The Dalish camp came into view at the edge of the forest. No scouts had met their party along the way, much to Alistair's relief. He wasn't sure how the elves would greet their former enemies, even though they were transformed. Leliana and Anouk had quietly taken charge of Swiftrunner and his kin; when the leader of the wolves had gotten them close enough to find the camp on their own, he thanked Alistair again.

"We cannot tell you what it means to be free," he told the warden. Glancing down at Charlotte on her makeshift stretcher – constructed out of branches and one of their blankets – he pulled his own blanket more tightly around his shoulders. "I hope she will wake unharmed."

"As do we all," Alistair agreed. "Go with Leliana and Anouk back to our main camp; we can give you clothes there to travel in. Leliana," he called over his comrade, who trotted over obediently. "Tell the others what's happened and our plan. Cullen must move quickly."

"Absolutely," she nodded, turning to taking Swiftrunner by the arm and bring him with her to the rest of their group. They began marching out without delay; Alistair had Aneiren and Jowan set Charlotte down, giving Petra an opportunity to once again check her condition.

"She's getting a fever," Petra told him worriedly. "I don't think it's anything serious, but we need to get more healing potions in her as soon as we can."

"Why is this happening?" Aneiren asked with frustration; Petra bit her lip.

"It's hard to know for certain," she began reluctantly, "But my guess would be that she's undergoing some final transformation from her bite."

"But the curse was lifted!" Zevran snapped, perturbed. Petra sighed.

"Yes, but her taint complicated the curse's progress. We cannot know how it will impact her from now on."

Staring down at Charlotte's pale face, Alistair felt sick at heart. They could do nothing except take precautions and wait; what Charlotte had suffered was unique, and therefore unpredictable. He thought of what she'd already been through in the last week and wished dearly for an outlet to vent his rage. Would he never be able to protect her?

Mastodon lay down next to his mistress, settling in with a grumble that communicated his impatience. Alistair knew the hound was, like him, more concerned than anything with getting Charlotte well again. The prince-to-be had wracked his brains for ideas on how to manage the Dalish and telling them what happened. Finally, with Leliana's help, he'd settled on a plan.

First, they were going to get the former wolves to safety; he didn't want war breaking out in the Dalish camp, especially when Swiftrunner and the others were defenseless. Second, he'd tasked Cullen with bringing back the two hunters who attacked their camp. He would return them to the Dalish as a sign of good faith and as proof they were not interested in hurting the elves. Finally, he'd brought back Mhairi's remains and Zathrian's staff; Aneiren had advised him to do the latter, explaining that the other Keepers could verify their tale by casting magic on the stave that would reveal its most recent spellwork. In an effort to demonstrate their respect and status as allies, Alistair had made a second stretcher for Mhairi and wrapped her in their last blanket, keeping her wound visible so the Keepers could compare it with the blade at the bottom of Zathrian's stave. She was being carried by Gavin and a bleary Oghren, who'd insisted on helping despite his injuries in battle. Both of them sat next to her on the soft grass, where she lay as still as a statue between them.

An hour passed before Cullen came back with Leliana and the two hunters. Sten brought up the rear, gripping each elf carefully so they would know the futility of struggling without causing them discomfort or harm. The men were fatigued from Valerian potion, but their hatred shone through nonetheless, and one of them mimed spitting at Alistair when he got close. He couldn't actually complete the act around his gag, but Alistair had little tolerance left for such prejudice. Glaring at the young man, he came forward and yanked him down, shoving his face into Mhairi's on the ground.

"Do you see what your leader did?" Alistair hissed angrily; the hunter struggled, but Alistair retained an iron grip on the back of the young man's neck. "He murdered your friend and clan member to cover up the fact he was the one who cast the curse a hundred years ago. You want to know why? Because he had a vendetta against humans. He hated us so much, he bound the spirit of the forest to a white wolf and forced it to do his bidding, then he abandoned it in the woods. That spirit retained its mind and helped the wolves who were bitten and tried to ask Zathrian to lift the curse, but he refused. Even when they bit his own clan."

The hunter gurgled, outraged by what he saw as false accusations; Alistair reached out to Aneiren, who handed him the dead Keeper's stave. Upon seeing it, both hunters froze, eyes wide.

