They can't just leave them here?

"Should we like... burn the bodies? Or something?"

"Hawke usually loots and then burns them. The Dalish will just leave them. For their own people to find. We have no interest in helping our attackers."

"I guess that makes sense. Even if it makes me feel gross. Well, them being dead makes me feel awful. So I suppose adding this to the pot won't affect much."

Okay, she's rambling now she should stop.

"It's okay, Anya. Humans and elves treat death different."

"Looks like it. Do you think you could tell me more about it? Maybe not right now..."

"Of course! Always happy to teach others the Elvhen ways. Though, I suppose, you'd be the first shem to ask."

"What, no other human has ever been curious?"

"Not any that I've met."

"Most shems would consider anything outside the Chant heresy. And anyone wanting to learn is not doing that out of a want to foster understanding."

Tabs has moved as close back to the path as she can, avoiding looking at the bodies.

"Regardless. I want to know more. I hunger for knowledge," she attempts at humor.

"Reading encyclopedias for fun is my brand, thank you very much," Tabs says, smiling over at her. 

"Nerd."

Tabs stuck her tongue out at Anya.

Merrill leads them into a wide, sheltered clearing, where the only sounds are the wind, the gulls, and the distant crashing of the ocean. 

She slams her staff against the ground, and roots spring up, arching and flowering quickly. "Ah, that feels better."

"Miss the forest?"

"Always. Fereldan is...easier. The Free Marches have too many differing views."

Merrill slams her staff into the ground, and vines ripple through the earth around the space, and then wards flash up in a small radius. "This should give us some warning, in case of Templars. Or guards. Or bandits. Or qunari!" 

"No shortages of foes."

Anya sits down against a rock.

"So I've kinda been magicless for a long while, not including today, I guess. I'm thinking I need some sort of refresher."

"They Silenced you a lot in the Circle? Anders told me about it once. It sounds terrible. I suppose I'm glad that the Chantry usually leaves the Dalish on their own. I would hate to be without my magic. It would like losing a limb, and I couldn't tell you which one of my arms and legs I'd rather lose. Oh! Sorry. I'm rambling." 

Silenced?

She looks over at Tabs, trying not to be too obvious in her confusion.

"Yeah, you were telling me on the way here, Anya, that the Templars used to take your magic away. It's like, anti-magic, right?" 

She winks.

"Oh. They called it something different. 'Negation', mostly. But. Yes. I haven't really recovered a lot? It messes with my head a bit."

Merrill shudders affectedly. "I hope it never happens to you ever again. Though, knowing Hawke, we might end up fighting Templars again. Anders will be happy, at least." 

She shakes out her hands, swapping her staff between them. "I can help you, if you like? I'm afraid I only know the way I was taught, though." 

Look at them. Master manipulators. She feels kind of icky about it.

"I'd really love that, Merrill. Learning from your sounds like a dream."

It seems to take Merrill a few minutes to stop blushing at the praise, stammering through 'you don't have to say that' and 'that's really far too kind'.

As a teacher, however, she's kind and patient, and doesn't seem to mind sharing Elvhen techniques with Anya.