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A rotten day in Cassian's opinion. There had been no progress made on their long journey to Brecilian Forest due to storms. A majority vote from the team had decided they’d be better off waiting it out than spending an entire day trudging and exhausting themselves with the weather. Wynne had also chimed in that it was a chance for them to recover from several days of nonstop travel.
The lack of movement made Cassian a tad disgruntled. He’d rather be making headway, but he had to consider what was best for the team, not just himself. However, in hindsight, it turned out to be a positive that they were staying put because, to make matters worse, Dog was feeling unwell. There had been some groaning and whimpering to get Cassian’s attention, and since then, they had both been settled inside his tent with the flaps open to peacefully watch the rain and camp.
Cassian had cleaned up his armor, rearranged his pack, and was now sharpening his sword while Dog slept off the stomachache. It was some overdue quiet time to consider how he got here to this very moment, how far he had gone since the attack on his family's- the thought was soon interrupted by Zevran, who walked up to the tent.
“Care if I sit and join you on this gloomy day?”
With whetstone still in hand, Cassian motioned to the space on the other side of Dog. Between his height and Dog’s typical mabari size, there wasn’t an abundance of space. Zevran shrugged off his cloak and joined anyway, seeming to gladly take up residence inside the dry tent. He laid a leather knife roll on the ground, which revealed an impressive collection as it was opened. Zevran pulled out his sharpening and oiling kit and got to work on his own weapons.
They continued in silence for a while. Cassian found he enjoyed the sounds of stone on metal as the rain softly pelted the tent's canvas. There was a relaxing nature to it, the sounds of something simple in a tumultuous time.
“So, Warden, does the Order have assassins, or are you all warriors, rogues, and mages?” asked Zevran.
“I don't believe darkspawn need assassin contracts put on them.”
Zevran hummed and smirked at the reply. “Shame I won’t be able to get a job then, after this is all said and done.”
Cassian huffed before turning his focus back to his sword.
“You have kept yourself away in your tent all day. Any reason why?”
He nodded his chin at his now ward. “Dog doesn’t feel well.”
“Oh? What happened?”
“I'm not certain," said Cassian, looking down at his four-legged companion. "Sometimes he gets into things he shouldn't. Overly ripe berry bushes or something in the woods. I would not be surprised if that was the case."
"Well, I can assure you that he did not get into any of my poisons," replied Zevran. A bad joke, but a well-intended joke nonetheless.
Dog groaned before stretching. The mabari shifted his weight around and sprawled between the two of them, his chin eventually coming to rest on Zevran's lap. Cassian raised an eyebrow, curious about the show of trust and affection to someone other than himself. For a mabari, Dog was relatively friendly, but his loyalty had always belonged to Cassian. When Zevran arrived on the team, Dog had warmed up to him more quickly than to most others, and with very little bribery, which was how Alistair and Leliana had managed to win over the animal in the long run.
"He seems to like you."
"What can I say?" smirked Zevran. "My vibrant personality is liked by many. Though I'm not sure what to do with dogs."
"He enjoys the spot behind his ears being scratched."
Zevran raised an eyebrow before cautiously placing his hand on Dog's head and finding the soft spot of fur behind his ears to scratch. Dog let out a pleased groan and sigh and leaned more into Zevran.
Absolutely no more loyalty left in the world, joked Cassian to himself. "I'd like to think Dog has a good judge of character."
"And what does that judge of character say about me, hm?"
"That you're—"
“Has anyone seen the other half of my boot?” asked Alistair, calling out to everyone from the center of camp, half-cloaked, half-drenched, and desperately looking around. He was standing with one foot in a complete boot and one foot in the mud.
“You mean your other boot, no?” inquired Leliana.
“No, the other half of one boot.” He held up the boot in question. The top portion of it was missing. What remained had chew marks punctured all over it, and the sole was half-torn off.
Cassian’s gaze went from Alistair and back down to Dog, who now refused to look at him. There was another shift in weight as he moved closer to Zevran. Then, just beyond the tent, he spotted a pile of shredded leather. It was likely that Dog had ingested some of it, but the majority of the boot lay to rest in a pile of now-sopping-wet bits and pieces.
“We don’t tell Alistair,” muttered Cassian.
“Don’t tell him what?” asked Zevran, clearly having not noticed the crime scene yet.
"Exactly."