"You know what this is," it was not a question. Alistair's knuckles turned white as they gripped the ironbark staff; "You know why we have it? Because when Zathrian was confronted with all the evil he'd done, he finally lifted the curse. He had not discovered the secret to immortality – he'd used his blood to create the curse and bind the spirit to Witherfang's body. As long as the curse existed, so would he. When the curse was lifted, Zathrian died. Everything he told you was a lie – he betrayed his own people in his thirst for revenge and power."

The hunter began struggling again, murder in his eyes; Alistair pushed him away, letting him fall onto his backside next to Mhairi's corpse. "Your prejudice has cost people their lives, but we have spared yours," Alistair spat. "Every moment you breathe is because of our mercy – and now we're going to do what we can to save your damned forest from the Blight. Don't you dare spit on us."

Whatever the elf had tried to utter could not have been good, but Alistair didn't care. He didn't expect the young man to change, but he wasn't going to let his behavior pass without comment. Looking at Cullen, who'd gasped at seeing Charlotte so ill on the ground, he nodded shortly; "Let's go."

They made a strange procession through the woods; Alistair took point with Aneiren, who carried Zathrian's staff. Jowan and Zevran had taken over carrying Charlotte's stretcher, with Oghren and Gavin right behind them, somberly transporting Mhairi. Leliana, Petra, and Morrigan flanked the group, keeping an eye on the two prisoners escorted by Cullen and Sten. Mastodon marched proudly at Alistair's side, approving of how the warden had handled things thus far.

When they entered the camp, there was muttering first, then an uproar when they spotted the two hunters bound and gagged. Alistair didn't flinch, too righteous with anger to be intimidated; when an elf made a threatening comment in elvish and began to advance on them, Mastodon barked angrily, forcing the man back. Alistair stopped, indicating his comrades should do the same, and called loudly, "I need to speak with Keeper Elinara!"

"Filthy shem!" a heckler called back; roars of agreement met this declaration. Alistair ignored them.

"In case you haven't noticed!" he shouted, "Your ill are getting well! That's because of US, so step aside and bring me Keeper Elinara before the wardens declare you traitors to your treatise with our order!"

This brought some of the elves up short; while those among them who were unmoved continued shouting for the wardens' blood, Lanaya appeared, Elinara at her side.

"What is this, warden Alistair?" Elinara demanded; her eyes widened further when she saw Mhairi. "Oh no – Mhairi!"

Alistair didn't stop her from going to examine her clan member; the Keeper mewed in distress, spinning around to demand an explanation.

"Zathrian killed her," he told the Keeper shortly. Silence fell only briefly before the elves gathered began to erupt again. The other Keepers joined them, shushing the crowd so they could hear.

"What is this nonsense?" Solan spat, "You accuse one of the elvhen of murdering his own? Preposterous!"

"We can prove it," Aneiren said, stepping forward. Solan visibly paled at the sight of Zathrian's staff; he swung around, facing his fellow Keepers.

"Do not listen to them!" he cried, pointing at the wardens. "They are liars and murderers! We should kill them all!"

Among the Dalish gathered, some began to yell in agreement with Solan, but Elinara stayed them and faced the other Keeper down.

"We shall hear their tale, Solan, before making a decision."

"But, Elinara-"

"The cursed among us are well again; that cannot be denied." Turning back to Alistair, Elinara nodded, "Because of that, we will hear them out."

"I cannot allow this!" Solan snarled; Jaris shot out one hand, gripping Solan by the shoulder.

"You are overruled, Solan," the elder told him sternly. "If you cannot keep your peace, you will be removed."

The younger elf's sour expression was painful to witness, but, without support among his own, he was forced to go quiet. Iishae was weeping over Mhairi, while the two hunters glared at their captors with undisguised loathing.

"First thing's first," Alistair continued brusquely; "Sten, release their hunters."

As mutters went up in the crowd, the qunari solemnly brought his charges forward, Cullen following behind.

"What is the meaning of this?" Jaris asked, pointing to their bindings. Cullen explained.

"Two days ago, these men attacked our camp. We did not know who was firing upon us at first, but when we defeated them, we healed your men. We could only ascertain they'd attacked us so we would kill them and destroy any alliance between the wardens and your clans."

"We came looking for these men yesterday!" Solan spat accusingly. "You denied having ever seen them! Deceitful shem!"

"We'd sent word to them not to do anything until we returned," Alistair interjected. "They were following orders."

"A likely tale," Solan sneered. Jaris held up one hand for silence, glancing in warning at Solan. "Why did you order this, warden?"

