
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/693123.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Dragon_Age, Dragon_Age:_Origins
  Additional Tags:
      Friendship, Love, Arranged_Marriage, Polygamy, Miscarriage, Rites_of
      Passage, Gods, totem_spirits, Magic, Chasind
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-02-21 Chapters: 1/? Words: 3914
****** Under the Wolf Moon ******
by Sylvinessa
Summary
     This began as an RP character based on the Chasind in the Dragon Age
     universe. I'm not sure how many actual cameos there will be. It may
     end up growing into something that becomes a stand alone work
     independent of the DA universe at the way it's going. Either way,
     enjoy!
Snow fell in constant waves of heavy, large flakes, coating the world outside
and muffling everything. The crackling of the fire in the hearth and Nimi’s
pained grunts were the only sounds in the small hut and seemed all the louder
for the silence brought about by the deep drifts outside. Finally, the shrill
cry of a baby pierced the icy night air. After several days of painstaking
labor, the child had finally arrived and was determined to make her presence
known to the world. Mother Dreyia made quick work of tying off the umbilical
cord and wiping the newborn clean in preparation to hand her over to the new
parents, but stopped suddenly. The expression on the healer’s face was nothing
short of pure shock, and she waved her husband over to her side frantically.

Shaman Alev furrowed his brow, puzzled by his wife’s reaction. She’d attended
the births of every child in the tribe for the past decade, but he’d never seen
her act like this. Walking over to her, he peered down at the tiny babe waving
her fists in the air defiantly and stared, just as stunned as his wife. It was
no wonder she’d stopped what she was doing to summon him, for there on the
girl’s hip was the unmistakable brand of Brother Wolf.

***************** Fifteen Years Later ********************

Veylia knelt beside the bloodied corpse, looking but being careful to not touch
it. This was the fifth such find in half as many days and there was no longer
any doubt in her mind that the wolf responsible was infected. The ferocity of
the attacks, the indiscriminate choice in victims, the fact that the bodies
were not consumed for food...it all pointed to the foaming disease. If the
tribe didn’t locate the beast and put it down soon, they would have a crisis on
their hands. She had to tell someone what she’d found.

She knew shouldn’t be out in the woods alone, especially given that she was not
yet sixteen and there was a dangerously ill animal roaming somewhere nearby,
but she never had been the type to sit on her hands in a hut while the menfolk
tended to the hunting. Let the other women hide indoors. She would not be
contained by fear. She was a far better tracker than old Aren, and twice as
fast as that braggart Yuhf. That was how she had come across Niru’s body when
the others had not. She’d managed to follow the almost non-existent trail left
by the seasoned hunter after overhearing his wife state that he hadn’t returned
from the previous night’s hunt. Padra would weep, but at least she would be
able to have peace in knowing what had happened.

Scurrying up a nearby tree, she extracted her hunting knife and went to work
cutting down several of the lower limbs. She needed to report her find to the
rest of the tribe, but she would not leave the potentially tainted blood
uncovered for other innocent animals to become infected. She was careful to
take only those branches that were superfluous; the ones that drained a healthy
tree of much needed water and prevented it from growing as full as needed to
provide adequate shelter to those who needed it. Once she had a suitable pile,
she hopped down and landed in a crouch, barely making a sound as her knees bent
to absorb the shock of her jump. She arranged the branches over the body, doing
her best to provide a thick layer of cover until it could be properly burned
and the soul placed to rest by the Shaman. It wasn’t much, but at least it
would keep larger creatures from getting infected by the contaminated blood on
the ground.

She backtracked along her path, making her way far more quickly back to camp
than it had taken her to reach Niru’s location. With each step closer to home,
she focused on straightening her shoulders and raising her head tall and proud
to help dispel the image of youth that clung to her. The elders would not be
pleased that she had gone out on her own, but they needed to focus on the
dangers posed by the wolf and not whether she were too inexperienced to
participate in hunting it down. The animal was taking seasoned men, so they
would need all the help they could get. She intended to demand a place among
the group that would be dispatched to find the animal, and she was not going to
take no for an answer.

******************************************************

Shamen Alev and Mother Dreyia shared a look between themselves amidst the
shouting of the menfolk of the tribal council. The young woman’s audacity was
unusual for a female of the tribe, but they were not surprised. Everything
about Veylia had broken with tradition from the moment of her birth. She’d been
marked by Brother Wolf as one of his chosen, a rarity for females and doubly so
for such an undistinguished family as hers. That the god of the hunt had chosen
to bless her with a spirit to match her skill just served to remind them that
there was no predicting the will of the gods. Her path would never be that of
other women in the village and after a mutual nod of understanding they made
their feelings on the matter known.

