fic: The Warren (2/4 Run Rabbit)
The Warren
Summary: Everyone has to eat.
A/N: bioware owns dragon age and all them characters. Second part of the Run Rabbit shorts series.
And I think of you when the leaves are brown,
I think of leaves that I have felt against my body on the ground
I think of places where we could go to now
Until they find us 'til they catch us,
'Til they wake us and we drown
Until I know where I am
I'm in a garden of remembering your fingers in my hand,
Were like a book made of sand
Emmy the Great (Two Steps Forward)
She has her fingers down that deep dark hole, the dirt bunching up under her fingernails as she reaches for an animal she can’t even see. Tears are blurring her vision as she twists her head to the side to give herself more room to catch the rabbit.
“We don’t have all day, Warden.” Oghren leans on the handle of his axe.
Ari ignores him. Rufus pushes his nose against her shoulder, trying desperately to fit down the hole with her arms. “No!” He continues to push. “No! Bad boy,” she shouts, twisting to face the Mabari. The dog growls but backs away, confusion in his dark eyes.
Finn has his hands on his knees as he watches her inch closer to the hole, worry etched across his face. Ariane is back at the camp and Ari tries not to think about the pot she probably has boiling. It wasn’t Finn’s idea to reach into the hole and it won’t be him to cook the rabbit so she doesn’t understand what business of his it is to watch her half-crying as she catches their supper.
“Take the dog back to camp will you?” Ari doesn’t apologise for her tone and she doesn’t expect Finn to leave without her. He’s too frightened to wonder around the Brecilian without her. She hates this stupid forest.
“Come here, boy.” Finn pats his legs encouragingly to keep Rufus from trying to burrow his nose back down the hole with her arms in it again. His voice has too much emotion in it so the dog returns to circling around Ari’s prone body. She stretches and stretches until her fingers brush something soft and furry.
Her heart clutches almost painfully.
“I’ve got something,” she says, her voice no more steady than Finn’s.
“Hrm, ‘bout time!” Oghren lifts his double headed axe to his shoulders, bending to see down the hole. Ari’s arms still crowd the space as she tries to grip the creature tight, her blasted hands shaking in recognition of its tiny body.
“I think it’s a baby. We can’t eat this.”
“I’ll be damned if we’re starving again tonight, Warden.”
“Pull it out, we should at least see.” Finn’s belly rumbles with his words and she knows they’ve gone too long without food to be picky about its size or age. Maker, she curses, why didn’t they follow the Highway back to Lothering!
Wriggling on her belly she pulls her arms out of the hole, the soft little creature in her hands trembling as it wakens. In the dying sunlight they all stare at the tiny ball of fluff, more hair than meat as its wide eyes dart at each of their faces.
“We can’t eat this,” Ari repeats.
“Put it in the bag,” Oghren sensibly pulls out the Hessian sack filled with three mushroom caps and the body of a tawny old hare. There’s barely enough meat between the two animals for one person let alone four.
“We have to eat,” Finn says sadly, his voice quiet as he stares at the little kit.
“I know that,” she can’t help the defensiveness in her voice; she’s the one who will have to slit its throat. “We already have a hare, are you sure that’s not enough?”
Oghren’s braided beard swings as he shakes his head at her.
“Alright, fine, fine.” Ari stands, the kits black beady eyes blinking quickly at the change in height. “Maker,” she mumbles, fiddling for the knife in her belt, leaving the others behind by the hole. She wipes at her eyes with one arm raised, her nose in her elbow as she pretends not to hear Finn call her name.
She doesn’t care that they’ve seen her crying now. It’s nothing new, she thinks, feeling the kit’s new tiny claws in its back legs scratch at her hands. It isn’t like she hasn’t cried herself to sleep more nights than most. She feels sorry for the creature, but Ari knows that really she feels sorrier for herself.
Disgusted by that thought she stoops to a smooth flat-surfaces rock, lowering the kit’s body to it. Ari sniffs, her nose feeling wet and runny as she looks down into its black eyes, its nose twitching back furiously. It is just so small.
