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Tien stared up at the forest canopy, feeling the warmth leak from her injuries.
She could see the golden rays of sunshine, dancing between the rustling leaves. But despite the warmth of the day- she felt cold. It really was a beautiful place to die.
As her vision blurred, she let her senses roam for the final time, wanting to burn into memory the wonders of the world around her. The smell of arenaria blooms nearby mingled with the scent of the blood of the slain leshen and crows, creating a heady perfume. She heard birds returning, the leaves continuing to rustle in the breeze and-
And footsteps.
They weren’t that of an animal- she knew that much. It was a person but they were lightfooted and she smelt blade oils- the very same ones she had learnt to mix from the books and the same one that stained her fingers.
A shadow fell over her and she heard a deep, rough voice mutter a curse, "Shit."
The figure knelt down by her side and for a brief moment she thought she saw a white wolf standing over her, its golden eyes glowing. Perhaps it was an old god, here to take her soul away.
“She’s still alive,” she heard the voice mutter.
There was the sound of rustling and a bottle was uncorked. She smelt the familiar scent of swallow as the mouth of the bottle was pressed to her lips. The potion burnt a path down her throat but even as she choked it down, darkness overtook her.
“Stop- please-“ the little girl begged.
The man ignored her, carefully locking the vials of elixirs in place. She tried to break free but the metal shackles simply cut into her wrists and ankles. Even as she fought, the man inserted the needle into her arm and turned a valve.
“Stop- please stop-“ her pleading broke away into screams as the elixirs filled in veins. There was a sickening crack as her right wrist dislocated but the pain from the injury was nothing compared to the fire that filled her.
Crackling wood in a campfire.
The cold night breeze.
The smell of bitter herbs.
Tien opened her eyes and managed to sit up, her body aching and numb. “Not bad,” a gruff voice said, “At your age, I was still being trained.”
Across the campfire was a man, his hair as silver as the moon and eyes glowing gold. Just like hers.
“You’re a witcher,” she found herself saying, stating the obvious.
“You sound amazed.” And he sounded almost amused. Tien continued to watch him, suddenly feeling a flash of irritation that should not be there. She found her pack at once and pulled out a vial of powder. Tipping out a carefully measured amount, she took her medication, wincing at the bitterness, before looking at the witcher again.
“I’ve never met a witcher before,” she said. At this statement, the man frowned, his brow creasing.
“What do you mean? You’re from the School of Cat, aren’t you?” he wanted to know, “Your medallion, your armour- besides, they’re the only ones who used to take in women into their ranks."
Tien took in this information, remembering it from the books she had read. “No… the man who created me- he was given the mutation formula from a Feline witcher. And the medallion… he said he bought it from someone who left the Dyn Marv Caravan.”
“What?” Tien openly flinched at the quiet anger in his voice. It was a tone she was too familiar with. “You weren’t turned into witcher by any school? Any actual witcher?”
She shook her head, refusing to look at him. If she answered all his questions truthfully, she would be fine.
“Who was this man? Where is he? Was he the one who made you take on this damn contract?”
“I-“ She broke off, grabbing the vial of white powder and shake more out with trembling hands. The man got up and she flinched again, dropping the vial. But he just knelt down next to her, picking up the vial with one hand and taking her hand with the other, giving it a squeeze, “It’s okay- I’m not going to hurt you,” he promised.
He looked at the powder carefully, sniffing it. “Extract of ginger, gotu kola leaves and ashwagandha root,” he observed, “You’re taking these to combat the side effect of the Feline witcher mutations.” It wasn’t a question but she nodded anyway. “No wonder you didn’t react well to the swallow Toxicity probably didn’t help in your already weakened state,” he said. Tien knew he was still looking at her and she refused to look up.
The man handed the vial back to her. “Whoever did this to you… where can I find them?” he asked. Tien hesitated. The witcher misunderstood her reluctance to reveal him, “I know it’s difficult- but I need to make sure other people won’t suffer what you went through,” he told her.
“He’s dead.” There was silence, only filled by the night sounds of the forest. She feared being struck or shouted at. She feared the inevitable and sat there, waiting for it, her entire mind and body braced at the ready-
“I see. What about his research?" the man said after a moment of thought- his voice calm," The mutation formula can’t fall into the wrong hands.”
“It’s in the laboratory- with everything else.”
“Can you show me where it is?” he asked but he was requesting too much of her.
Tien shook her head at once, “I can’t go back there,” she said.
“Could you show me on a map?”
That she could do.
Tien knew he would find out what she had done in that laboratory but part of her wanted to be free of the nightmares. Picking up a cinder, she felt it burn her skin as she gripped it in her fist. It extinguished, leaving only wisps of smoke to tell of it’s brief flame. Using the charcoal, she marked out the laboratory on the map. It was hidden behind the waterfall- the sounds having muffled her screams when she underwent the Trial of Grasses.
The memory was still burnt in her mind, clearer than the mark the cinder left on her palm.
“Thank you,” the man told her, “Are you going to be alright?”
She nodded, looking to the leshen head that was already tied up for her. “I need to go get my coin,” she said, managing to get to her feet, “Will you come with me?” she asked, finally looking at him again.
“No- the coin is yours,” he told her firmly.
“But I wouldn’t be alive now if you hadn’t helped,” Tien argued.
He just shook his head, “I couldn’t leave a fellow witcher to die,” he said, waving her off as he set off for the location on the map.
Fellow witcher… Those words stirred something inside Tien. It was a warm, comforting glow deep inside her chest.
It felt like she finally belonged.
“Who are you?” she asked.
He stopped to look at her, “Geralt,” he said, “Geralt of Rivia.”