“Let the girl go if she so wishes,” Alev’s voice rumbled through the room,
silencing the bickering warriors and hunters arguing over what to do with
Veylia. “She found our fallen brother when the rest of you did not. We know she
carries Brother Wolf’s favor with her wherever she goes. It would be foolish to
deny the will of the god of the hunt just because her body is that of a girl-
child.”

Jaws dropped around the room, though a few of the men who had strong-willed
wives and daughters of their own hid smirks behind the backs of their hands.
The Shaman rarely spoke up unless he sincerely believed the hand of the gods to
be involved. Confidence bolstered, Veylia stared down the entire group,
refusing to lower her eyes to even the most dominant of personalities present.
She was fearless, of that there was no doubt in anyone’s mind.

Finally Rhali, a warrior with more darkspawn raids under his belt than any
other present, broke the silence. “Then the girl goes,” he boomed, glaring back
at the impertinent whelp of a girl who dared to challenge their traditions.
“But do not expect anyone to coddle her. She does so with the full
responsibility of anyone else on the hunt. Her safety is in her own hands. We
leave at first light.”

That settled it, even though the majority of the men present were clearly
unhappy about the decision. Veylia bowed her head once in the way of
acknowledgement between men and said nothing. The remainder of the meeting was
to be filled with discussions between the most experienced of the tribe on how
to best hunt down the wolf. She excused herself to lead a smaller party back to
the location where she’d left Niru’s body so his spirit could be put to rest.
Already, she was making a list of what she would need on the morrow, excited by
the prospect that she was being allowed such an honor. She had no concern for
her own well-being on the hunt. The tribe would be protected, and that was all
that mattered.

***********************************************

Dawn crept into the village on cat paws, completely unnoticed by everyone in
the tribe save those who had gathered to track down the rabid wolf. Veylia had
bound her unruly blonde hair back tightly, wearing it in a more severe fashion
than even many of the men with long hair standing nearby. She would not afford
herself any distractions on this day. She’d been granted a place of honor by
being allowed to join the adults and she would not disgrace herself by being
anything less than her best.

A few of the men continued to give her sideways glances while the Shaman asked
for Brother Wolf’s blessing upon the group. The last time the foaming sickness
had befallen their home had been over a generation ago, and many lives had been
lost before the infected wildlife had all been eradicated. If they moved
quickly, they might be able to stop the epidemic before it really started. The
problem with tracking rabid animals was that they did not follow logical
patterns of behavior once the disease took hold. They wouldn’t be able to make
assumptions about where the wolf was heading until they actually came across
him. Veylia knew the men looking at her were wondering about the intelligence
of allowing such an inexperienced person to go with them when the rules of the
hunt couldn’t be counted on to remain constant. Luckily, with Shaman’s backing
none of them would question her presence openly and so she made up her mind to
ignore their gazes.

Once their ritualistic preparations out of the way, the group split up into
smaller bands and set out to search for recent signs of the wolf’s passing.
Veylia’s party headed in the direction where she had found Niru in the hopes
that the animal’s trail would still be readable. It was over a day old at this
point, but it was also the last known location of the creature. They could not
overlook the chance that their prey might still be in the area.

A heavy layer of dew clung to everything, and even the most waterproof of their
gear quickly became soaked through. Already the tell-tale haze of humidity hung
in the air, indicating the day was shaping up to be uncomfortable by all
possible reckonings. In a way, that helped their cause as fewer creatures would
be inclined to move about in the oppressive summer heat once the sun climbed a
bit higher in the sky. Only something afflicted with the foaming sickness would
be insensible enough to travel while the others sought shelter to wait out the
heat of the day.

At least, that was what Nielri, the eldest hunter of the group, insisted as
they made their way through noisily through the woods, the men of the party
confident their prey had moved on and therefore not bothering to mask their
presence. Twice, Veylia tried to caution them that they should move more
carefully, only to be rebuffed each time by guffaws and pats on her head. In
fact, it almost seemed to her like they made an effort to be even louder
whenever she said something, so she quit trying and followed along in silence
while the others boasted of their recent sexual conquests.

Nielri was in the middle of telling a crude joke when disaster struck. A loud
snarl was all the warning the group received before a flash of gray and black
launched itself from the bushes. Powerful jaws clamped around the soft flesh of
the eldest’s neck and yanked hard, tearing Nielri’s throat completely free in a
spray of crimson droplets. The two men behind the fallen hunter scrambled to
chase after the beast, while Veylia scurried up a nearby tree and unslung her
bow from her shoulder. She knew better than to try to get in close to a crazed
animal to dispatch it, but the others seemed to have forgotten that most basic
rule in the surprise of losing one of their own so quickly.

