When he smiled at her, Aedre let herself grin right back up to him. She had, of course, seen elves before but never in this light. Her village would be happened upon by the Dalish every few years, but Aedre had never been permitted to speak to them. She had always been enamored by the elves, however, and would always be, especially after this happenstance.
As she listened to his words, the little girl seemed a bit confused. Some of them were big even for children, let alone a child who was just beginning to learn the King’s Tongue.
“Diz-eezed,” she sounded out the word as her eyes left Valan’s to look at the wolf. She knew the word in her own language, though it could mean just about anything and she would be happy to hear it. “Is that meaning sick?” She had heard from the elder and other villagers that those who had come in contact had become sick, and needed care in more than simple healing. That was why their job was so difficult.
She knew his next questions’ words, and though was unaware of it, was making note of how he phrased them. If she could listen to Valan talk forever, she would learn the King’s Tongue in no time. As the base of her seven-year-old crush, she could simply stand there all day and watch as he and Fedrel took care of the animal.
“It is you pelt,” she told him, shaking her head as if that was something unheard of. Indeed, the Dalish and the Chasind shared many traditions, and most of their ideals were based on hunting, honouring their kills and wearing the furs of those animals to symbolize their place in the wilds. “My family sleeps while you kill. It is you wolf pelt, not for me.” Gesturing with one hand, she made sure to make that fact clear to Valan.
As Fedrel drew his knife, Aedre glanced over with a worried look. She immediately shouted, “Wait!” Dropping the bucket, she caught eyes with the startled elf. “The spirit needs guidance,” she told him without pause, for those were words she knew quite well. “He was sick and scary, but the soul is lost. I will release him.”
The little girl, though no shaman and certainly no mage yet, kneeled in front of the wolf’s deathly form. She met its cold, lifeless eyes before shutting hers. Her people believed that shaman had the ability to restore the souls of the deceased – be they humans, animals or plants – and to send them to a peaceful death before returning to the world once more. While she muttered words under her breath, she was nowhere near practiced enough to achieve the task of sending him off, but her efforts were certainly to be commended. After a minute or two of the ritual, Aedre opened her eyes, took one last look at the animal, and then rose and walked back to Valan.
“He will not scare our spirit world now. We will not dream of wolf and he will be able to dream again.” She was quite proud of herself for that, and though Valan might not have understood it, she was bursting with joy at the honour of performing that ritual. And it was quite obvious with the toothy smile that spread across her cheeks.