For returning readers: Thank you so much for sticking with the story! I hope the revisions are worth the wait, and your time for rereading this story. Really, a thousand thanks and kisses towards you all.

For new readers: You guys are lucky! You didn't have to deal with the old version, haha. But if you are curious, the old version of WTA is still available in AO3. Link is in my profile. It was quite literally the first thing I have ever written in my life that wasn't related to school-work, so I felt compelled to keep it.

Pronunciation of her name: Soh-fell-la

sou n. energy, power, stamina, virility, strength
fen n. wolf
Fenla (female) – as a wolf. From the words: fen(wolf) + la (like, as)
Soufenla = Soufehla

Her profile has been reworked as well. If you guys are curious, find out more about her on tumblr (link also on profile).

The entire first chapter is of non-consensual sex. If you wish to skip over the rape, go right ahead. I've provided a summary for you at the end notes so you won't get hindered reading the rest of the story.
Also, this chapter is almost identical to previous version. Major revisions will start on chapter 2

Soufehla softly pads through the deep forest, moonlight barely filtering through the thick canopy. Her nightly strolls are nothing unusual – her clan knows how she enjoys the company of animals as much as she does her clan mates. She always loves to observe the greenery around her, listening to the beautiful melodies of the birds as she hunts during the day, and marvels at how it melts into the comforting howls of the wolves under the moonlight. It is probably why she is a shapeshifter – not that her lethallins knows that. They don't need to know every detail about her – nobody else knows animals like her.

And yet tonight's stroll feels different somehow. Nothing is changed, and yet her gut is clenched tightly, every soft trill of insects startling her. The further Soufehla walks from her clan, the stronger the uneasiness grows, until her teeth are set on edge. She picks up her pace, eager to join her pack of wolves. Once she shifts into a wolf and start the hunt with her pack, the adrenaline would set her free of her troubled mind.

She climbs one of the small hills, lightly jogging now, and runs straight into an unyielding object. She stumbles, her hands shooting out to steady her fall, but there are strong hands grasping her arms, righting her before she can hit the ground. Soufehla looks up, words of apology hanging at her smiling lips, but freezes. She is staring directly into the eyes of a shemlen in heavy armor. Her eyes widen as she takes a step back, and soon four other shemlens fill her vision. This wasn't good.

"Thank you, messere. I apologize for running into you. I have been thoroughly distracted tonight." She mumbles quietly, her eyes darting back and forth between the five tall shemlens. Hopefully they would not care for a young Dalish elf. Hopefully they would let her go on her way. Hopefully, she will melt away into the dark shadows beneath the trees.

And yet the vicelike grip on her arm does not lessen. If anything, the shemlen holding her arm tightens his grasp, making her wince.

"A knife-ear with long black hair and green vallaslin. This must be her." The shem holding her speaks. His voice is low, and he sounds almost bored. Soufehla's heart drops at his words. They have her description. Why do these shems have her description? Her mind buzzes with confusion, thousand thoughts rushing through her brain. These shems must have been waiting for her. It's a trap, she finally realizes, her eyes focusing on the symbol painted on the shields lying by the side. A symbol of flaming sword bores into her, making her gasp. Templars. She is caught by Templars.

"Well isn't she a pretty little rabbit." One of the other Templars speaks, and trembling, she lowers her gaze to the ground. She needs to get away from these shems. She must get away now. But her face is wrenched up painfully by a huge hand on her chin, and finds herself staring into the eyes of one Templar. His eyes are icy, impossibly blue, ringed with blackness that speaks to her of darkest, foulest desires.

"Please serah. Please let me go." Her voice seeps out, quietly begging. It comes from someplace else, as if someone else has spoken, not her. Soufehla knows that even with her magic, she can't win against five Templars. She knows of the stories her lethallins tell around the small camp fires at night. Her Keeper has given her plenty of warnings as well. Mage-killers, Deshanna has told her. Cruel, thoughtless weapons of the Chantry against mages. Mages like her.

