The morning after the official end to the festivities at Halamshiral was filled with a mix of simply laying in bed, skin bare against skin, and slow lovemaking. It felt like Cullen had explored every part of her with his hands as they laid there in soft touches that lingered against her skin. As if he were memorizing her to remember forever (or at least until she returned to Skyhold).
Then Josephine knocked on their door and said it was time.
Slowly they had dragged themselves out of bed and cleaned up, washing each other with the chill water of the basin left in their room. Then they had dressed, though the process had been continually stilted and paused because of wandering hands and languid kisses.
At one point they’d even ended up back against the door where they started everything the night before, Cullen growling as he pinned her against it. Meryell had arched her back, her still bare breasts brushing against the fabric of his gambeson, and moaned as he’d sucked at her throat. They’d both heard an embarrassed squeak come from the other side of the door and then Rhiryd’s deep voice comment about how they’d been at it all night.
That particular mabari was out of the pen for certain then. Varric was now going to have to figure out when they’d started actually doing stuff to award that bet and neither of them were going to help him with that.
Not being punctual and embarrassment thankfully hadn’t stopped Cullen from finishing what he’d started. Though he had abandoned the door at that point, despite her protesting. His solution involved the wall on the opposite side of the room, however, and she’d giggled as he hissed You wanted your bare skin on Orlesian walls one more time, didn’t you?
They had eventually finished dressing and as Meryell tugged her dagger harness on over her armor, she felt Cullen’s fingers brush her arm. Finishing the buckles of at least the shoulders before she turned, she blinked then she found his expression starkly serious.
“I’ve been wanting to give you this but haven’t found the time,” he said softly. “I wanted to do it somewhere else but…well, we have a hard enough time getting time to ourselves, let alone enough for a personal trip to the backend of Ferelden. Plus me becoming ill and everything surrounding that…”
Tilting her head curiously, Meryell murmured, “Cullen, you’re rambling. Is something wrong?”
He shook his head immediately and quickly said, “No, no, nothing’s wrong.” Then he sighed, shoulders heaving underneath his mantle, and reached for her hands. She felt the brush of the leather of his gloves against her palm since she hadn’t yet donned her own gloves as he took her hand in his and then the smooth, cool surface that was recognizably a coin. “My brother gave this to me when I left for training. I’m certain it just happened to be what he had in his pocket but he said it was for luck and…I was leaving. It was all I was going to have of him for who knew how long.”
“Aren’t templars supposed to not have such things?” she asked, putting just a touch of teasing into her words. “Faith seeing you through shit and all?”
“Right,” he agreed with a low chuckle.
Meryell shook her head and smiled. “Look at you, breaking the rules before you even got into training. Scandalous.”
Cullen laughed at that and nodded before saying, “I used to be very good at following rules up until a year ago.” He then shook his head and turned his hand so they could both see the coin now resting in her palm. “I survived the Blight, the abominations in the Tower, Kirkwall, Haven, a lyrium attack. So, I can’t help but believe that maybe it’s helped a little, that it maybe really is lucky.”
“I can believe that,” she murmured. She was astounded that he’d survived all that he had sometimes too. Especially the Tower, since she knew several veteran templars more than twice his age at the time had given into the demons there.
He smiled then and said, “Humor me, dear thief?” When she nodded, he closed her fingers over the coin and she jerked with surprise.
Nodding, he said softly, “You constantly walk into danger. And Maker knows we don’t know what all you might face in the field before this is over. A little luck can’t hurt.” Cullen’s face crumpled then, fear and sadness warring for dominance on his features. “If I…I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
Meryell blinked then lifted her Marked hand, cupping his cheek with it. He briefly turned his face into her palm, nose brushing the gash-not-gash across her hand and causing it to glow faintly green in response.
“So you want me to take your luck?” she asked.
“I did say humor me.”
She snorting then asked, “What about your luck?”
Cullen chuckled and replied, “I don’t need luck at the moment. Gil would just bully me back to health or shoo anything bad that happened away like an errant child.”
That made her laugh because Gil probably could then she frowned. “You really want me to take it?”
“Please.” His tone was low, desperate, and ached with a force that she could physically feel. Meryell then pulled her hand from his and tucked the coin away into one of the pouches on her belt. Then she braced her hand against his chest and rose up on her toes. He obliged by ducking his head to meet her kiss and then his hand clutched at the back of her head, turning the kiss from soft to a touch desperate.
