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“Fuck,” the man gruffed as he always did in situations such as this one. In truth, you understood why, seeing how you were both surrounded by angry townsfolk looking for a fight with you and the witcher. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this kind of treatment from the townsfolk, but the prejudice that comes with his white hair never cared about whether he deserved it or not. You, however, probably did deserve it. Things weren’t supposed to turn out like this; they were supposed to end with a certain muscular beauty in your bed completely naked. Unfortunately, you were sweaty for more unpleasant reasons. If you had to guess when it all started, the best answer would be two days ago when you saw the man known as Geralt of Rivia pass through the woods to the small town you found yourself in now.
Geralt had been traveling in search of work when you spotted him or rather he spotted you. You had a habit of walking in the woods for nothing other than a need to do something. Your house was on the outside of the town, so there weren’t many people around to talk to you, not that you really minded all that much. It was better if you stayed out of the town for personal reasons. This did come with the risk of monster attacks and the occasion bandit, but you never had much need to worry until Geralt. There was no rustling of leaves, no twigs snapping under the heavy footfall of an unseen visitor, he was just there one moment where he wasn’t the moment before. From his expression, he expected you to be more surprised than you clearly were. If he only knew. “Hello,” you called out in an amused voice. You almost thought he wouldn’t respond as the seconds ticked away until his low, gravelly voice serenaded your ears. “Bit dangerous to be walking around the woods alone, don’t you think?” You were quick to respond, “I would say the same for you if you were not a witcher.” His lips turned up as if he had smirked, but it was hard to tell if he actually had or you imagined it. Either way, you found yourself smiling at him like a smitten schoolgirl. There was no denying how absolutely gorgeous the man was. With amber eyes and long, beautiful, white hair, it was almost easy to miss how snuggly his clothes fit around every part of him. He was a feast for your eyes and you were absolutely starving. “You’re Geralt of Rivia, aren’t you?” You knew the answer; it was obvious from the stories who he was, but that voice did too many things to you to miss an opportunity to hear it again. “So, the stories have made it all the way out here, have they? I guess there’s no need to introduce myself. You, however, haven’t given me your name.” There was something in his eyes when he spoke that last sentence, but it was hard to place since it was only a flicker. “I suppose I could tell you my name,” you remarked, “but what fun would that be?” You were playing a game with him now, though the reality of it was you didn’t truly want anyone knowing who you were. It was safer that way. His face did that thing where it was hard to tell if he was smirking. He looked about to speak when a piercing howl tore through the trees. One by one howls erupted around you and Geralt; they were surrounding the two of you quickly. Geralt slid one of his swords, probably the steel one, from its sheath and readied himself for a fight. “Come here.” He commanded in a dangerous voice. You knew he meant business, but being told what to do was not something you tolerated. When you didn’t move, he reached out and grabbed your wrist with his strong fingers, pulling you to stand behind him. You wanted to be angry at him and you were to some degree, but looking at his fine, leather-clad ass was easing your anger quickly. The howls grew closer and Geralt grew more focused. The beasts making the noise appeared all at once into sight. Geralt muttered, “Armored hounds. Why the hell are they here?” There, standing all around you, were dogs mutated beyond recognition. They were hairless beasts covered in steel armor with long, sharp teeth and sickly yellow eyes. Drool dripped from their jaws as if they were looking at their next meal. This would be a bloodbath and you weren’t totally sure whose blood it would be soaking into the soil. It was time to put a stop to this. You slipped past Geralt to stand between him and the majority of the hounds. “What are you doing?!” Geralt hissed. “Stop.” The command was clear and exact; it did the trick every time. To Geralt’s surprise, the hounds didn’t attack, in fact, they calmly walked to the woman like obedient soldiers to the commander. “So, you’re a beast master? I never would’ve taken you for a member of the Order.” His voice held a deep suspicion