Big Salmon Lake the queens justice

It had been at once that he and Arcturus had left the steepled slopes of Moonspear, steadfast in the wake left behind by the blistering pace that Hydra had set. Somewhere along the way they had caught up with the duo, and it was there that Dirge first laid a proper gaze on the spread of scarring along Andraste's back. It had been a focal point from thereon, unintentionally, but until they reached the low lying fog near the lake he had to admit he had never seen anything quite like it. And left there, by lightning? Fascinating, though a wonder she had even survived at all.

His wonders were dispatched easily when Arcturus had fanned out from there; he choose to do this also, though he remained firmly in earshot of his raven-haired wife. If she saw something in the mist, he wanted to be sure that he would see and hear it too... and there was a resolute part of him that found unease in the anger that consumed her at once. It was more than just maternal instinct or pride at play. It was seething, rich; it burned with a fire that radiated from her and dared to enrapture all of them if not for cooler heads prevailing—he had been one in thought with Arcturus, albeit with no protest on the premise of it doing little.

All he—and perhaps they—could hope for was that the assailants had not entirely left the area, and were not making a blazing trail up to the winding slopes. Lyra and Alya and Jarilo could hold their own and of that he was most certain, but when it boiled down to it the longer they could keep the evils of the present world at bay the better. In part to protect his own from the harsh reality of the oncoming winter and how it would drive unsavory fiends mad, and in part to protect the older charges of more trauma.

But the lake itself seemed a void. If not for the notably grim reason they were there, it would have been a tranquil locale. He heard the call of a disrupted heron, even geese skybound and off to warmer climes; but there were no signs of anything remotely of interest or worth sinking their teeth into yet. Not even a bellow from some ungulate happy for water—only silence between the ambient din of their motions and breath.

Andraste's voice picked up but he only half-heard it; his focus was drawn away towards the unseen in the haze shrouding the shore and behind it bloomed a fierce apprehension of what lurked there still. A body no doubt, but scavengers? Murderers? The uncertainties did not thrill him or incite him to hold fast to ire, and his gaze pierced through all he could manage as they closed in.

"Let's just make sure this isn't some elaborate trap first," he tacked on pointedly. If Hydra's little friends were there and had turned rogue, then there was no telling... or if those that remained had even survived at all. Perhaps now the lake would be home to more than one body.