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She crashed through wooden slats, roughly broken edges leaving slices all along her body, before finally slamming into solid ground with an overwhelming surge of pain. Her vision swelled, sending stars dancing in front of her eyes as she let out a desperate cry. Forehead pressed against the ground, tears streaming down her cheeks, it took her a few minutes before she could process what had happened. Her pained sobs finally subsided as all feeling in her body dulled to a numb buzz. She was alive. Barely.
She pulled herself to her feet with slow, sluggish movements. The adrenaline that had aided her in facing that... thing was gone, leaving her more exhausted than she'd felt in her whole life. She stumbled forward, steadying herself against what seemed to be a wall, and wishing that she hadn't lost her staff in the chaos above. She closed her eyes, fighting the urge to just lay back down and rest, and focused her mind, drawing on the last of her mana to conjure a small wisp of light, hovering in the air beside her.
As the light spilled outwards, she could see that she'd tumbled into some kind of cave system that lay underneath Haven. The avalanche had closed off the way behind her, and blocked the hole she'd fallen through with rock and snow, leaving only one way forward that she could see. Knowing that right now to stop would be to die, she pressed on into the unfamiliar tunnel, wisp following along beside her to shed light on her surroundings, hoping against all reason that she was heading in the same direction as her allies who had escaped the town.
After what felt to Greta to be an eternity of dragging herself through the various caves and tunnels, which she could only assume were leading her through the mountainside away from Haven, she started to feel a breeze in the air.
"An end to the caves?" She wondered aloud, her voice weak as her entire body shook. Snow had soaked through her clothes, an icy coldness seeping into her bones. Keeping herself moving was taking everything she had.
Rounding the corner in front of her, she found the cave widened out into large carvern. Cold air bit into her face, and looking across from where she was standing, she could see an opening in the rockface, and snow falling beyond. It was only as she took a step forward that she became aware that she was not alone in the cavern. A small group of demons blocked her path to the outside world.
She raised a hand instinctively to protect herself, though she knew she had no mana left in her to call upon. As her palm raised a flash of green light briefly blinded her, an almost welcome warmth spreading along her arm as the mark on her hand flared with magic of its own accord. A small ball of light, similar in appearance to the fade rifts, conjured from the mark, shooting out across the room and settling in the middle of the demons. It rested there for a moment, unassuming, before errupting into a bright blaze. When the light dissipated, Greta found herself standing in an empty cavern, all enemies apparently destroyed.
She let out a sigh, equal parts relief, confusion, and exhaustion, and headed towards the blizzard outside.
She was grateful as she fought her way through the storm, to find that there were signs that the Inquisition had moved through the area. Broken bits of wood here and there, mostly buried, leading up to a campfire that was long abandoned. Whatever footprints might have helped her pick up a trail were long since hidden by the wind and snow, and even though she was closer to her goal than she had been for hours, she couldn't help but feel like there was no hope. She once again had to fight the urge to just lay down to sleep; her mind, almost as tired as her body, telling her she had been through enough and she needed to rest. She swayed a little, legs protesting her weight, before forcing herself to move in a random direction.
She pushed through the snow, slowly, with great effort. She found she was no longer able to track time, too tired and cold to make such calculations. Her breathing was laboured, a result, she assumed, of the cold she could feel settled on her insides. A few more steps, and she realised she was heading towards another abandoned campfire. Embers, she noted, though she couldn't quite seem to remember why that was important. Her knees gave way, sending her tumbling to the ground with a sob of pain and frustration. She had to keep moving. She knew that much, through her mind's confused haze of tiredness and cold. Had to find... someone.
But she even as she tried to drag herself along the floor, to continue on even if she had to crawl through the snow on her hands and knees, she found her eyes closing. Just a little rest, she told herself. Surely it would be ok to take a little rest?
--
Something in the snow. It took Cullen a moment to register this, his eyes tired from searching the darkness for so long, and it wasn't until he was closer that he realised what he was seeing. Their Herald. Greta. Collapsed on the ground, unmoving and half buried by the snow, her usually tawny skin now white with frost and ice. He shouted something to the others, but didn't pay attention to his own words as he rushed forwards to scoop her into his arms. Her clothes were soaked, her body caked in mud and blood. Panic rose up in his chest as he pushed frozen hair from her face to examine her better, his mind racing. How long had she been laying here? How had she made it out of Haven? Maker, please let her be breathing.
She let out a gentle murmur as he lifted her, the words weak and incoherent, her body still limp, but nevertheless enough to send relief flooding through his body as she confirmed that she yet lived. He had no idea how she had possibly survived the avalanche or how she'd managed to make it so close to their temporary camp, but he thanked the Maker all the same, mouthing a silent prayer as he rested her head against the fur of his mantle. Cradling her against his chest to warm her the best that he possibly could, he turned to head back for their camp, sending a scout running ahead to instruct the healers to prepare for her arrival.
He glanced down at her as he made the journey back through the snow, and found that though her eyes were still closed, her mouth was making a faint attempt to form words. He hugged her against him a little tighter, whispering something soothing to let her know she was safe now. That she wasn't alone. He found himself thinking of the way she smiled when she talked to him. Of her laugh when she'd had one ale too many and was happily tipsy. Of the quiet look of determination on her face when she had decided to walk into certain death to give them all a chance at life. Of the way she'd hesitated before she headed out of those chantry doors, with a look in his direction that he couldn't quite read.
His pace quickened somewhat. He would see that she made it to the healers, that she would recover. She had to. There was still so much that he wanted to say to her. And perhaps there was more that she had wanted to say to him as well.