where it held a light banter moments ago. You sighed deeply, “No, I’m not a beast master or a member of the Order. I found a dying man years ago with these hounds all around him. He was from the Order. There was no way to save him.” You took a brief pause to compose yourself; the memories of that day were never pleasant. “I tried to make him comfortable. Despite who he was and what he did, I still believe he deserved to die in peace. When he drew his final breath, he commanded the hounds to follow my word from that day on and they have loyally. He cursed me with their care.” Silence hung in the air after your confession, one you had never admitted to any soul before now. A weight you were unaware you possessed lifted from your chest, making every breath after lighter. You weren’t sure what to expect from the man who still held his sword at the ready. Perhaps, you were expecting to be struck down along with your mutated dogs, certainly not what really happened. The sound of Geralt’s sword being sheathed gaved your attention. “Makes sense why you wouldn’t be worried about walking around monster-infested woods all alone. You weren’t alone.” His eyes held yours in a steady gaze. “You look surprised.” He remarked with what looked like a real smile. “Well,” you started, “you’re a witcher and I’m certain the townsfolk would pay very well if you were to kill us and bring them proof. What a threat they would think we were to be lurking outside the town.” You could tell from the heavy feeling in your chest that what you said was true. No average person would ever feel safe if they knew what lived so close to their home. “If you were truly a threat to anyone, you wouldn’t be living out here away from other people. I’m guessing you care about their safety. And what they would think.” Geralt’s words struck deep like a sword thrust into your heart. It must have been obvious because you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. Now, you were sure Geralt was smiling and it ensnared your heart so greatly you could practically feel every thread encircling your heart. This was how it started, whatever it was between you and him, with a simple, chance interaction in the woods. You couldn’t have guessed it would lead to your biggest secret being exposed.
Geralt decided, upon your suggestion, that he would stay at your home rather than an inn. It would garner less attention and it was free which he quite liked. You quite liked having such a splendid view and having company wasn’t too bad, either. The two of you spent most of the night inside your house. It came as a surprise how talkative Gerald could be once he started to relax around you. The once stoic and mysterious man told you all about his various tales about the different jobs he took and monsters he fought and about his preferred sole travel companion, Roach. Apparently, Roach was one special and very lucky horse. All these stories made you think about how hard it must be to be alone on the road so much with very little appreciation for the hard work being done; it wasn’t too different from the life you lived. Once the night got so late, Geralt got up to head to the bed you had made up for him for the night, the first night the room held any use. “Are you staying up?” He questioned. You smiled at him, “I’m not tired.” Perhaps the smile held a secret sorrow because Geralt stared at you for what seemed like an eternity. “Hmm.” He turned toward his room and left you sitting there. You weren’t sure what that meant or what the man you found so impossible to read could be thinking, but you had the room to yourself once more. It was lonely.
When morning finally arrived, Geralt found you in the same spot he left you last night. “Did you sit there all night?” You never knew one man’s voice could hold so much suspicion. “No, I just sat down not too long ago.” You turned to him and asked, “Would you like something to eat?” Geralt’s deep, amber eyes settled on your face and didn’t waver. It felt like he was studying you, trying to figure out your very soul. He strode to the door and opened it, calling back to you about getting something in the town before leaving. You took your time that morning, soaking in the feelings you were experiencing since the witcher came into your life. It was well past noon when something felt off in the air. You had walked outside to check on the unruly hounds when the scent of danger drifted through the air, overpowering your senses like the most fragrant flower. This wouldn’t have bothered you much except it was coming from the direction of town, the direction Geralt had gone. Your instincts told you to run to the mighty witcher’s aid and you did just that. You surged forward, breaking into a sprint. The air whipped at your face as the world around you blurred. It didn’t take long for you to come face to face with the situation at hand. Geralt stood with his silver sword in hand, staring down an alp. It was uncommon for a creature in the vampiric race to be in this area; it must have travelled in search of a more plentiful food supply. Geralt and the alp noticed you the second you arrived. “Run!” Shouted Geralt. The alp started for you, but Geralt stopped it with a swing of his sword. He kept yelling for you to flee and you knew you should. Geralt was a witcher and more than capable of dealing with the pale, redheaded blood-sucker. