Pride, Wolf and Rebellion

Butchered

"Inquisitor, stop," said Solas.

Fen'Asha was trudging away from him, away from the blood-spattered scene of the now-headless Kaltenzahn and its trails of guts and brains. The snow kicked up under her heavy steps as she went, her staff swinging.

Sera and Cassandra walked next to her, while Solas fell into a slower gait after his urgings failed to rouse the Inquisitor. Cole walked beside him, trying to draw attention to the crystallized trees and the ice-sculpted peaks in the distance.

"It is lovely," Solas said at last.

"Even the hottest fire cannot melt the heart," said Cole. "It cries out, but there are no tears. There is no water to fall, nothing in the bones. It lingers, but lifeless."

"There is life, still," said Solas. "But it is distant."

"Something blocks it," said Cole. "Something cold."

"Ice," said Solas. "It appears you are speaking in circles."

Cole paused to snap an icicle from the limb of a tree. "Breath touched by ice is visible to the eye," he said. "With breath touched by ice, she could see your intentions..."

Fen'Asha pretended not to hear as she neared what looked to be a hollowed-out arena. The Highland Ravager lay inside.

"What was this used for?" Cassandra wondered as she looked up at the multi-level structure.

"Nug fights," said Sera with a snicker.

Solas strode to the front of the Inquisition and looked up at the arena. "It has been overgrown by time," he said. "We should be cautious."

Fen'Asha sighed and stomped forward.

The group followed, Solas carefully eyeing the Inquisitor as she scaled around the bottom of the arena and found the entrance point. She stalked through it.

The Highland Ravager lay on the ground, just like the Kaltenzahn before her. One of the most dangerous breeds of dragon in Thedas, the Highland Ravagers were social animals. Luckily, this dragon was alone. There was little room in the arena for a companion anyway, so its choice of solitude was probably a good thing.

The Ravager snarled and turned in place, its great wings struggling to achieve their full span without scraping against the stone walls.

"How did she get in here?" asked Cassandra as she drew her sword and walked onto the floor of the arena.

"She is agitated," said Solas. "Do not mistake its silence for..."

With a shout, Fen'Asha sprang ahead of Cassandra and aimed a plume of flame at the head of the Highland Ravager. She called out for the duration of the blast, expecting to see a smoking, devastated cranium – just like the Kaltenzahn's.

There was nothing.

The flame struck the side of the dragon, but it didn't move. It didn't yelp or wail. It didn't thrash against the too-small confines of the arena. It didn't lift a massive eyelid. It sat. After a while it huffed.

"Shit," said Sera. "Move." She skittered into the arena, following Cassandra to the far side while Fen'Asha examined her staff and positioned herself on the opposite wall. Solas planted himself at the entrance, with Cole scaling the side wall above the action.

"Charge the leg," directed Fen'Asha as she readied her staff for another blast.

Sera snapped off a pair of arrows and struck the Ravager in the back of the leg, finally drawing a reaction from the massive dragon. It shuffled, not hurt but uncomfortable. The wings spun, dragging against the stone walls and heaving chunks of rock down into the arena.