<strong>Abandoned Cart<br/>The Imperial Highway<br/>Somewhere North of Ostagar</strong><br/><br/>The footfalls came to an abrupt stop as Eluv'yan spoke.  The man may not be very quiet, but he was apparently fairly good at hiding.  As the two Wardens scanned the treeline, they could not find him, even with the ambient light from the Darkspawn horde's fires.<br/><br/>"Maker shelter me!" the unknown man said when she finished, loud enough that they could easily narrow his location down to a clump of shrubs ten paces from the cart, even if they still couldn't see him.  He had a Ferelden accent, the voice of a peasant or poor farmer.  A country bumpkin.  "You're Wardens!  I--  I thought you were Darkspawn, honest!  That farmer was dead when I found him, I swear it's true!  This was 'is bow and arrows!"<br/><br/>His frightened voice cut through the silence, that odd quiet unique to falling snow having muffled everything else.  Beneath the lilting accent, there was a shakiness to his voice.  Was it the tremor of a lie, or was he simply too cold to talk smoothly?  It was impossible to tell.  He did not reveal himself.