When they finally separated, she breathed, “I’ll keep it safe, vhen’an.”
“I’d rather it keep you safe,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers. His eyes closed as he let out a breath before saying, “Ar lath ‘ma, vhen’an. Ena…ena arla…shit, what’s the…eth. Ena arla eth.”
Smiling and proud – so proud that her heart hammered against her ribs – at his successful Elven, Meryell replied, “I will, always. Ar lath ‘ma.”
He just smiled and they kissed again: a slow, languid thing that felt like it was entirely a reassurance of you’re here, you’re safe, you’ll come back home. Then they finally separated and finished their preparations, strapping on the last bits of armor and weapons and securing their luggage tight before they opened the door.
Rhiryd grinned at them, Avvar sensibilities about sex being much looser than a lot of the rest of Thedas, and Josephine turned pink across the cheeks. After a moment of silence, the big man scoffed and grumbled, “Why turn red? All thought long ago that they were together.”
“Because not everyone can be as sensible as the Avvar, Rhiryd,” replied Meryell with a smile. As he laughed, she turned towards Josephine and asked, “Everyone else is ready to leave?”
That seemed to startle the ambassador back out of wherever her mind had gone and she gave herself a slight shake before replying. “We’re just beginning to put together the luggage to begin our trip back to Skyhold. We thought that perhaps you might wish to begin your trip to the Exalted Plains before the rest of us left since it will be a while longer before that happens.”
She then seemed to gain back what composure she’d lost – who knew Josie would lose her shit at them having at it against a door – and arched an eyebrow as she asked, “Of course, so long as you both are done cavorting about your room.”
Meryell grinned at that and said, “Just giving Gaspard enough to remember us by.”
“Please tell me you didn’t do anything to the room.”
Cullen chuckled, placing his hands on her shoulders just as she was opening her mouth, and said quickly, “We did nothing to the room, Josephine, I can assure you.”
That had the ambassador breathing a sigh of relief and Meryell started to open her mouth again, to make a comment about how they might not have left anything physical behind themselves but she had left one of Sera’s very elaborate drawings of her and Cullen somewhere for a servant to find with Gaspard’s name on it. In a forged hand, of course, because she wasn’t fucking getting caught leaving it in her own handwriting. It was really a pity that she wasn’t going to get to see his face.
Served him right for leering at her like he had been and actually expecting that he could convince her to make a marriage of allegiance or some other such shite.
Cullen’s grip tightening on her shoulders, however, stopped her and she looked sulkily up at him. He smiled and bent to whisper in her ear, “If you want yours and Sera’s little bit of fun to not be found, I’d keep quiet. Josephine would scour the room for it herself if she knew you were leaving that, let alone kept it.”
Honestly she’d been surprised that he had agreed to let them do it when she’d told him about it but, then again, he’d been angry at the idea of her on the Duke’s arm.
Pouting a little, Meryell nodded and said, “Well then, I suppose we’d best hop to. Rhiryd?”
The big man shrugged where he leaned against the door and replied, “I wait for servants,” as he tipped his head towards the still open room. When she started to say that he probably didn’t have to stay and guard their belongings like that – the idea of her own company brother doing such was a little embarrassing because he was worth more than that – he fixed her with a hard stare.
“Recall Markham?” he asked, his tone darkly serious. “The Crow?”
Shuddering, Meryell winced and tipped her head forward in acquiescence. “Point made, Rhiryd,” she said softly. Then she reached out towards him and added, “Then this is probably the last I’ll see you until I make it back to Skyhold. Tell Sister Cecilia that I still remember she’s supposed to sing one of my favorites around the campfire sometime when I can make it down the damned hill.”
Rhiryd chuckled and engulfed her hand in his own as he reached out to grip her wrist in a warrior’s grasp. “I will remind,” he assured, with a smile that softened his rough features. “She has sung practice to me for it.”
She smiled at that, saying, “I look forward to hearing it when I can then. And you keep yourself safe.”
“You are one walking to danger!” he boomed with a laugh. Then he waved his hand at them and said, “Go, go. Need to ride.”
“Fine, fine,” grumbled Meryell at the mild scolding. She then looked at Josephine and asked, “So where are we at?”
