Blaze moves immediately, back on her feet and ready to follow.

Azry leads them along the highway for some time. The air gets colder, the path gets a little steeper, and just a little ways in the distance, snow can be seen. 

A few hours until dark, Azry stops the group. “Someone’s coming.”

Before anyone can ready weapons, Anwen comes into view, running faster than any horse. She slows upon reaching the group, her face disgusted. Though that was the norm. 

What was not, was the arrow sticking out from her shoulder. 

“Anwen! What happened?!” Azry exclaims. 

Anwen yanks the arrow out of her shoulder, frowning at it like it inconvienced her. “Bandits.” 

“Bandits? How far? How many?” Azry questions. 

“Ahead. Maybe ten.” She pauses. “Zevran is still there.”

Blaze lurches forward, she doesn't know where Zevran is, but-

But she can earn her keep this way, repay him his kindness...

“Well then. We’ve got an assassin to save.”

Azry draws her swords and charges ahead, following Anwen. The rest of the group follow. 

The scene, once they get there, was as Anwen barely described. Ten bandits, all circled around one elf. 

Zevran is dodging weapons, arrows and magic in a fashion that makes the acts look easy, though it is clear from the way he grips his side he is wounded. 

“About time you all showed up!” He calls, spinning under a bandit to stab up at his arm. 

Blaze doesn't even pause, calling on the flames and attacking the nearest bandit with them.

He screams, completely overwhelmed, stumbling away from battle. 

Leliana takes the chance to fire an arrow straight into his neck.

The rest of the group springs into action, evening out the fight for Zevran. 

She stays back, even if instinct tells her to get closer. Uses her fire with brutal efficiency to help.

It seems like the fight is going well in their favour. The last three bandits are fighting furiously, but it is clear that the Wardens will win this. 

The last archer, as a final act of defiance, raises her bow, to point an arrow straight at Blaze. 

Zevran has been steadily moving closer to her, ducking and weaving (grimacing slightly), to make sure someone was close by. 

He notices the archer, and as they loose the arrow, he does a very stupid thing, that he will never regret. 

He thrusts his arm into the path of the arrow, and the arrow pierces it straight through. 

“Ah...fuck.” 

The archer is taken down seconds later, and the battle is over. 

Blaze immediately half-lunges for Zevran and his injured arm. "I- you- you didn't- why?"

She's fussing over him, trying to figure out the easiest way to get the arrow free.

“Well, one never passes up the chance to be the daring hero, no? Especially with your ever so fiery rescue.” 

Zevran groans. “...you would not believe how much this hurts.”

Blaze snaps the arrow on one side of his arm and carefully pulls it free, before setting about healing him, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Ah!” The arrow hurts as much going out as it did going in. “Careful-“

Blaze’s look of concentration stops his words. “Blaze, it’s all right, Wynne is a talented healer. She’ll have me right in no time.” 

He takes the chance to pull his hand from his side. His palm is sticky with blood. “Oh dear. That isn’t good.”

“Step aside, Blaze, I’ll take it from here.” Wynne’s voice is kind, but firm. She rolls up the sleeves of her robe and kneels beside Zev, her hands glowing blue. 

...She could've done it. She would've done it. (She ignores the way she's swaying very slightly.)

Sten grabs her elbow in a steadying gesture. 

Wynne gets to work, one hand on Zevran’s wrist, the other on his side. 

“That was stupid.” Azry sheathes her swords, walking over to Zevran. 

She crouches next to him. “Brave though.”

“I aim to please,” Zevran says, almost automatically. His eyes are on Blaze, and worry is steadily gathering. 

“Wynne, my love, if you’re quite sure I will survive, there is someone else who does not look well.”