If this were a story a friend were telling, it would start like this: Everything was dark, but not everything was quiet.

But friends are not here, only gangs that roam dark causeways, looking for prey. Fenris is not prey, but that's not why he's here. There's money to be made in nighttime violence. He's never forgotten that.

He forgets about other things, like bystanders. He doesn't recognize Astarion at first, and puts himself between him and the woman fighting him with two curved daggers. "Hide!"

Fenris' tattoos flare to light, and he pushes forward.