“Get out of the way!” she snarled from her perch above the fray, trying to get
a clear line of sight on the wolf with an arrow.

Neither man listened, and it was Parah who fell next, screaming in pain while
the wolf sank its teeth into the hunter’s shoulder. The wolf continued snapping
its jaws at Parah’s neck and face while Jathor tried to pull the beast from the
other hunter, completely blocking Veylia’s view of the body. It was clear
Jathor was reacting rather than thinking, because his knife stayed sheathed on
his hip while he wrestled with the frenzied beast that was removing chunks from
his friend. When Jathor made a grab at the wolf’s scruff, it whirled on him
instinctively and bit down on the largest open target it could reach, leaving
the third hunter with a gaping wound in his side from which pieces of the man’s
entrails dangled. He let go, either from pain or death - Veylia couldn’t be
sure, and the wolf bounded off into the brush heading toward the village before
she could fire a single shot.

She swore loudly. In a matter of seconds her entire hunting party had been
decimated entirely through their own carelessness. She didn’t bother checking
on the condition of the wounded. She was no healer and even if the injuries
hadn’t already killed them, they would need far more help than she would be
able to provide on her own. Instead, she slung her bow back over her shoulder
and took to the pathway made by the sturdy branches of the great trees of the
forest, relying on her slight frame and low weight to allow her to travel
quickly on the trail of the diseased wolf without placing herself in the same
situation that had claimed the rest of her party. She only had one goal now; to
stop the beast from reaching the village and taking any further lives.

She raced along the thick branches, jumping from tree to tree. She could see
the wolf ahead of her on the ground, weaving its way through the underbrush
with no real sense of rhyme or reason to its flight. At one point, it made a
complete loop around a small clearing before continuing on its path in the
general direction of her village at breakneck speed. She needed it to slow down
or she was going to lose it at this rate. The only thing keeping her on its
tail was the haphazard manner in which it ran along, looping around trees and
changing direction at random.

At last, it darted inside of a cave she recognized as a popular hiding place
for village children. She’d often played there alone herself, exploring the
shadows and crevices created by the jagged rocks inside, and so she knew there
was no other way into or out of the dark maw. Sooner or later the beast would
have to emerge. She just needed to be patient. Panting hard to catch her
breath, she climbed down from the tree she was in and removed her bow. She
chose a spot that was concealed from view to set up and nocked an arrow.
Feeling as prepared as she was going to get, she waited.

Sweat trickled down Veylia’s nose, prompting a sudden urge to slap at her face.
The sun had climbed high in the sky while she’d been tracking the wolf alone
through the forest. The instant she saw movement she would loose her arrow, but
not yet. A fly buzzed around her head; no doubt sent by the gods to test her
focus. She would not be tricked so easily, especially not after witnessing what
happened to Nielri, Parah, and Jathor. Let the men mock her for being a girl-
child playing at the hunt. They didn’t understand what it was like to feel the
call of Brother Wolf in their veins the way she did. She ran with him every
night in her dreams, and studied his children by day.

As time slipped by the minutes slackened their pace to a crawl, passing with
aching slowness that left her longing to be able to get up and stretch her
tense limbs. Her mind was free to drift, but her body remained taut and ready
for the wolf to reappear. She’d been aiming her longbow at the cave entrance
for over an hour now; a fact of which her shoulders complained bitterly. She
would not let the her target get away, but she was not foolish enough to go in
after it. The cave was too dark, and there were too many places where he could
be positioned where she wouldn’t see it until it was too late. No, she would
wait. She would not make the same mistake as the other hunters.

A rustling in the bushes off to the right of the cave entrance caught her
attention. The cadence suggested a two-legged visitor rather than four, which
worried her and caused time to all but come to a complete stop. Moments later,
a boy she recognized as Shaman Alev’s youngest popped out, skipping carelessly
through the underbrush on his way to play in the cave and making as much noise
as only children could make. Veylia didn’t even have time to call out a warning
to Maty before the beast leaped out to attack the source of the sound, though
to her eyes it seemed to float like a feather carried on a lazy breeze. She
reacted on instinct, swivelling her arrow to track the arc of the wolf’s path
and releasing it to strike where she anticipated it would cross before her.

Maty shrieked in terror and cowered in the pose of one who could feel Lady
Death’s cold finger on his shoulder, but that final touch never came. When he
opened his eyes, the wolf lay dead on the ground before him, the shaft of an
arrow protruding from its eye socket. Veylia’s aim had been perfect, and time
again moved at its normal pace. Rising from her hiding spot opposite the cave,
she walked over to the young boy to ensure he hadn’t been hurt and move him
away from the dangerous blood and foam pooling beneath the wolf’s head.

