Chapter Text
“When will you get back” Ciri called over the wind, which swirled around the walls of the courtyards.
Geralt was facing Roach, tying the last few bags and blankets to the horse's well-groomed back. “In a couple of days” He mumbled.
The courtyard was practically empty despite all the residents of the keep inhabiting it, their bodies being lapped by the ferocious gales. Vesemir stood stoically under a crumbling archway across from the keep’s front gate, looking out at the young girl, who he had let out of her lesson to say goodbye to Geralt. The other two Witchers were up on the battlements, hands raw from the cold, rough stones they were stacking to rebuild the destroyed walls of the keep.
“I still don’t get why you can’t take me” Whined the young girl as she watched the White haired Witcher haul himself up onto his beloved horse’s back.
Geralt had only announced to Ciri yesterday that he would be out hunting for the next couple of days and to say her reaction was dramatic was an understatement. Initially, she assumed she would be going with him and got scarily excited. When he told her she’d be staying home, she had gone very quiet and he could tell she was adjusting to this unexpected revelation. It didn’t take long. She drowned him in pleas and begged him to take her with him. She followed him down the corridors claiming ‘I won’t be a burden’ and complaining ‘It will be so boring without you’. It took about two hours to stop her from appealing and get her into bed.
He sighed and adjusted his grip on Roaches reigns, readying himself for his journey, “I’m not going to put you in unnecessary danger” He let his eyes meet hers, immediately regretting it. Her emerald eyes bore into his in desperate pleas.
But Ciri was desperate. She didn’t want to stay at Kaer Morhen without Geralt, not when she would have to do lessons with Vesemir without anyone to get her out of them for training. Maybe flattery would work.
“But I'll be with you and your strong and you can take care-”
“No Ciri” He said sternly but his eyes looked sympathetic.
So, flattery wouldn’t work. What about guilt?
She had practiced this act lodes of times before, every time her grandmother would start reprimanding her for leaving the castle. She held her breath and looked at the floor to begin her performance.
Letting her voice break with her words, she quietly cried, “Pl-please,” She took in a deep, craftily shaky breath, “don’t leave me here”
Eskel and Lambert stopped labouring and looked down at the girl they could hear begging. She continued her pitiful cries, “I don’t- don’t want to be away from...” A couple of tears ran down her cheeks, “you”
She waited and waited for Geralt’s flood of apologies and for him to tell her ‘It’s okay. I’ll take you’ but it didn’t come. Instead, a howl of laughter came from the barricades above them. She lifted her head, looking up at the laugher with a confused stare.
“Good try Princess!” Lambert shouted down at them, low chuckles still erupting from his mouth.
Ciri glared at him before turning to look at Geralt. The corners of his mouth were tugging up into a smile as his eyes flitted between Lambert and the young girl.
She grunted in frustration, “How?”
“Your heart beat is too slow” Geralt explained, just loud enough for her to hear, “And we know you”
“I hate you; you know?” Ciri shouted up at the dark-haired Witcher with a scowl.
“Don’t worry, its reciprocated” He replied, flashing a mean toothy grin her way. Eskel turned and gave his brother a disapproving frown before beginning to descend the barricades.
Geralt could feel roach impatiently stirring beneath him and knew it was time to leave. He looked at Ciri, who now did honestly look sad and disappointed, almost as if she had just realised there was no chance of persuading Geralt. “Take care of yourself” He coaxed Roach forwards, towards the gates, “And Ciri” He turned his head to face her, “Try not to annoy Vesemir too much” And then he was gone, the glint of his smile fading in Ciri’s memory.
“Come on Ciri” Vesemir commanded, walking back inside the fortress.
She made a made a disgusted look and dragged her feet into another slow lesson.
———
The sun had slowly started to set as Geralt continued to ride further and further away from Kaer Morhen and away from his Child. Well, his child surprise. The wild pummelled towards them, the cold whipping him and Roach but the horse ploughed on. Roach knew that they were close, they had travelled this journey many times before. Deep in thought, Geralt let her lead them, his eyes lazily scanning the horizons as he rocked his way closer to their destination.
