is hardly enough to get to know her.”
   “... are you sure? I’m not exactly a parent.”
   “But you are her mummy. She needs you, as much as you need her.”
   A week with Rhiannon. Could she handle it? It almost seemed like she didn’t have a choice. Either that, or Ilena was planning something. Chantal sighed; the little girl was waiting to be found.