"Because by that point, Mhairi had told us the truth," Leliana replied passionately, coming to Alistair's side. "That Zathrian had cast the curse and created Witherfang."

There was a collective gasp and increased sounds of discontent in response to her words; Elinara came closer, reaching out for Zathrian's stave.

"We will determine the truth of your words," she replied, her calm cracked by the strain of the situation. Aneiren relinquished the stave gladly, knowing it would support their story.

Jaris came forward to help Elinara; with murmurs, they assessed the stave, casting over it a sparkling silver magic that whispered with many voices into the trees. When they were finished, Elinara met Alistair's gaze, her own dark with grief.

"It's true," she said, stunned. Every clan member gathered gasped, disbelieving.

"Zathrian did it because a human tribe who lived here one hundred years ago captured and killed his children," Alistair explained gently, not wishing to upset the woman further. "But Witherfang didn't just bite the humans who committed the crime – he transformed many others who were innocent into werewolves. They begged Zathrian to lift the curse from them, but he was too filled with hatred to listen."

Jaris turned to the young hunters, who had not yet been released from their bindings. With a casual gesture, he removed their gags, and asked, "Did Zathrian send you to the warden camp?"

Mutinous in spite of their Keepers' faith, both men remained silent, glaring at the wardens. Jaris drew closer, forcing one of them to look him in the eye.

"Varas, did Zathrian send you to attack the wardens?"

Varas struggled with himself for a few moments before bursting out; "He wanted to stop the shems from taking advantage of us again! Why should we fight in their war?!"

Jaris looked at Solan, "You knew about this, didn't you?" The other Keeper frowned sourly, refusing to answer. His silence was answer enough.

The tension in the center of the clearing was palpable; Alistair had known it would be difficult to manage this chaos, but had not realized just how much he would feel like the control was slipping from his hands. Already, it seemed like the whole thing was spinning out, and he was keenly aware of the fact they were outnumbered.

"Keepers," Alistair said, nervously aware of how quickly the situation could turn ugly, "We followed Mhairi to the werewolf lair, where the beasts actually refused to fight us. We followed them in, tracking them down to the bottom of the ruins. Several rogue wolves attacked us and were killed. Our commander was bitten," he pointed at Charlotte, still unconscious, "And so was Mhairi. We managed to heal Mhairi, but the curse was in her veins, so we bound her and hid her in one of the rooms we'd cleared earlier. That's where Zathrian found her and… er…."

Elinara paled, looking down at the blade at the end of Zathrian's staff. It was clean, but she'd seen the wound in Mhairi's chest. It wouldn't be difficult to match the two. Clearing his throat, Alistair went on, "Our commander was dying from her bite, so we pressed on, hoping to find a solution. Witherfang came to us in its spirit form and explained what was happening – it even tried to help our commander. When Zathrian arrived, he told us he was going to blame Mhairi's death on us and attacked. We knocked him out and took away his staff, then forced him to lift the curse. I think he did it when he realized how much damage would be done to your clans if he refused."

"How did Mhairi know about all this?" Iishae asked, sniffing. Alistair shifted on his feet; Leliana swooped in to help him.

"She was in love with Zathrian," the bard said sadly. "He'd promised to join with her if she kept his secrets and misled the Grey Wardens."

Elinara closed her eyes, pained by this knowledge. Joining among the elvhen was a sacred act and that it had been used for such nefarious purposes against an innocent soul like Mhairi was deplorable. Lanaya thus far had been too shocked to say anything upon learning of her mentor's crimes. Now, white-faced and tearful, she covered her face, unable to stand more.

No one knew what to say; the Dalish were notoriously sensitive regarding outsiders and distrustful of humans especially. Despite the proof in Zathrian's staff and their mercy toward the two hunters who attacked them, it was difficult for the Dalish to swallow their story. Alistair pressed on, exhausted and determined that this should be over.

"Zathrian perished when he lifted the curse; he'd bound his life to Witherfang's, you see. His robes and ashes are in the ruins still, in the bottom-most chamber where we confronted the wolves."

"Where are the beasts?" Jaris asked abruptly.

"They're human now," Alistair replied firmly. "We've sent them back to our own camp; they are unarmed and without so much as a scrap of clothing. We're going to take them away from here and get them to a human settlement, so they can begin again."