“Go, Maty, and fetch your father,” she instructed once she was certain he was
unharmed. “Tell him he is needed to cleanse this area. The wolf is a threat no
longer.” The boy nodded his assent and darted off back to the village. It
wouldn’t take him long to bring the Shaman, she knew, as they were less than a
half-mile from the nearest hut. Truth be told, she’d be surprised if someone
hadn’t overheard the boy’s scream and was already on the way.

She knelt beside the animal and inspected it now that it was safe to do so. It
was much larger than she’d expected, probably weighing as much as she did, if
not more. Likely, he’d been the pack alpha before being infected given his
unusual size. She understood a bit better how he’d taken down so many of their
hunters. It was a shame, really. Even in sickness, he was beautiful. The fur
had not yet taken on the matted, diseased look of a creature who had been
afflicted with the foaming sickness for more than a few days. They were lucky,
then. The longer it was ill, the more likely it was to infect other animals
rather than mauling them to death, as his strength would have begun to fade
before much longer once the disease had thoroughly eaten its way through his
brain. He hadn’t yet deteriorated that far, but it wouldn’t have taken more
than a day or two more at most.

Numerous footsteps clomped heavily on the game path in her direction,
signalling the arrival of the Shaman and several others. She stood beside her
kill to receive them, bowing her head solemnly when they appeared.

“Shaman Alev,” she greeted with an incline of her head as she’d witnessed her
older brothers do when they’d met with the man in the past. The elder man
dwarfed her in size, as did those who’d arrived with him, but she still locked
eyes with him as if she were of equal stature. She pointedly ignored the
whispers and stares of the warriors gathered at the Shaman’s back. She cared
not that they found it shocking that she alone had taken down a beast
responsible for the deaths of so many well-trained men in their tribe. It had
needed to be done and she had been the one blessed to carry out the task. The
Shaman, at least, appeared unsurprised and almost a bit amused by the sight of
her there, which was all that really mattered.

Admittedly, one of the warriors was harder to dismiss from her mind than the
others, but Tamen the Brave had that effect on women. Even if he hadn’t been
the image of a god brought to life, his skill alone made him a desirable match
for any female. He’d been a prodigy within the tribe as well, leading men twice
his age in battle against the darkspawn that continually harassed their people
at a time when he’d barely come into his own manhood. He stood off to Alev’s
right, slightly behind the Shaman, but his presence filled the area moreso than
anyone else there. He had eight winters on her in age, placing him at only the
beginning of his prime. He’d already been blessed with three wives for his
prowess; a rare feat considering the best of warriors normally only warranted
two if they were lucky. Allowing their best to take multiple wives ensured the
tribe had no shortage of strong men to lead them in the future, and Tamen’s
bloodline was one of the most highly regarded by their people.

“The hunt was successful, though not without losses. Did Parah or Jathor make
it back?” Veylia asked, forcing her eyes back to Alev’s face. Her tone and
posture were formal as she spoke; an attempt to add those last few months of
age she lacked to be considered a full adult by the tribe. She didn’t bother
asking about Nielri. He’d been quite obviously dead before she’d set off after
the wolf on her own. When the Shaman shook his head she sighed, though his
answer didn’t surprise her. “Then I expect they will be found along with Nielri
where the wolf ambushed us. We were not far from where Niru fell.”

Without waiting for direction from the Shaman, three of the men set off
immediately in the direction she’d indicated to go retrieve their fallen
brethren. Alev held his hand in front of Veylia’s forehead and began speaking
as if he hadn’t noticed their departure. “Truly, child, you have been blessed
by Brother Wolf to achieve what others could not. Your actions not only ensured
the safety of our tribe, but you saved my own son in the process. Tonight, we
will sing of your deeds as we give thanks to the gods for gracing us with such
a hunter. Your actions have brought honor to your family. This day will be
remembered by all.”

Veylia blinked in surprise, then stared up at Alev. The Shaman intended for
their people to sing of her? That was something only reserved for the best of
the tribe; someone like Tamen. Her eyes flicked toward the warrior in question
impulsively in an attempt to gauge his reaction to the Shaman’s words. His
expression was impossible for her to read, but his unwavering gaze left her
feeling unsettled for reasons she was unable to name. Resolutely, she pushed
her discomfort aside and bowed her head once more in respect.

“Th-thank you, Shaman,” she said softly. “I shall do my best to continue to
bring honor to my family and the tribe.”
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