the angels hidden blade

SEVENTEEN

The brook bubbled as Nefeli sat, her back pressed against the flank of the dark black horse, Fenrir. 

The rhythmic sound of the water provided a soothing backdrop to the moment. 

Fenrir's hot breath brushed against her neck as he curiously sniffed her with his large nose.

His soft pelt pushed into her skin, a comforting weight that enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth. 

Nefeli's hand lazily traced patterns into his fur, finding solace in the repetitive motion and the soothing touch he provided. 

The bond between them had evolved from uncertainty to a deep connection.

At first, she had been unsure if Fenrir would make a good companion, but now, as she sat by the bubbling brook, she couldn't imagine being without him. 

He reminded her so much of Vesemir. Strong and comforting. 

The horse had become more than just a companion; he was a source of comfort and familiarity in a world where uncertainties loomed at every turn. 

The lush forest enveloped them in a verdant embrace, its towering trees standing sentinel with thick canopies that filtered the fading sunlight. 

The ground beneath was a carpet of vibrant green moss and soft, fallen leaves, muffling the sound of their footsteps. 

The air was alive with the sweet fragrance of pine and the subtle perfume of wildflowers.

The small brook, a crystalline ribbon winding through the heart of the forest, bubbled merrily as it meandered between moss-covered rocks and patches of delicate ferns. 

Its clear water sparkled in the dusk, reflecting the grey sky above. 

The soft gurgling of the brook added a melodic undertone to the symphony of nature that surrounded them.

The tall man with white hair knelt by the water's edge, the forest seemed to hold its breath, a silent witness to the scene. 

The silver wolf medallion around his neck caught the dappled sunlight, its polished surface gleaming. 

It clinked gently against the leather of his attire, a subtle melody that resonated with the forest's quiet whispers.

His long white hair cascaded down his strong shoulders like a waterfall of silk, framing his face in an ethereal manner. 

Each strand seemed to catch the sunlight, creating a halo around him. 

That long scar, etched like a rugged riverbed, rippled across Geralt's face, mirroring the gentle movements of the water beneath him. 

"Tell me," Geralt's golden eyes met Nefeli's, his intense gaze locking onto hers as if seeking answers hidden within the depths of her soul.

Nefeli blinked, momentarily entranced by the play of light and shadow on his scarred features. 

She found herself captivated by the way his long white hair fluttered across his face, a cascade of silken strands framing his rugged profile. 

His eyes were a mesmerizing blend of molten gold and dark obsidian coals.

Like fire. She thought as she watched those eyes bore into her.

Nefeli shifted uncomfortably under Geralt's unwavering stare, her mind racing to find the right words amidst the intensity of his gaze. 

The golden fire in his eyes seemed to pierce through the layers of her being, leaving her feeling exposed, vulnerable to a scrutiny that reached beyond the surface.