It had been something of a tradition, a silly little thing that they had heard about once. One of the elders was talking about running away to join the Dalish - in the end, they found out, he had been killed on the road, but this was much later because you just did not tell wide-eyed children that kind of story - and he was sat in the middle of a group of younglings as he packed his few trinkets into a bag. The actual packing, of course, was taking much longer than necessary as he weaved them tales of tradition. Looking back, Shianni wonders how much was really true and how much was bullshit he had been told as a youngling by some foolhardy elder who had ended up dead on the road.
Nevertheless, this one thing had stuck.

*****

"You're leaving."
Your cousin lets out a frustrated huff of air. "Yeah."
"I... is it wrong that I want you to stay? Just for a little while."
"I wish I could, Shianni, but I don't really have much of a choice. Duncan says we need to be out of the city by dusk."
"I know." You let out a deep sigh as you regard your dearest cousin, armed and ready for a fight. It looks natural on her. You wish you were so prepared for your own battles. "I love you, cousin."
She smiles, taking your hands gently in her own. "Love you too." Kissing the back of your hands in turn, she squeezes your fingers gently. You mimic the action, the taste of her skin already dusty under your lips. "I'll be back. Promise."
"Keep your tracks hidden and your memories of home worn," you say.
"Sing of my victories and remember my peace," she replies, and you embrace one last time before she walks out of your life.