Hawke's gaze takes a far-away tint to it again, as she remembers Ser Wesley's death and the ogre that killed Carver. For a few moments, she wants to say yes, that there is a way, an easy way. Instead, she shakes her head, just enough to rustle her curls.

"Death, usually," she says with no hint of amusement. "If we had a Grey Warden, they could make any infected people Grey Wardens. It would stave off the Blight sickness for a while, but..." She shrugs. The Hero of Ferelden had been trying that route at home, trying to find a way to stop the Calling last anyone heard, but who knows if it's even possible. All anyone really knows is that life as a Grey Warden is a death sentence by darkspawn, no matter the form the end takes.

"We don't have any Grey Wardens here, so if anyone got infected at all, the only answers are a slow and painful death or a quick end. There's nothing we can do to save them."