“Do it quickly,” she tells herself, twisting her hand so that it lies on its back, still kicking at her. Her knife pauses, the tip barely brushing the thick soft fur of the tiny thing. Ari ducks her head quickly, her eyes squeezed shut as she curses Finn for dropping their supplies down that blighted crevice three days ago. It wasn’t even his fault.
Ari opens her eyes and with one breath runs the sharp knife across its neck in a well-practiced motion. She can feel its heart thumping hard under her thumb and she watches morbidly as the blood bleeds from the cut. The kit’s movements slow until they stop and its eyes lose their bright look.
“There,” she whispers, letting its body go. Ari pulls the sheath attached to her belt around and wipes the blade against the grass by her feet. She puts the knife away and sits back on her haunches, staring at its unmoving body.
She shouldn’t blame Finn but she can’t help it. Ari swipes at her eyes again and clenches her fist against her knee. It feels colder now as the sun sets, the birds are quieter and the grass feels a little wetter underneath the shade of the trees.
“Ari!” she hears Finn call for her. The elf doesn’t answer back, only stares at the dead kit, feeling like a terrible person. Some poor rabbit somewhere is going to come home to a hole without her baby. Ari doesn’t even think of the other bits of soft fur she’d felt down there. One is enough.
“Ari!”
Really she knows why she doesn’t like Finn.
“Ari!” His voice grows distant and she knows the mage has gone the wrong way to look for her. Oghren will be no help to him, so she crosses her arms and leans them against her knees.
She doesn’t like Finn because he knew Anders. He’s told them all stories about the rebel mage and his escape attempts quite freely, she hasn’t even had to subtly worm the information out of him or eavesdrop on his conversations with Ariane. Ari hates that the man himself never told her half as much about his time at the Circle as Finn tells them over the fire at night.
Oghren is no better, laughing over memories of the mage in Amaranthine. That one time he got so pissed she’d had to carry him up the Keep steps as Nathaniel tripped over his own feet alongside her, sharing Anders’ weight. Or when they’d fought the trees in the Wending Woods and he’d sworn every critter was out to get him.
It hurt because those were the things she kept to herself. Even Nathaniel daren’t say anything as they took their meals together.
The part of her that isn’t busy feeling sorry for herself wonders if Oghren has been waiting to talk about Anders with someone. She didn’t realise he’d become such a tabooed topic until the dwarf brought him up with Finn. Now she understands Nathaniel’s looks over the table. She understands why Sigrun left, first chance she got.
She shouldn’t hate Finn, Ari tells herself, staring at the dead rabbit. He did nothing to deserve her ire. Hugging her knees she looks around the forest, wondering why they haven’t seen any bears. Cutting across from the Imperial Highway was probably one of the dumbest ideas she’s ever had and it’s led them right into the thick of this ancient woodland with only Ariane’s loose understanding of the geography to guide them back.
Ari spots a raven in the branches of one of the trees and thinks of Morrigan. She turns back to the rabbit and wonders if any of her friends will ever stay by her side. Nathaniel won’t be tied to the Keep forever. He’s already had several jobs across the Arling, some even out to Highever and she knows he still thinks he has too much reputation to recover to ever stay training Wardens with her. Oghren barely speaks to her outside of a group now and she knows it’s because he blames her for everything that happened with Felsi. She blames herself too.
Her arms slip down her knees and Ari really starts to feel the cold. She rests her chin against her kneecap and allows herself to think of Anders. Just for a little while, she thinks, closing her eyes as the forest breathes around her, leaves rustling in the trees.
It’s getting worse. She can barely remember what his hand felt like in hers now. She recalls broken nails gripping her hips, the scratch of his unshaven beard against her neck, the shadow of his height as he towered over her in the heat of an argument over Templars or the usefulness of a cat in the Deep Roads. But she can’t remember the feeling of his hand in hers. The sensations just slip through her grasp and all is left is the phantom of someone she never knew she loved.
As much as she doesn’t like Finn, and she doesn’t like Oghren’s stories, she doesn’t like herself a lot more.
Ari’s shoulders rise around her ears as she half shrugs to keep warm. She should get up, take the dead kit and head back to camp with the others but with people around it gets harder and harder to remember these things.
Maybe it’s okay if everyone goes. When it’s just her and the leaves, she can forgive the part of her that still lives in the past.