“Out front,” replied the ambassador as she began to lead them down the halls of Gaspard’s mansion, merely by chance of walking ahead of them. “It is rather…public…so I would ask if you both could perhaps not cause a scene? Particularly given what Gaspard asked of you while we were here, Inquisitor.”
Josephine turned her head back towards them, her face serious but understanding as she went on, “I know you made no personal promises to him but he did make several subtle public gestures. It is best to not completely alienate him as an ally.”
“I understand, Josie,” she said, smiling at the other woman reassuringly. “I know enough about making deals to know to not piss off someone who didn’t get his end of a bargain despite never being promised one.” Then she glanced up at Cullen, who had his jaw clenched a little tight and his eyes serious. “We already said our goodbye’s anyway.”
He turned to smile down at her at that before reaching for her hand. They briefly tangled their fingers in the safety provided by Josephine’s back and walked hand-in-hand for several strides until they reached one of the main halls of the manor. Then they both sighed and let go of each other, though they still walked close enough together that anyone in Orlais could probably get the hint that they were together.
No one could ever say she didn’t try to be decent in public.
It wasn’t like she was going to be sucking Cullen’s face in public anyway. It was very rare that they did more than touch in public in the first place. If they did, they tended (mostly) to keep it brief.
Before they stepped out the open front doors of the manor into the bright light of day, Cullen leaned over to ask, “What was that about a Crow in Markham? Was Rhiryd talking about an Antivan Crow?”
Nodding, Meryell replied, “Right. Neither of us were on that job but it’s just one of those stories that gets passed around the company because it’s so ridiculous. Some of us got hired to protect this noble who was worried about assassins coming after him just over a year and a half back…well, two and a half now. They’d already tried twice and he and his wife managed to escape from both attempts without a scratch. Our lot fended off another and killed them to a man then the noble decides he’s going to get out of fucking Markham.”
“Is this where the Crow comes in?”
“By accident,” she answered with a grin. “They were loading up the luggage and one abruptly tumbles off the top of the carriage and there’s this shriek. After all of the lot loading it confirmed it hadn’t been them – which were all servants and male while the scream had sounded female – they all apparently turned to look at the trunk.”
As the stone of the open courtyard of the manor clicked under her boot heels and she blinked in the sunlight, Meryell finished, “They drew swords, popped the lock, and kicked it open. And inside was this dazed little human boy with obvious Crow marked leathers, an already poisoned dagger, and a scrap of paper that had the name of the noble’s wife.”
Cullen barked a brief laugh at that then peered around the courtyard as they stopped before the door. She watched him as he drew up to his full height, shoulders straight and steady, already settling back into Commander instead of Cullen. Still, he smiled and there was a twinkle in his eye as he asked, “Let me guess, the whole thing turned into a scandal.”
Laughing, she nodded.
“Turned out that his wife – his new wife – had a penchant for cozying up to a rich man, poisoning him, and then disappearing with as much of his fortune as she could carry before anyone could think wiser. Her previous husband apparently survived the poison. Ended up with a lame arm from it that couldn’t be fixed but he still had enough money to send people out to find her. When he did, he hired a group of Crows to kill her.”
He pursed his lips and murmured, “So the boy was a last ditch effort.”
Nodding, Meryell said, “He was just a trainee, a rookie taken out with the group for experience. When he learned the rest were dead, he took the paper from what of their things the rest had left behind and decided that he had to finish the job.”
“As a trainee?”
“Crow training is harsh,” she explained with a shrug. “And they beat obedience to their organization into the ones they train. He’d been an orphan on the streets before they picked him up and fed him, gave him shelter and then asked him to kill for them. So he was just doing what he thought he needed to do to keep that.”
Cullen stopped then and frowned down at her. “You’re talking like you’ve talked to him.”
Stiffening, Meryell tried to smile but it felt brittle
Smiling, she nodded. “I have.”
“The company recruited him?”
“Boy should’ve never been a blade anyway,” Meryell grumbled. “He’s got a soft heart and that life would’ve probably killed him before he was full grown. We let Bort just be a child instead of a killer, let him decide what he wanted to be.”
“Bort?” repeated Cullen, his eyebrows rising high. “Your stablehand?”
