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    Summary

    Ciri was slow, faltering. Geralt let her take her time. Perhaps he enjoyed watching her struggle against herself a bit too much. Enjoyed how hard she tried to be good, good for him. How much she wanted this. She owed him this much and they both knew it. Gods, she was a find. A gift, his gift. Perhaps destiny had done well by him after all.


    Upon arriving at the Witcher's keep, Ciri had hoped for some rest and recovery. She'll have to earn their welcome though and Geralt is going to enjoy giving her a first taste of her place among them. A witcher in winter hungers for warmth so her body will have to learn to provide. What she doesn't freely give, he will take anyway.

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