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were trapped by the unbending desire to keep Geralt safe. It was your unwillingness to leave that created enough of a distraction for the alp to strike Geralt. Blood dripped from his arm where the alp’s long nail sliced his flesh. There was a split second where everything seemed to slow to a crawl. Geralt was stumbling back and the alp was gaining the advantage with every step. At that moment, a flash of fur flew past Geralt towards the alp. It was impossible for him to tell what it had been. The creature was entangled with the alp in battle; it was glimpses of fur and white skin tangled together in battle. Only when the alp’s throat was ripped open, blood gushing from the wound, and it laid dead on the ground did Geralt finally see what had engaged the alp. A werewolf. A big, furry, full-grown werewolf. It turned to Geralt and he readied himself. Nothing happened. Neither of them moved an inch. Then, the werewolf transformed back into a human. Geralt laughed and sheathed his sword. “I had my suspicions there was something different about you. I wouldn’t have guessed you were a werewolf. At least not one born into it.” “I would rather discuss this when I have more clothes on.” You were clutching the straps of clothing that survived the transformation. Geralt laughed once more before gesturing in the direction of your home. The walk back was uncomfortable. You were starting to wish the alp had killed you rather than continue walking practically naked with Geralt to your house. After a few minutes, you arrived at your house and dressed yourself in fresh clothes. You readied yourself for what you expected to be some tough questions; you weren’t prepared for what actually happened. “Thanks for our help.” Geralt’s gratitude was genuine and entirely confusing. Why wasn’t he drilling you with questions? And why hadn’t he tried to kill you? You were a werewolf with control of several deadly armored hounds. Weren’t you a witcher’s bloody dream? “You’re not a threat to humans. In case you were wondering why I haven't killed you.” Geralt stated matter of factly. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow. Not much here in the means of earning coin. If you’d like to come into the town with me to see if I can collect on that alp you killed,” he said with a smirk, “I wouldn't mind the company.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “If you’ll chop the wood out back for me. I was going to do it today, but a certain witcher needed rescuing.” It was meant as a playful joke, but Geralt did, in fact, chop the wood for you. It seemed he didn’t mind your company, either.
The next morning after a quick stretching of your legs, you and Geralt set out for the town. You were unapologetically excited to finally see the town you had lived so close to for so long. The armored hounds tried desperately to follow you. It should have been a sign. They were creatures who preferred to hold a wide perimeter to easily spot approaching enemies and would never stay so close to you unless they truly felt it was necessary. Your excitement blinded you to that fact and every sign you’d normally spot a mile away. A most regrettable mistake.
In Geralt’s eyes, the town was as normal as any town on the outskirts of the woods he’d seen, but in your eyes, it was stunningly beautiful. After living in the woods for so long, surrounded by nothing but trees and beasts, the simple town held a certain beauty you didn’t realize you missed. It had you quite awestruck. A sight Geralt found both humorous and endearing in a way. You were captivated by the slightly rundown buildings and the way the townspeople interacted with each other and Geralt was bewitched with your childlike wonder. Neither of you saw the way you were being looked at nor heard the whispers of those plotting bloodshed. Once you and Geralt had reached the center of the town, it became painfully obvious what was happening. You had been surrounded by a mob. They held weapons in their hands and looks of disgust and hatred on their faces. It was the beginning of your worst nightmare.
