Ferelden, Free Marchers... the words buzzed by Lara's ears, meaningless, and her heart thumped. Even her usual curiosity dampened by a sudden spike of worry.

Just how deep was she in it, here?

It was so fierce there was a strange sort of relief when the woman mentioned the mark, bright if sickly green, on her palm. It was a starting point, at least. Something she could work up from.

One thing at a time.

"I'm sorry," she said with a small shake of her head, long hair swishing over her shoulders. "I don't know what those are. I don't even know what this is or where it came from." She lifted her hand. "It - it's not too bad, but please, if you can tell me anything..."