If I went back to my clan--not the Dalish, not elves--I would die. The last of me would be leeched out for them. I...never knew what it was to live, till I came here. Every bit of me that grew, from the time I could walk, was given away. Every bit. I can't keep doing that. There's a better way for me to serve than for me to keep dealing out my own flesh to keep them warm. That's the only way I know how to live with them, and they with me.