Meryell just grinned, saying, “He’s a marvel with a horse. And saves baby birds that have fallen from nests, raises then in his pockets. There’s not a bone that wants to be violent in his body.”
“But he knows how.”
“Every company whelp knows how to kill,” she replied darkly. “We don’t leave our own defenseless. We just teach ‘em that it’s last resort. They aren’t even allowed to start going into the field until eight and ten.”
Cullen frowned at that, his brow pulling low, and he turned towards her. She knew that worrying look too – he’d caught at something in what she’d said.
His voice was pitched low as he said, “But you joined immediately? At fifteen?”
She’d never told him.
Meryell had mentioned that she’d killed people before. They both had blood on their hands and she sure as shit wasn’t going to let him wallow in that if she could help it. She just hadn’t told him how early her first kill had been. Even if it had been an accident.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and shrugged as she said lightly, “Special case with me. They still kept me out of a lot of shit but I wasn’t a trainee. Not like our whelps.” Then Meryell opened her eyes and looked up at him, seeing the curiosity and concern in his eyes.
“I already had a kill under my belt at four and ten,” she breathed. Cullen inhaled sharply at the admission then his fingers were on her jaw, the leather scratching her skin slightly as he lightly brushed across it. She flinched, just a little, before adding, “It was an accident. During a theft.”
“Lovebirds!” hissed Sera abruptly as she blew past them with a pack on either shoulder and her bow slung across them. “Josiekins looks like she’s about to set ya both on fire and call it a day. Get to doing shit!”
Meryell flinched at the reminder and Cullen snarled a curse under his breath before letting his hand fall away. It went to his sword, gripping the hilt tightly, and she could see it tremble. That reminded her sharply that today meant yet another dose of diluted lyrium for him.
He then sighed, lifting his other hand to press at the bridge of his nose, before asking, “You’ll tell me when you get back? Everything?” She could see his jaw was tight, tensed and heavy, and his gaze was fierce as he looked down at her.
It made her feel rather like shit that this had come up right now. She’d really prefer to have it out here and now if he wanted to but…priorities and acting decent and all that shite.
So instead Meryell straightened up, met his eyes, and assured, “The moment I’m back in Skyhold.” Then she paused and said softly, “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I just…I don’t like remembering that day.”
His gaze softened at that and Cullen nodded before saying gently, “I’m not…Maker, I’m not angry, love. I just…I’d rather you share these things. Isn’t that what people are supposed to do in a relationship?”
“Never did like following the same fucking path as everyone else but, yeah, I agree with that one.” She started to reach out towards him but stopped herself, instead forcing a smile and planting her hands on her hips. “Never did say I was good at this, either.”
“Neither am I but that’s the point of figuring out how this goes together.”
Meryell just smiled at that. “We’re a fucking mess, you know that right?”
“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” Cullen replied with a smile. He then nodded his head before saying, “I’ll see you in a month or so?”
“Hopefully less,” she answered brightly. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and word of the arrangement has already been passed on. I’ve got all the luck I need now, after all.”
He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll pray that it is so.” Then his shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath before murmuring, “I should go find Gil.”
Nodding, Meryell said, “Ar lath ‘ma, vhen’an.” They couldn’t speak their feelings in the open in Common while in Orlais but they sure as shit could in Elven. Gaspard certainly didn’t know it and she’d never met another city elf who knew more than the handful of words they normally used. Half-Dalish like her were few and far between amongst the city folk.
They were safe with Elven.
“Ar lath ‘ma,” Cullen answered with a smile. Then he nodded his head respectfully, as the Inquisitor’s Commander should in any public venue, before he turned and left. She watched him go for a long moment, eyes flicking over his tall form before she turned away.
There was work to be done.
Sighing, Meryell turned away and walked towards where she had already seen Cassandra standing next to a cluster of saddled horses and Inquisition soldiery. Due to the nature of where they were going, it had been decided that she needed more than the men they already had in the Plains and her team. As one of the few full squads that had accompanied them, Sergeant Olyver and his Corporals Edine and Dairin along with everyone under the Sergeant’s command had been assigned to accompany them. Arnald had then tacked on Folke, Dragos, and Rebecca with the stern comment that he wasn’t letting her walk into that shithole those two royal idiots had turned the countryside of Orlais into without Fangs at her back. That and if she had a problem with it, he had no problem pulling rank on her since in Fang matters he outranked her still.
