Something Wild (Child of the Winter Moon Book 1)

5: White Orchard

Geralt bolted upright, the Wild Hunt once again invading his dreams. The very reason he had previously lost his memory. It had been a nice dream at first, a dream of little Ciri, the girl he had raised and saw as a daughter, training at Kaer Morhen with him and the handful of the others of the Wolf School who were still alive. He and Vesemir had been tracking Yennefer, the younger Witcher having received a letter to meet her in Willoughby, but when they arrived the town was in ruins, prompting the two to follow her trail. Vesemir, who was already awake, watched as Geralt stood and walked over the fire, sitting on a stump and throwing a stick into the fire before leaning his arms against his legs.

"You alright?" he asked.

Geralt gave a grunt. "Had a nightmare."

"About?" Vesemir was the oldest surviving Witcher on the Continent. He'd mentored every single living Witcher of the Wolf School, raising Geralt himself. So it was no surprise to the White Wolf that Vesemir acted fatherly towards him.

"Take forever to explain."

Vesemir gave a sigh before looking towards the east. "Dawn's some way off. We've got time."

Geralt didn't move as he watched the flames dance. "Started in the guest room at Kaer Morhen, I was relaxing in the tub and next to me..." he trailed off.

"Triss?" Vesemir prompted, naming off the red-haired sorceress Geralt had shared his heart and bed with for several years.

"Yennefer. Funny, isn't it? She's never been there. Seemed so real in my dream, though."

"Was she nagging you about something?"

"Mhm."

"True to life indeed. We'll find her."

Geralt had shared much more with Yennefer than he had with Triss, having known the raven-haired sorceress for decades. Vesemir knew the reason that Geralt had lost his memory was saving her from the Wild Hunt. She was rescued but he disappeared, turning up several years later in the forests around Kaer Morhen and found by his fellow Witchers with no idea who he was. He'd recently regained those memories, much to the relief of his friends.

"I know we will. That's not what worries me. You've seen her tracks. She's at full gallop all the time, breakneck speed through wildlands, devastated battlefields..." Geralt looked over at his mentor. "She's in a hurry to get somewhere, or fleeing something." He looked back at the fire. "Either way, it means trouble of some sort."

"Be surprised if she wasn't in trouble. She's always poked her nose into beehives. Courtly intrigues here, mage's conspiracies there. What do you expect?"

"Don't know. Guess I thought, once we were finally reunited, things would be calm. At least for a while."

Vesemir looked at Geralt like he'd completely lost his mind. "Calm? With Yennefer?" He scoffed. "Good luck."

Geralt brought the conversation back to his dream. "In the dream, I went and found Ciri, then we trained."

"Those were the days," Vesemir sighed. "Little she-devil. Trained kids who were faster, stronger, but none had her character. Although I'll dare say, Juray's bad influence helped with that." Vesemir looked back at Geralt when he didn't respond. The mention of the younger Witcher usually elected some sort of response out of Geralt, as the two had been close. "Didn't end well, did it? Your dream?"

Geralt shook his head. "No. The Wild Hunt appeared, attacked Ciri. I couldn't move. Stood there like a stump."

Vesemir understood then why Geralt had acted the way he had upon waking. "It was just a dream," he assured him.