The Templars only chuckle at her plea. "What say we have some fun with her?" The blue-eyed one drawls, glancing at the other shemlens. "A little blood Mage played rough and we had no choice but to put her down. Isn't that right?" His voice is angry. His voice is so very angry. She briefly wonders if he knows of the thick rage that lies in his voice, coiled tight, ready to snap. But Soufehla doesn't have any time to dwell on that thought, because there is a chorus of murmured assent from the other four Templars gathered about.

Well, she isn't going to give in without a fight. She is a proud Dalish elf, and a very powerful First. Soufehla would fight to her very last dying breath. She pulls at the thick threads that the Veil is woven of towards her, wrapping herself. She demands for the trees around her to answer to her will. To her sharp relief, she feels the roots of the trees lengthening, reaching towards her. She commands them to entangle the Templars surrounding her so she can escape.

The sudden shock of being wrenched away from the Veil is nothing like she's experienced before. Feeling blind and sick, she falls heavily to the ground after being Silenced. A hand in a gauntlet twists into her long hair, and drags her up to her knees with a sharp, painful jerk. Soufehla screams, kicking out blindly.

"A blood Mage indeed. And she was so compliant earlier too. Can never trust them. Knife-eared abomination." She vaguely hears one of the shems sneering at her, but can't tell which one it is. Then there are too many hands on her. Some are holding her down against the soft grass, others are tearing at her clothes. She struggles, trying to wiggle free when a swift blow to her chin stuns her. Dazed, her limbs go limp for a moment, ceasing the fight for those few precious seconds allowing a Templar to bind her hands with a belt he has freed from his own trousers.

Soufehla cries out, but she is helpless. Her magic remains beyond her desperate reaches, leaving her painfully vulnerable to these lecherous Templars. Through the bloody haze settling around her mind, she can hear the angry voices murmuring insults and praises alike. She tries to pull at her magic again and again in vain, and sees the angry one with those icy blue eyes smirk at her.

Her body is caught unaware when a Templar forces himself into her. There are no words for the pain she feels, for the violation they force her through. She screams again, receiving another swift blow and a low "pretty thing, bite and you will regret it." Soon her screams are cut short as Soufehla gags on the Templar in her mouth, his coarse hair rubbing her chin raw. She feels the slick blood running down her thighs, easing the tearing pain somewhat, but not the gaping wound it's left on her soul. She hears one of them commenting on her loss of maidenhead. Others laugh. She feels the burning tears running down her face as she struggles against their bruising grips, hoping that they would rather kill her. She isn't sure how long she can bear this for.

"*~*"

Bleeding thorns! By the lost Dales, she hates their bloody Templar stamina. Soufehla isn't quite sure how long this nightmare has been going on for. Perhaps two hours? More? Her mind has long since fled the horrendous world and is floating within her, ignoring all she can. In. Out. In again. The rhythm is always constant, always there. Then as if noticing the small sanctuary she's mentally fled to, the one with the blue eyes begins to talk to her.

"Little knife-ear. Know how we found you? Know how we knew about you?"

In. Out. In. Out again. She opens her eyes to narrow slits and glares daggers at him. She would spit if she could, but he is in her mouth. The constant, maddening rhythm of in, out, and in again.

"Your clan told us about you, little rabbit." He taunts her. "Soufehla, marked by the Dread Wolf, they said. Take her away from our clan, they plead."

Soufehla doesn't quite know what she wants to do. Should she scream at him? But his cock fills her throat, blocking any and all noise she could make. And it feels too ineffective of a way to show the pain he's carving into her soul, the dread that claws into her heart. She is already crying, the angry painful tears wetting her cheeks, so that doesn't work either. A lethallen has betrayed her. She knows that the blue-eyed Templar speaks the truth. How else would five random shemlens ambush her? In a forest no less? It hurts even more than her broken body does. She feels herself shaking, trembling, caught in a deadly grip of despair, and another Templar chuckles between her legs. He thinks she's enjoying it.

