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Bark, bark, bark.
Erina sat up straight from her bedroll after the third bark, heart racing. She wrapped a sheet around herself hurriedly, grabbed a dagger, and stumbled out of her tent. Wrex came running to her feet and bumped her calves with his lowered forehead, urging her forward.
Running barefoot across the very cold, damp campgrounds, (jumping over Alistair in the process), she followed/was propelled by Wrex to a wooded area on the edge of camp. In the starlit shadows, she detected subtle motion, roughly in the form of an elf-sized person.
Clutching the sheet to her chest, she plowed through the brush and came to a stop two feet from Zevran’s back.
“Stop what you’re doing!” Erina demanded.
He was leaning against a tree, and, along with Erina’s tired breathing, the sound of trickling liquid was all that she heard. It didn’t stop.
Zevran cleared his throat. “It is rather difficult to stop once I have started, my dear Warden.”
“Oh, Andraste’s twat,” Erina sighed, glaring down at the mabari.
Wrex looked up at Erina and tilted his head to the side, as if to ask “What? You just said if he got up.”
“Our prophetess’s twat is in trouble? No wonder you came to me,” Zevran said with a laugh as he fastened his pants. “I am turning around now.”
“Please don’t; it might prove this is really happening,” Erina sighed to herself, staring up at the beautiful, starry sky. When she looked back down, Zevran was leaning against a different tree and looking her over.
“Do I make you nervous?” he asked, his tone casual and amused.
“What makes you think I’m nervous?” Erina groused.
“You set your dog to watch me?”
Erina shrugged, feigning ignorance. “You’re an assassin. It’s smart to wonder where you’re going at night.”
“You brought a knife,” Zevran observed.
“You did too,” Erina argued, pointing to the holster on his hip. “You bring a knife to pee?”
Zevran gestured to the carcass of a deer a few yards away. “I do not fancy meeting a wolf with, as you say, my pants down.”
“A likely story.”
Zevran laughed again, and Erina tried not to notice the warm feeling in her chest that the sound produced.
“Warden,” his voice was a husky whisper, “you ran naked across the campground just to see me.”
“I have a sheet!” she countered angrily.
Zevran pushed away from the tree, stalking closer to her. “You are saying you do not trust me.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But, I have a question.”
“Of course you do.”
Zevran stopped a few feet in front of her and tilted his head, clearly observing her form. “If you do not trust me, why are you standing naked and alone with me in the woods at night?”
Erina laughed. “You’re not dangerous when you’re alone and I’m awake.”
He held a hand over his heart. “Oh, Warden. Your strikes are deadly.”
“Maybe I’m an assassin, too,” Erina taunted him.
In a blur, her legs were knocked out from under her by a sweeping kick from Zevran. She toppled forward, only to find a strong arm grasping her from behind, pulling her back against a tree. The knife in her hand was gone, pressed to her throat on the flat edge. Hot lips were suddenly near her pointed ear, whispering.
“I would not be able to do that to an assassin,” he hissed, before kissing her delicately on the cheek. He released her and tossed her dagger back to her.
Her heart was only just catching up to what had transpired. It was racing, propelling the adrenaline in her veins. She caught the dagger in one hand, grasping her sheet tight against herself in the other.
“But you would make a fine pupil someday,” Zevran was saying casually.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Erina demanded, loudly. “How am I supposed to trust you after that shit?”
He grinned at her. “Perhaps you aren’t. I look forward to another meeting in the dark, my dear Warden. But for now, I must get some sleep before we fight… what was it, darkspawn?”
Erina gritted her teeth in frustration at his slippery and flippant nature. “You are insane. Truly.”
“Yes, but am I dangerously so?” His hair and eyes were shining in the light of the moon. “Would it not have been in my best interest to slit your throat and take my leave now?”
“You want points for not killing me,” Erina said flatly, in disbelief.
“Ahh, points. This is a game, then?”
She scowled. “It seems like everything is a game to you.”
“Only those I can win,” he admitted with a shrug.
“Well, I come from a life of losing hands. I stopped playing a long time ago.”
Zevran frowned, taking her words in for a moment. “Perhaps it is time to start?”
“Playing?”
“Indeed. If you never play, you can never win. Life is a gamble.”
“Bullshit. You just said you only play if you’re sure to win.”
Zevran laughed once more. “Yes, but I cheat. Life is a gamble, but you can skew the odds in your favor. Think on that.”
He started to saunter back toward camp, leaving her in the dark, in a sheet, trying to make sense of his mystic advice.
”Bullshit,” she muttered to herself as she gave up, returning to her tent. Try as she might, however, she could not get his words out of her mind. Time to start playing what? How do you cheat at a war when you’re outnumbered?
Before her eyes slipped shut, Erina decided that Zevran’s favorite place to strike was not the throat at all, but her sanity.