"This is an outrage!" Solan shouted, pointing an accusing finger. "Those beasts should face our justice! You shems always help yourselves first!"

"Oh, and you are such a shining example to elves?" Zevran spat, at the end of his patience. "Setting traps for people who offered to help you in your time of need and calling them names?"

"Enough!" Elinara's harsh tone cracked like a whip. "Wardens, come with the Keepers. We shall speak more on these matters – Athras," she called to an older elf, one whose name sounded familiar to Alistair. "Please take Mhairi to her aravel; we shall lay her to rest this evening."

The man nodded and, with two other elves, took charge of the silent Mhairi. Seeing her carefully wrapped in the blanket made some elves go quiet and observe the wardens with more curiosity than before.

The wardens and their allies followed Elinara, Jaris, and Iishae to another part of the camp. Solan was forced along by Jaris, while Varathorn and some other hunters had taken charge of Varas and Taevin, the two hunters who attacked the wardens at Zathrian's behest. Oghren took an end of Charlotte's stretcher, refusing to give it back to Zevran. Jowan took the other end, but not before patting the burly dwarf on his shoulder. They laid her carefully down on the grass when the Keepers stopped beside some aravels; Mastodon shoved through the gathered legs to sit down at his mistress' side, his expression reproachful.

"Please, Keepers," Petra implored respectfully. "We have done much and our commander needs more advanced healing than I can currently provide."

"What is it that you require?" Jaris asked gently, his eyes softening at Petra. She'd earned some of his respect when she'd made an effort to examine their injured before venturing into the forest.

"Canavaris and spindleweed," she replied, relieved. "I need to brew a potion to reduce her fever."

"I shall have my second attend you," Jaris promised. Calling out in elvish, he brought forth his young apprentice, who agreed to gather the herbs in question and bring them back for Petra to use. Jaris requested Petra remain for questioning until his apprentice came back and she agreed, settling in next to Charlotte to monitor her condition.

"Keepers," Alistair said wearily, "We are tired and have seen much in these past few days. Please, ask us what you must, but we'd appreciate some food and water."

While this was arranged, Elinara took out folding chairs from the aravel and offered them to the wardens. While most of them settled in on the grass, Alistair took a seat along with Aneiren and Leliana; Cullen deferred to Morrigan, offering her the last chair, which she took with a slight preen.

"I have failed thus far to thank you for your efforts," Elinara said with some difficulty when the wardens were eating the stew brought to them. "Those who were bitten recovered suddenly this morning. We knew Zathrian had gone into the forest, but we thought it was to help you. We never dreamed..."

"These are lies, Elinara!" Solan burst out; Iishae glared him down.

"You accuse your sister of falsehood?" she demanded. "She and Jaris have verified the wardens' tale with their own hands and eyes!"

"The humans cannot be trusted!" Solan insisted stubbornly. "How you can host them like guests when they killed one of our own is beyond me!"

"Zathrian met his end by his own hand," Elinara replied dismissively. "You know it is true just as I do, Solan. You are merely bitter in defeat."

"This is not over," Solan promised darkly as he stared Alistair down. "I know what you really are."

Lanaya was recovering after her shock; slowly, she stood. "How dare you, Keeper. How dare you endanger our clans for your own petty menaces! You are a disgrace!"

"Do not address me thus, apprentice!" he snarled in response. Jaris stepped between them, his anger evident.

"You address a new Keeper," he barked, "And she speaks truly. You are a stain on the People, Solan. Your hatred brings us shame."

Solan spun around on his heel and marched away, shoulders hunched. It was clear to all present he had been counting on Zathrian's schemes to satisfy his thirst for human blood.

"What is his problem?" Oghren grunted with disgust. "I mean, that Zathrian lost his kids, so I can kind of understand, but this guy just seems like an asshole."

"Oghren!" Leliana hissed, but Iishae shook her head to indicate no offense was taken.

"Solan has harbored ill feelings towards humans for much of his life; Zathrian took advantage of his anger for his own gain, but that does not excuse what he does now. He defies our council and disgraces his post."

"You speak true, sister," Elinara agreed wearily. "Solan resents human privilege – he has seen our kind suffer for our self-imposed exile. While I understand it, to sacrifice the safety of our clans for his own satisfaction is not forgivable."

Turning back to Alistair, she asked, "Can you tell me more of what happened with Varas and Taevin?"