"Your clan told us of your nightly strolls. Grab her, they urged. While she is alone." Soufehla feels the tiny whimpers trying to sneak past her lips. She clamps down hard.

"A little orphan who threatens the clan. She is not welcome, they told us. Shemlen Circles can have her." The blue-eyed one chuckles, pleased, as he finishes in her mouth and withdraws.

Soufehla howls. She howls a long blood curdling cry. Her throat burns as if flames are licking her there. She does not care. The five Templars are shocked into stillness, the maddening rhythm of ins and outs finally pausing. But she does not stop.

"Shut up." A stinging blow to her face snaps her head to the side. She howls even louder. Another blow lands, this time to the back of her head. She doesn't stop. They kick her in the stomach. Then she hears it. The answering yowl some distance away. Her heart flutters with small hope. They are close by. She doesn't even notice the next kick they deliver to her ribs.

"Savage knife-ear." One of them mutters, still buried deep inside her. But he doesn't seem too happy anymore, and she is fine with that. Then, her elven ears finally catches the soft thuds against the grassy field. Her heart beats louder, stronger as the sound gets louder. They are coming for me.

Huge wolves burst out from bushes all around them. Cursing at the sudden attack they were so unprepared for, the Templars lurch away from her, desperately grasping at their swords and shields.

One of them trips over his own trousers hanging around his ankles and Soufehla would have laughed if she could. Instead, she watches as her two huge wolves tear into him. Razor-sharp claws shred his skin to ribbons. His throat is crushed under their strong jaws, and he is left to gurgle and choke on the ground, bleeding out. She feels a deep satisfaction welling up inside her chest as she watches his blood pool around him.

She sees another one holding his shield up against a wolf on top of him. The wolf's claws dig in deep, leaving deep gashes in the flaming sword symbol over the shield. While the shem is distracted, a second wolf gets behind him rips his legs out with a bite. Clawed to death. Soufehla pulls at her magic once again, and this time it comes to her easily, almost like breathing. Sobbing with relief at the familiar pulse, she burns the hateful belt binding her wrists together. The third Templar falls under three snarling wolves. She stands up on her shaky legs, her inner thighs coated with her own blood.

The fourth Templar screams at his own blood as his stomach is torn apart. He stares horrified, watching his innards spill out of his body cavity. His pained screams are like music to her ears, and Soufehla smiles happily. She stalks over to the last Templar on the ground. He has lost both his shield and sword, with the pack leader circling him. A prey. He is a prey.

The Templar looks up as she approaches and she realizes it's the one with the icy blue eyes, the one with the angry voice. Their gazes lock onto each other, and his eyes are full of fears which she is fiercely glad to see. He pleads for his life wordlessly, and Soufehla grins. She smiles and gleefully denies his plea.

She doesn't hear how her own voice is so full of the wrath she's heard in his voice earlier. She sets his hair on fire, making the Templar writhe and scream, and then sets his cock on fire too. The pubic hair that's rubbed her chin raw now serves as kindling. His agonized scream sinks into her skin, and she laughs, pleased, her wolves circling the burning piece of meat until he is no more.

Soufehla was not her birth name, as you can imagine. No loving Dalish parents would ever name their child a strong wolf-like girl.

Soufehla's mother (Adahlena) named her Lathadlan at birth, meaning "love of the forest". But after the incident in the woods described in the above chapter, Soufehla discarded that name, considering that innocent girl to have died in those woods.

I've called her Soufehla in the chapter to keep the name consistent throughout the story (since I already changed her name once), but I just wanted to point out the fact that she was still "Lathadlan Adahlena Lavellan" during the Blood Betrayal chapter.

Summary: Soufehla gets caught by five Templars in a forest alone. There is one Templar who stands out to her the most, a man with icy blue eyes who suggests to others that they should have 'some fun'. She is bound by her wrists with a leather belt and endures their touches until her wolf pack finds her and she kills the five Templars. But not before the blue-eyed Templar informs her that her clan mates were the ones who betrayed her to the Templars.