Marian had counted the number of pulled threads in the threadbare blanket she'd been given every day. It helped distract her and staying huddled in the scratchy woolen fabric kept her out of Leandra's sight. She didn't think she'd ever be able to call her 'Mother' again. Even after the safe arrival in Gwaren, and leaving Marian to handle the sale of what few valuable items they had to buy passage to Kirkwall, Leandra took every chance to rail at Marian for Bethany's death.

Carver was always busy glaring off the prow, or gaming with the sailors to avoid their mother. Aveline, bless her, had done what she could to divert Leandra's anger. Marian had 82 pulled, fraying threads of roughspun undyed ram wool to hide behind until the traditional evening browbeating. Maker, how she missed her father.

If Malcolm had been alive, she knew Bethany would have survived, and Leandra would leave her alone. She had been their mother's target ever since their father died. There wasn't enough firewood because Marian didn't chop it before going and tending to the druffalo all by herself. They didn't get enough for selling a calf at market because Marian wasn't as good at bargaining as her father had been. Carver ran off and joined the King's Army because Marian wasn't watching him closely enough. Bethany had to start embroidering items to sell along with Leandra because Marian couldn't handle all the farm work herself. Marian didn't have a husband because she was too mannish and always busy herding the druffalo with Valor.

Marian's shoulders tensed when she heard Leandra's voice raise over murmuring and weeping of the other refugees in the ship's hold, "What do you mean I can't have another cup of water? Did our fare not cover the food and water for the trip as well?"

"It paid for your ration, and you've had yer ration until evening meal, woman. We only have so much water in so many barrels."

"But I'm still thirsty!" The shrill tone that meant her mother was going to throw one of her tantrums was brewing. Marian flung off the blanket, and hurried in the direction of the rising argument.

"You can't just deny me water, we paid our share like everyone else!"

"I told you, you paid for yer ration, and you've gotten yers until evening meal. Now stand aside for the others to get their ration!"

"How dare you, you-"

"Mother, what's going on?" Marian wedged herself through the people grouped around the water barrel.

Leandra turned furious eyes from the tired looking sailor to her daughter. "He won't let me have another cup of water even though I'm still thirsty! He claims I've drunk all of my ration!"

"How many cups did you have?" Marian put her hand to her forehead, praying to the Maker, Andraste, even the Old Gods of Tevinter that they could just get it through her mother's bloody head that drinkable water was limited on a ship. Others were clustered around trying to get their water, and Leandra's tantrum was preventing them from doing so.

"That's not the point, Marian!" Leandra rounded on her. "Why are you taking his side?"

"I'm not taking sides, Mother. I'm just trying to find out how many cups of water you've had to drink so far."

"I've had five." The words were bitten out, and an angry flush mottled Leandra's cheeks. Marian sighed.

"Mother, you only get seven cups a day, and they can only dole out so many per barrel. Ser," she turned to the sailor, "I've only had three of my cups for today, may my mother have one of my two that remain before dinner?"

The sailor's shoulders relaxed, and his grip on the water ladle eased. "I can do that, serah."

"I thank you. See, Mother? All taken care of." Leandra snatched the tin cup from the sailor without even a word of thanks, and drained it quickly. She shoved it into Marian's hands.

"We are going to have a talk, daughter." Watching her mother stomp off, Marian groaned internally.

Holding the cup out to the sailor, he filled it and gave her a rueful grin, "Sorry it ain't something stronger. Mams are a bear to deal with, aye?"

"Honestly, right now I'd rather an angry bear," she muttered under her breath into the cup. He chortled as she drained the water and handed it back to him.

She picked her way back through the people sitting and lying everywhere in the hold, grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her shoulders. Another lecture about how it was all Marian's fault, of course. She ran her fingers over the rough threads and started counting the pulled threads again, making the appropriate noises at the right times, lest Leandra figure out she wasn't paying attention.

One… two… three… four… Maker, I hope she eases up when we get to Kirkwall and we have the estate to keep her busy.