Summary: Everyone has to eat.
A/N: bioware owns dragon age and all them characters. Second part of the Run Rabbit shorts series.
And I think of you when the leaves are brown,
I think of leaves that I have felt against my body on the ground
I think of places where we could go to now
Until they find us 'til they catch us,
'Til they wake us and we drown
Until I know where I am
I'm in a garden of remembering your fingers in my hand,
Were like a book made of sand
Emmy the Great (Two Steps Forward)
She has her fingers down that deep dark hole, the dirt bunching up under her fingernails as she reaches for an animal she can’t even see. Tears are blurring her vision as she twists her head to the side to give herself more room to catch the rabbit.
“We don’t have all day, Warden.” Oghren leans on the handle of his axe.
Ari ignores him. Rufus pushes his nose against her shoulder, trying desperately to fit down the hole with her arms. “No!” He continues to push. “No! Bad boy,” she shouts, twisting to face the Mabari. The dog growls but backs away, confusion in his dark eyes.
Finn has his hands on his knees as he watches her inch closer to the hole, worry etched across his face. Ariane is back at the camp and Ari tries not to think about the pot she probably has boiling. It wasn’t Finn’s idea to reach into the hole and it won’t be him to cook the rabbit so she doesn’t understand what business of his it is to watch her half-crying as she catches their supper.
“Take the dog back to camp will you?” Ari doesn’t apologise for her tone and she doesn’t expect Finn to leave without her. He’s too frightened to wonder around the Brecilian without her. She hates this stupid forest.
“Come here, boy.” Finn pats his legs encouragingly to keep Rufus from trying to burrow his nose back down the hole with her arms in it again. His voice has too much emotion in it so the dog returns to circling around Ari’s prone body. She stretches and stretches until her fingers brush something soft and furry.
Her heart clutches almost painfully.
“I’ve got something,” she says, her voice no more steady than Finn’s.
“Hrm, ‘bout time!” Oghren lifts his double headed axe to his shoulders, bending to see down the hole. Ari’s arms still crowd the space as she tries to grip the creature tight, her blasted hands shaking in recognition of its tiny body.
“I think it’s a baby. We can’t eat this.”
“I’ll be damned if we’re starving again tonight, Warden.”
“Pull it out, we should at least see.” Finn’s belly rumbles with his words and she knows they’ve gone too long without food to be picky about its size or age. Maker, she curses, why didn’t they follow the Highway back to Lothering!
Wriggling on her belly she pulls her arms out of the hole, the soft little creature in her hands trembling as it wakens. In the dying sunlight they all stare at the tiny ball of fluff, more hair than meat as its wide eyes dart at each of their faces.
“We can’t eat this,” Ari repeats.
“Put it in the bag,” Oghren sensibly pulls out the Hessian sack filled with three mushroom caps and the body of a tawny old hare. There’s barely enough meat between the two animals for one person let alone four.
“We have to eat,” Finn says sadly, his voice quiet as he stares at the little kit.
“I know that,” she can’t help the defensiveness in her voice; she’s the one who will have to slit its throat. “We already have a hare, are you sure that’s not enough?”
Oghren’s braided beard swings as he shakes his head at her.
“Alright, fine, fine.” Ari stands, the kits black beady eyes blinking quickly at the change in height. “Maker,” she mumbles, fiddling for the knife in her belt, leaving the others behind by the hole. She wipes at her eyes with one arm raised, her nose in her elbow as she pretends not to hear Finn call her name.
She doesn’t care that they’ve seen her crying now. It’s nothing new, she thinks, feeling the kit’s new tiny claws in its back legs scratch at her hands. It isn’t like she hasn’t cried herself to sleep more nights than most. She feels sorry for the creature, but Ari knows that really she feels sorrier for herself.
Disgusted by that thought she stoops to a smooth flat-surfaces rock, lowering the kit’s body to it. Ari sniffs, her nose feeling wet and runny as she looks down into its black eyes, its nose twitching back furiously. It is just so small.
