Written in response to Cheeky Monkey ventisquear's challenge – what happens when Flemeth is left in the amulet too long?

o0o

Overdue

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The odd little Dalish mage moved toward the altar, amulet in hand.

"Do you think anything's going to happen?" Aveline murmured in an undertone to Hawke. "It has been almost four years, after all."

"It might have been never. Carver was the one holding on to the thing since he didn't trust me not to lose it. If I hadn't stolen his trousers and hidden them for a lark that morning he'd have carried it off with him to the Grey Wardens."

Anders gestured for silence. "Quiet, you two, she's starting."

"Anath adralla! Annath anna! Annabanana! Rahmah lahma dindawn! Sysbumb ah!"

Eldritch energies swirled about the altar, plucking at cloaks and scattering the bracken. The vortex rose with a mighty roar into the sky and then dropped abruptly to reveal Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds.

Wearing a coffee-stained housecoat, hair in some kind of a foot-long curlers, she was sitting crouched upon the altar with bits of rags stuffed between her bare toes, tiny paintbrush in hand. She glanced up and removed a cigarette from the corner of her mouth.

"Oh, NOW you show up," she said irritably.