Josephine had looked appalled at him – a former minor noble – calling the Empress and the Duke idiots. The el’u’verelan had merely blinked at him before seeming to shrug his phrasing aside to comment that he was probably right. Cullen, of course, agreed with almost anything that gave her more people at her back. She’d had a laugh about the whole thing and hadn’t argued.
Anything that gave her her father at her side was fine by her. And she wanted to see Corporal Edine, Rebecca, and Cassandra fighting together. They were going to terrify everyone in the Exalted Plains into submission. She’d put money on it if she could.
“How’s prep, Cass?” she asked as she got closer to the warrior. “We almost ready to get the fuck out of Orlais?”
The Seeker turned to look at her before replying, “We are close to prepared, though I believe Solas wished to speak to you before we left.” Then she smirked and asked, “You are aware that the Exalted Plains are still in Orlais?”
“Far, far away from this lot of stuck up arse nuts, though,” Meryell replied with a grin as she jerked a thumb over her shoulder, “so I’m counting it as out.”
Cassandra snorted at that, shaking her head, before saying, “If that’s how you wish to view it, Meryell, I will not argue with you.”
“Good,” she said with a grin. Then Meryell sighed before grumbling, “I guess I’ll go have a chat with Chuckles and see what the fuck he wants.”
“I was under the impression you and he were not so much at odds anymore?”
“We’re not. That’s just me cursing for the sake of cursing.”
The older woman let out a quiet laugh at that, saying, “Sometimes I forget that you don’t always mean the words when you say them. You always sound as though you do.”
“Not sure how you manage to forget that,” Meryell commented as she turned to look for Solas. She caught sight of the bald elf across the courtyard speaking with Cullen and frowned. What was he doing over there?
As she watched, her lover turned and pointed towards her, saying something to the other elf. Solas nodded at him then began moving towards her, bare feet ghosting across the cobblestones. She moved away from Cassandra to meet him halfway across the courtyard, where they could speak with at least some level of privacy.
“Da’len,” he greeted with a vague nod of his head.
“Hahren,” she replied with a smirk. “Cass said you were looking for me?”
“Yes,” he replied then went silent. Meryell frowned at him as he stood there, obviously gathering his thoughts or some other such shit. Then she noticed something about him that made her breath catch.
It was subtle, barely noticeable but the tips of his ears were twitching. The only reason she even noticed it was because she always noticed when another elf’s ears twitched. Mostly because there were so few that shared the ability with her over the years.
“Chuckles,” she intoned softly, not even bothering to hide the concern in her voice. He was so rarely ever bothered by something and she knew from her own motions that that slight flicking was worry. “What’s wrong?”
He looked up at her at that, gaze curious and said, “You actually sound concerned, da’len.”
“I may not like you, Chuckles,” Meryell pointed out with narrowed eyes, “but I respect you decently enough. For Skyhold, for letting me hide on your couch, for offering to help Cullen…shit, I’ll even throw in being a snarky shit back at me and the Iron Lady. Not to mention you’re a member of the Inquisition and I’m Inquisitor and I take responsibility fucking serious.” She then crossed her arms, frowning at him, and asked, “Now what’s wrong?”
For a moment he just looked at her and she was about to get to the point of demanding what was wrong again when he finally said, “I find that I need a favor.”
“You? A favor?” she exclaimed. “You…you never ask for anything, Chuckles. Not even when I offered to pay you back for helping me avoid shit.”
“Hmm, yes. I usually find need for little yet this…” Solas trailed off, looking away from her for a moment, then his gaze drifted back. “I would ask that you reconsider the party you are taking to the Exalted Plains.”
Meryell arched an eyebrow. “To include you?”
He tilted his head slightly into just enough of a nod for it to count. “Yes, da’len. I…as I slept last night I heard a cry for help. One of my oldest friends has been captured, forced into slavery by mages.”
She knew enough about Chuckles to know that when he said friends he meant spirit. They did, on occasion, actually have a conversation or two when she felt she had the patience for him. Since they’d agreed to keep away from talking about the Dalish since he disdained them and she thought him a twat for it, they’d actually discovered they could have a semi-civil magical discussion. She knew plenty from overhearing conversations amongst the company mages, enough to at least keep up a little bit and not be declared a total novice in the subject.
