Two words make her blood run with an awful chill, and thing that makes the suggestion of a sneer flicker around the corners of her mouth and her nose, disappearing almost before it could be noticed.

"The People," she repeats, rather deliberately. A distance is in it, and to Herian's own ears it feels as though her voice comes from far off. Her heart beats harder; pain wells in her chest, squeezing at her lungs and seeming to weigh on them. It is a familiar thing, this feeling that she must fight for her breath, and she stands there as upright and ably as if her lungs and heart were not staggering in her chest.

For a moment, everything else Healer Ancarrow says is pushed slightly aside, to be reexamined later. "And what have the Dalish ever done for the elves of the cities that did not bring them pain?"