“Do it quickly,” she tells herself, twisting her hand so that it lies on its back, still kicking at her. Her knife pauses, the tip barely brushing the thick soft fur of the tiny thing. Ari ducks her head quickly, her eyes squeezed shut as she curses Finn for dropping their supplies down that blighted crevice three days ago. It wasn’t even his fault.
Ari opens her eyes and with one breath runs the sharp knife across its neck in a well-practiced motion. She can feel its heart thumping hard under her thumb and she watches morbidly as the blood bleeds from the cut. The kit’s movements slow until they stop and its eyes lose their bright look.
“There,” she whispers, letting its body go. Ari pulls the sheath attached to her belt around and wipes the blade against the grass by her feet. She puts the knife away and sits back on her haunches, staring at its unmoving body.
She shouldn’t blame Finn but she can’t help it. Ari swipes at her eyes again and clenches her fist against her knee. It feels colder now as the sun sets, the birds are quieter and the grass feels a little wetter underneath the shade of the trees.
“Ari!” she hears Finn call for her. The elf doesn’t answer back, only stares at the dead kit, feeling like a terrible person. Some poor rabbit somewhere is going to come home to a hole without her baby. Ari doesn’t even think of the other bits of soft fur she’d felt down there. One is enough.
“Ari!”
Really she knows why she doesn’t like Finn.
“Ari!” His voice grows distant and she knows the mage has gone the wrong way to look for her. Oghren will be no help to him, so she crosses her arms and leans them against her knees.
She doesn’t like Finn because he knew Anders. He’s told them all stories about the rebel mage and his escape attempts quite freely, she hasn’t even had to subtly worm the information out of him or eavesdrop on his conversations with Ariane. Ari hates that the man himself never told her half as much about his time at the Circle as Finn tells them over the fire at night.
Oghren is no better, laughing over memories of the mage in Amaranthine. That one time he got so pissed she’d had to carry him up the Keep steps as Nathaniel tripped over his own feet alongside her, sharing Anders’ weight. Or when they’d fought the trees in the Wending Woods and he’d sworn every critter was out to get him.
It hurt because those were the things she kept to herself. Even Nathaniel daren’t say anything as they took their meals together.
The part of her that isn’t busy feeling sorry for herself wonders if Oghren has been waiting to talk about Anders with someone. She didn’t realise he’d become such a tabooed topic until the dwarf brought him up with Finn. Now she understands Nathaniel’s looks over the table. She understands why Sigrun left, first chance she got.
She shouldn’t hate Finn, Ari tells herself, staring at the dead rabbit. He did nothing to deserve her ire. Hugging her knees she looks around the forest, wondering why they haven’t seen any bears. Cutting across from the Imperial Highway was probably one of the dumbest ideas she’s ever had and it’s led them right into the thick of this ancient woodland with only Ariane’s loose understanding of the geography to guide them back.
Ari spots a raven in the branches of one of the trees and thinks of Morrigan. She turns back to the rabbit and wonders if any of her friends will ever stay by her side. Nathaniel won’t be tied to the Keep forever. He’s already had several jobs across the Arling, some even out to Highever and she knows he still thinks he has too much reputation to recover to ever stay training Wardens with her. Oghren barely speaks to her outside of a group now and she knows it’s because he blames her for everything that happened with Felsi. She blames herself too.
Her arms slip down her knees and Ari really starts to feel the cold. She rests her chin against her kneecap and allows herself to think of Anders. Just for a little while, she thinks, closing her eyes as the forest breathes around her, leaves rustling in the trees.
It’s getting worse. She can barely remember what his hand felt like in hers now. She recalls broken nails gripping her hips, the scratch of his unshaven beard against her neck, the shadow of his height as he towered over her in the heat of an argument over Templars or the usefulness of a cat in the Deep Roads. But she can’t remember the feeling of his hand in hers. The sensations just slip through her grasp and all is left is the phantom of someone she never knew she loved.
As much as she doesn’t like Finn, and she doesn’t like Oghren’s stories, she doesn’t like herself a lot more.
Ari’s shoulders rise around her ears as she half shrugs to keep warm. She should get up, take the dead kit and head back to camp with the others but with people around it gets harder and harder to remember these things.
Maybe it’s okay if everyone goes. When it’s just her and the leaves, she can forgive the part of her that still lives in the past.