“Your friend,” she began slowly, “a spirit?”
“You guess well, da’len.” He gave a vaguely approving nod, which she immediately sneered at, before going on, “My friend is a spirit of wisdom. It was content, quite happily remaining within the Fade unlike the spirits we have faced at the rifts. These mages used a summoning circle to draw it through, pulling it against its will, and it wants my help returning to the Fade.”
“Shit,” cursed Meryell, her eyes widening a little. Summoning spirits through into the world rarely turned out well. Then she scowled and said, “Fucking shit timing that this didn’t happen while we were back at Skyhold, Chuckles. Our Mort is an expert on runes and summoning circles. Even if we sent a raven back now, he probably wouldn’t make it to us in time.”
Solas nodded before saying, “I know enough of them. Your father…”
Shaking her head, she quickly interrupted him, “Summoning circles aren’t his thing. Mostly because he can’t draw a circle worth a damn. That and he doesn’t even have enough magic to break one, so he doesn’t screw with them.” Shrugging, she tacked on, “Too dangerous for even his wild blood, he says.”
That made the elf’s shoulders slump just slightly – just enough – then he nodded. “We will work with what we can then.” Then he glanced up at her, one eyebrow slightly higher than the other, before saying, “Assuming that I am indeed accompanying you.”
“Of course you’re bloody accompanying me, Chuckles,” Meryell snapped. “Dorian’ll be relieved to go back to Skyhold anyway and get a break.” She then frowned, staring at him hard, before asking, “You seriously thought I’d say no?”
“I do not deign to think of which way you will drift, da’len.” Solas smiled thinly at her. “You have already surprised me with your actions since the Breach began and I would not wish to think I knew what path you were going to take next. It would ruin the surprise were I to guess.”
She blinked at him for a moment, having not realized that he thought that about her.
“Well…good to know, I guess.”
He chuckled at that and said a simple, “Yes.”
Meryell pursed her lips then snapped her fingers, asking, “You know where your friend is at in the Plains?”
“I do. I managed to get a sense of the general area it was in before I awoke.”
“Sergeant Olyver and his company are coming with us and one of the scouts assigned with them has a copy of the map our scouts already in the Plains have put together,” she said quickly. “Go find him and figure out where this location is at. Depending on where it is, we’ll head that way as soon as we can.”
For a moment Solas’ stern expression that he normally wore disappeared and she saw honest to the fucking Maker gratitude and relief wash across his features. “Thank you, da’len,” he said in a low voice and, for a brief instant, she could hear the relief there too.
Spurred on by the fact that for once he was actually showing some sort of emotion beyond the slightly anger, cool disdain, or sharp biting tongue that he usually displayed, Meryell reached out with her Marked hand to grip his shoulder firmly. He jumped as she firmly intoned, “Like I said, you’re Inquisition, Chuckles. And I protect what’s mine.”
As she released him, Solas quietly said, “As I said, you continue to surprise me.”
“Good, means I’m keeping someone on their toes at least.” Nodding to him, Meryell said, “I’ll see you and your hart on the road, hahren,” before she turned and strode back towards Cassandra, who had been joined by Dorian.
“Hey, Dorian!” she called out as she got close. “Guess fucking what?”
The mage turned towards her as she heard a hiss from somewhere that had to be Josephine lamenting the fact that she was shouting curses in the open air. He blinked before calling back, “Do you have something exciting to tell me, darling? Is it that I get to set fools on fire? Oh, do tell me it is.”
“Better!” chirped Meryell as she reached him, looping her arm around his waist.
He slung his arm over her shoulder in return and leaned in, purring, “What is better than fools on fire?”
Turning to grin up at him, she replied, “Getting to go back to Skyhold instead of following me into the fucking wilderness.”
Dorian blinked and straightened up in surprise, staying like that for a moment before he laughed and kissed her on the cheek. As Cassandra sighed at them and members of Sergeant Olyver’s company looked them like they were insane, the mage lifted her up and spun her around in circles while declaring that she was clearly his best friend since she had given him such a delightful present.
Meryell just laughed through the whole of it, clinging to his shoulders, and enjoyed the ridiculousness of it.
She had to because she had the distinct feeling that whatever they found in the Plains was going to about as pleasant as the Maker’s rotting balls.
Ena arla eth – come home safe