✦ One Week Later — The Hut in Red Hill Forest
A week had altered the forest. Redhill's destruction and smoke had receded to the beat of cicadas, leaves murmuring overhead of Van and Varric's makeshift hut.
The scent of damp wood and herbs was strong, moonmint drying from the rafters, the distant tinkle of Varric's complaining voice coming from outside.
Asthia's breath caught before her eyes parted. The pain in her head throbbed like iron struck against stone.
She lifted a shaking hand, fingers grasping at her temple, nails scritching bandages.
Her throat was dry. She moved her head slowly, agonizingly.
Seris was at the opposite wall. Arms crossed, posture relaxed but eyes alert, she was a fixed figure in the faint light. She neither shifted, nor spoke, nor even winced at Asthia's movement. Her expression was neutral, as if the presence or lack of Asthia waking was insignificant.
Asthia blinked against the throbbing ache. Memory hit her—The watchtower's veins afire red.
