Something Wilder (Child of the Winter Moon Book 2)

1: Numbing the Pain

After Yennefer and Triss left Kaer Morhen, Stormrider accompanying them, the Skellige Islanders took their leave, bidding the Witchers farewell.

"I will be sure to spread the tale of the battle here among my people," Hjalmar promised. "All will know of the sacrifices that were made here against the Wild Hunt."

"Hjalmar..." Erimon began.

"It will be our way of honoring Vesemir. He earned it for what he did."

"Then we thank you," Geralt said before the Druid could say anything else. "For everything."

"Give Cerys our thanks," Eskel said.

"Would have liked to say farewell to Juray," Folan said, "but on account of her wounds, didn't want to disturb her rest."

"I'll pass on your farewells."

They nodded before departing.

"She's taking it a lot harder than the rest of us," Geralt said.

"I know. You saw the look on her face. When was the last time you saw that very look on her face?"

"When I broke the news that James died during her Grasses."

Eskel nodded. "Mhmm. And she was there and saw everything."

"Yeah..." Geralt sighed. "And I have no idea what to do. We were saddened by James' death, but Vesemir..."

"We all feel Vesemir's loss as keenly as Juray." Eskel looked toward the castle. "It's hard to know what to say when you're feeling the same pain."

Geralt nodded. It had been pretty easy to help her through James' death, but Vesemir had mentored all of them. And he'd treated each of them the same, pushed them to succeed, gave them what they needed to survive a world that hated and feared them. But unlike them, she'd watched someone they all cared about die, unable to do anything. His death had triggered Ciri unleashing her power and they were all lucky that Avallac'h had recovered enough from his ordeal to help her control it. The elf was currently attempting to train her in how to control the Power herself, while Juray was recovering from the broken ribs and internal bleeding Caranthir had dealt her with the help of one of their potions.

Kiera approached Lambert as he was speaking to Aiden as the blacksmith worked on the needed repairs on the Witcher's swords. She was wearing a dress with a low-cut red top, leaving nothing to the imagination, a pendant leading the eye straight to her breasts, her long blond hair framing her face. Lambert had dark hair with a pronounced widow's peak. He had a short, styled beard and a claw mark scar on the right side of his face from his hairline, one claw going over his eye and down his cheek, stopping just before his beard. Aiden was still a young man, a fit build from years of swinging a hammer on top of the sword and stamina training from his parents, brown hair cut short, with a neatly trimmed beard the same color. Kiera stopped right next to Lambert, who was leaning against a post, placing a hand on his bicep.

"Almost ready?" she asked.

"I'm almost done with his repairs," Aiden answered, not looking up from his work.

"The man's a master blacksmith," Lambert said. "Can't rush him."

"I know, I know." Kiera turned to Lambert. "I'll be in the courtyard waiting." She started to turn away. "Oh! Before you come to the courtyard, I think you should have a talk with Juray. I think she could use a friend."