“That’s her!” Cried out a voice from the crowd. “I saw her true form in the woods earlier this morning! She’s a werewolf! A monster!” Another cried out, “Kill her witcher! Kill the monster! Save us!” Your composure was failing you when Geralt spoke, “Why should I kill her? She is no threat to this town or any town.” Small flashes of light soared through the air. When you looked at the ground where the objects landed, you saw coins. The townspeople were tossing coins at Geralt. “There! Now you’ve been paid to slay the beast, witcher!” The crowd was becoming restless, but Geralt never wavered. He spoke with a chilling calmness, “There isn’t enough coin to convince me to kill an innocent woman.” You knew he’d made up his mind about the situation from the start, but at what cost to him? The once unruly mob was now enraged. Different voices shout out. “Kill her!” “When did the Butcher of Blaviken start caring about innocence?!” “Let’s just kill them both!” The shouting grew louder and angrier until all you could hear was “Kill them!” You could see it now. The townspeople together were like a snake ready to strike and the moment Geralt’s steel sword deflected the first stone, the snake lunged forward with fangs bared. The array of weapons coming at you was vast; it was anything from kitchen knives to axes to pitchforks. The weapons of a true mob.
Geralt was fighting, not only for his life, but yours. You wanted to help him like you had with the alp, to fight bravely and valiantly by his side, but these were people, not monsters. The outcome was obvious to you as it should be to Geralt. Without your help, Geralt wouldn’t be able to save you and himself. He would die for you. You couldn’t fathom why someone you met such a short time ago would defend you so furiously. It was possible the reason was as simple as Geralt just didn’t believe you deserved to die. Well, you knew in your heart he most definitely didn’t deserve to die protecting you.
Geralt cast the Aard sign, sending the brunt of the attackers flying back. This action created enough of a moment for you to get scolded like a pup and to break both your hearts. “They're going to kill you!” Geralt shouted at you, clearly upset at your decision not to fight back against the mob. You spoke in what you hoped was a soothing yet determined voice, “I won't play the part of the monster just because it was the part they assigned me. I’d rather play the part of your savior.” You placed your hands on his cheeks and drew him into a kiss. It was a sweet and sorrowful kiss. A bitter goodbye. When you pulled away, Geralt saw your amber eyes and tried to pull you back to him.
“Don't. Please. I don’t deserve to be the one saved.” He pleaded.
“Did you know a true werewolf has a heightened sense of emotion? It's how they find their mates and they would do anything for their mate, Geralt.” You looked into his eyes to see if he understood what you meant before continuing, “When the hounds come, you have to kill them. They can't be allowed to roam free without a master. You have to do this, Geralt. Promise me”.
“No, I won't let you do this.” His gravelly voice held a tinge of sorrow to it. It tugged strongly at your heartstrings, but you had already made your impossible choice.
“Geralt, please!” There was a moment when you thought he wouldn’t agree, where he would refuse your last request. Until...
“Fine. I promise.”
Geralt attempted to memorize your smile, your last smile. He saw a tear slide down your cheek, but when he reached out to wipe it away, you were already out of his reach, tearing into the townspeople with the strength of a true monster. Teeth and claws ripped through them like knives through butter. At the first drawing of your blood, the hounds all howled at once; a signal of their outrage and impending arrival. You had been right and Geralt knew what he had to do.
It felt as if time had slowed to a near halt causing the world to exist in slow motion. Every swing of a blade meeting flesh was like a lover’s kiss, deadly and precise. You could feel the sting of every cut, the forming of every bruise, and the loss of every single drop of blood spilt from your body; your animalistic rage did nothing to assuage the pain. It took everything you had just to keep going, but you gave it all to give Geralt a chance to escape, to keep living. You were still weakening with every passing minute. Soon you wouldn’t have enough strength to fight back. The townsfolk had the advantage in numbers and while you had the advantage in speed and strength, you refused to transform completely. Your goal wasn’t to kill them, only stall them.
Geralt brandished his silver sword at the hounds pounding towards him and the town. His first strike sliced cleanly through one hound’s belly, leaving guts splayed on the ground. This was the only easy kill since the rest of the armoured hounds ran past him in a desperate attempt to save their master. “Fuck.” Geralt exclaimed as he took off chasing the pack of bloodthirsty beasts. Using his enhanced speed, he managed to catch up to the back of the pack and kill off a few stragglers. The rest of the hounds, however, were too fast and had too much of a headstart for Geralt to reach them before they reached the crowd. The witcher could do nothing to stop them from barrelling into your attackers. There were teeth and claws everywhere; the hounds rammed people, knocking them over and ripping out their throats before moving onto the next person. The mob became divided as the number of monsters increased around them. Fresh, human blood soaked the dirt beneath their feet; it was an absolute bloodbath.