They were making their way to a forest, east from the mountains, which had a large clearing. This clearing was usually full of elk this time of year so was the perfect place for hunting. It was one of the more beautiful places he had travelled to; it had a waterfall not far from the clearing, which swirled into a large plunge pool, often used to wash both Roach and him after a long day of riding.
A nagging regret clung to the Witcher as he rode. Ciri would have loved the singing of birds and the way the river trickled through the forest unexpectedly. The thoughts made him sad and he couldn’t comprehend why. He was going to be home in a few days and he knew that Ciri didn’t truly resent him for not taking her so why was he feeling so bad?
It was almost complete darkness now, not that this was a problem for the Witcher, who’s gold eyes could see through the trees and relished in the fact that the clearing was only a couple of minutes away. He caringly ran a hand down Roaches neck, the sticky beads of sweat coating his hand.
“We’ll have a wash when we get there” He grunted to Roach, running his fingers through her coarse mane.
Roach snorted a reply and seemed to speed up her trot with determination.
“What do you think we catch this time?” He pondered the question internally, “Remember last time? We came here with Eskel when I last visited. Though, it was winter then and the lake had frozen over. Eskel bet that he would get stag on that trip so I woke up really early in the morning whilst he was storing, you know what he’s like.” he remarked, smiling, as he recounted the memory, “And I took down a stag and had it waiting for him when he came back. He was pissed and didn’t talk to me for a few hours”
They had finally reached the clearing, its beauty shadowed by the darkness of the night. Geralt’s ears rung with the scurries of small woodland creatures and the hushed cries of distant distressed birds as he made his way across the small field toward the sound of rushing water.
When they were about half way across the field, something pricked at the back of the Witcher’s mind. Something sounded wrong. There was a high-pitched screeching sound, somehow slightly familiar to his ears but it was not close enough to be identified. It had hefty breaks where the noise would stop and then abruptly start again. Soon it was clear that it was coming from the stream, piecing the quiet aurora of the forest. Roached ears pricked up attentively, indicating that she could hear it too.
Apon reaching the edge of the field, the Witcher, who was now stealthily silent, swung his leg over the horse and jumped onto the ground, hand gripped on the handle of his sword.
With a pat on her neck, he gave Roach the silent command to stay there as he kept towards through the small wall of trees that blocked the view of the stream.
The sound was much louder and audible heaving gasps echoed between each cold cry. Roaring against the screams, the waterfall crashed in Geralt’s eyeline distracting him from the location of the howls.
Looking down he suddenly recognised the sound, cursing that he couldn’t identify it sooner.
A woman lay on the floor, lifeless. Her auburn hair was scattered against the cold, dew-soaked bank and her thin, torn, linen dress clung to her body, skewed like someone had clung onto it desperately. Her emerald green eyes were wide open, but her jade irises held a sudden sadness. In fact, all her features had a sad tranquilly to it, like she had peaceful accepted death when it approached her. Geralt noted she looked young, surely not past her twentieth year, but she had worn skin like she had been exposed to lots of sun due to outdoor labour.
It wasn’t the dead woman which made the Witcher’s chest tight with fear though, but instead the wailing creature beside her.
A miserable child was beside the woman’s dead body, her small eyes inflamed from the river that had escaped them. Her small figure was curled shivering discontently, on the wet, frosty ground. Her distraught eyes reached for Geralt as the sorrowful whimpers began in place of the hysterics earlier. The pounding of her heart was overbearing, drumming through the Witcher’s skull as he looked over the young girl. Her reddened button nose was twitching and the tears made red scars down her heavily freckled cheeks. She had bright ginger hair which stuck to her soaked face in disappointed curls. Her deep brown eyes looked back up to him with... could that be hope?
Geralt wanted to leave, walk back to Roach and just forget that the girl was even there. He could just set up camp in the clearing and wait until morning when the girl would definitely be dead.
But he just couldn’t when every time he looked into her eyes, he saw Ciri’s, the child he was bound to by destiny. He wasn’t bound to this girl so why did he feel the same pang of despair at the idea of her death. The child looked to be just over a year old, maybe older but small. It was hard to tell. He had no means of looking after a child of that age. Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, he didn’t even know how to take care of an eleven-year-old.
“Ma” The girl gurgled between sobs. Geralt’s breath caught, and his heart sank.
It was decided, he couldn’t leave the child.