Alistair nodded to Cullen, who had remained standing in at his side. The warden coughed before speaking. Once again, he explained in detail what happened when they attacked, as well as the precautions they took against Zathrian. When he was finished, Elinara shook her head.

"It grieves me to think of how Zathrian poisoned their minds with hatred. I am grateful they are a part of my own clan, for it might afford me the opportunity to help them. Consumed by anger is no way to live."

"I could not agree more, Keeper," Alistair volunteered. There was one final issue to attend to; "Keeper, with regard to the formerly cursed wolves…."

Elinara interrupted him, eyes narrowed; "Yes, I must admit, warden Alistair, I am unhappy you made a decision without us. We have lost lives to those creatures; should they not face justice for their crimes?"

Bracing himself for her displeasure, Alistair countered, "Keeper, with all due respect, they had attempted peaceful negotiation with Zathrian for a hundred years, only to be insulted and left to suffer. In their place, what would you have done?"

Flushing, Elinara began, "That is not the issue at hand-"

"Is it not?" Iishae asked her fellow Keeper. "I cannot pretend I do not feel angry too, Elinara, but we have witnessed the pain of this curse among our own. They suffered such pain for a century before they attacked us." Shaking her head, the most gentle among the Keepers concluded, "Let this be done. Let there be no more bloodshed."

Elinara and Jaris looked at one another uncertainly; after a few moments of consideration, they both nodded.

"Very well, sister," Elinara spoke with some reluctance. "We will focus on rebuilding. But those-" She pressed her lips together before speaking again, "Do not bring them here, wardens. They are never welcome in our forest again."

Alistair nodded with some difficulty; the food had helped somewhat, but exhaustion was stealing over him. It was an effort to stay upright in his seat.

"You are tired, wardens," Jaris intervened. His apprentice was approaching, his hands full of herbs. "Allow us to host you tonight in honor of your efforts."

For Alistair, it would have been a much happier prospect to simply secure their agreement to the treaty and go back to their own camp, but he knew better than to risk offending them after what they had been asked to accept today. Graciously, he thanked the Keepers for their hospitality.

"We can review the treaties tomorrow," Alistair added carefully, making sure it was known this was expected. When no one objected, he felt his shoulders lower in relief.

"That is well," Elinara agreed. With one hand, she indicated which aravels she wished them to take refuge in for the night.

"We are not displacing anyone, are we?" Leliana asked worriedly. Iishae smiled.

"No, warden, our clans will be comfortable."

The wardens scattered; Morrigan transformed with Aneiren into birds so they could fly to the warden camp and update the others, as well as retrieve any needed supplies. Sten and Cullen took up guard posts around the aravels to ensure no hostile parties could approach. Charlotte was moved into Keeper Elinara's own aravel, where Petra tended her with Lanaya's assistance. Her fever did not abate through the afternoon, but it remained stable. Lanaya, who was informed in elvhen lore regarding werewolves, guessed it would break after she awoke.

"When do you think that will be?" Alistair asked, so weary now his eyes were hooded as he peered into the aravel with concern. Lanaya studied Charlotte some more, casting assessing spells.

"Hopefully by tomorrow," she said finally. "Who could have anticipated such an interaction between the curse and her taint?"

"You can't tell anyone about that," Alistair said severely. "Petra shouldn't have told you in the first place."

Petra flushed, embarrassed by his admonishment. Lanaya smiled at Alistair, trying to be reassuring.

"Warden, I could not betray your secret. Not after what you've done for us."

After some consideration, Alistair nodded, somewhat placated. Withdrawing from them both, he went to his own aravel, which he was sharing with Jowan. Zevran was waiting there, affecting a casual stance, but his face was tense with anxiety.

"How is she?" he asked when Alistair approached. The warden rubbed his face, trying to get some feeling back into it.

"Her fever's the same; they think she'll wake up tomorrow."

Alistair stopped, wishing dearly to go lie down on the bedroll arranged for him and fall asleep, but Zevran didn't seem finished. Eventually, the assassin cleared his throat.

"Sleep well, Alistair."

The elf began to walk away, leaving Alistair too tired to wonder what he was thinking. As Alistair climbed the first wooden step into his aravel, Zevran stopped him with some words spoken stiffly over one shoulder.

"Whatever happens, Alistair, you did well today."

Alistair froze, amazed by the compliment. Before he could form a suitable reply, Zevran was gone.