They didn’t listen. Nobody listened. Your hounds wouldn't stop ripping humans apart and the mob of humans just wouldn’t stop. They put themselves in danger by attacking you and somehow it was your fault they were dying. Everything was out of hand and you couldn’t hold yourself together much longer. Geralt was the one to see it happen, see you become lost to your curse. It was a horrible, haunting sound that stopped every creature in its tracks; it was something between a howl and a human scream. You had lost your fight with the beast inside you and it was unforgiving. You and the hounds start your attack anew, dwindling the mob to nothing in the blink of an eye. Your senses told you there were still people in the town, the ones who didn’t join the mob. The werewolf part of you sought to end them as well. They had stood aside while you were sliced and beaten and this was an offense any wounded beast couldn’t let stand. The hounds were the first to go on the hunt and the first to meet Geralt’s blade. He could let the slaughter of the mob slide but not the slaughter of those who didn’t raise a weapon towards you or him. Maybe it was a sense of justice or maybe he simply knew how you’d feel if you gained control of your beast only to find out you slaughtered a whole town including the innocents. Geralt struggled with the armored hounds; they weren’t going down easy or quickly. It took several minutes and a hasty application of beast oil to his sword before Geralt managed to kill the last of your mutated dog army. You had used that time to struggle for control of your mind. It was like trying to breathe while you were drowning, but you kicked and clawed your way back to concussion. “Stop me.” Your voice pleaded to the only person who could end this nightmare. The strong, kind voice Geralt knew to be yours was now weak and filled to the brim with a kind of despair few survived; your voice was forgein to his ears. “Please, Geralt. End this madness. For me.” He shook his head slowly at first then faster as if he could shake the very thought from his head. It didn’t matter what Geralt wanted, though, or the decision he thought was right. Your concussion was slipping fast and soon there would be no decision at all. Geralt knew what he had to do, even if he hated himself for it afterwards.
You lunged at Geralt, your short victory for control over. It took mere seconds for his blade to pierce you, sliding through your body with ease. It wasn’t the type of wound that killed you instantly, but the kind you might inflict on someone when selfishly prolonging their last moment for the chance to spend even a little more time with them. “You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve to die.” Geralt spoke with teary eyes. You didn’t think witchers could cry. Maybe you had been wrong about more than you could imagine. “I was the monster they made me out to be in the end, Geralt. And you, my brave witcher, protect people from monsters. It simply had to be done.” You could feel yourself fading and perhaps, Geralt could feel it, too, because his beautiful, catlike eyes were filled with sorrow. It was nearly a whisper when Geralt spoke, again. “You never did tell me your name.” You tried to muster up your most charming smile, but you had a feeling it just looked sad and maybe a little pathetic. “I’m just another girl who lived in the woods, my sweet Geralt. Except, I’m the one you’ll forget.” The tears began streaming down your face like a waterfall, dripping off your cheeks. “I’ll never forget you. I can promise you that. You are so much more than a girl in the woods, you hear me?” But you hadn’t. Geralt looked at your face only to find you gone.
It was nightfall before the witcher, who had so suddenly appeared, left behind the small town and its woods just as suddenly. It was uncertain whether this would become a bad memory or a recurring nightmare for Geralt of Rivia. The answer would be one only Roach would ever know, once he retrieved the mare. The town looked as if a fierce monster had torn through it. The ground was saturated with blood and corpses lay everywhere the eye could see. What you couldn’t see, or maybe no one would ever see, was in the woods by a house that now stood empty there stood a single, large stone with words etched in it as if carved by a sword and a single, lonely flower. It read:
The Girl in the Woods
Not a monster but a savior
Killed by the ignorance of man