Hello, Gwynbleidd...

Chapter Eight: Dogs just know...you know?

Geralt walked out of the tavern, with Jordan in tow...

He had been surprised to see her with two swords...even more surprised to see that she seemed to know more about some things than even he did...

"Why are you collecting spider webs?" Geralt asked in confusion as Jordan took two sticks to a thick spiderweb, "If you get bit, I'm not making a salve for you!" Geralt exclaimed as Jordan came walking back on to the main road, wrapping the webbing in a thin cloth. He was standing with Roach's reins in hand, waiting on Jordan.

"Listen and learn, Wolf. If you apply these webs to a bleeding wound, it'll defend against infection if we encounter any injured humans," she explained, putting the webbing into her satchel.

"Doesn't mean you won't get bit," Geralt grunted.

"Doesn't mean you have to be a prick," Jordan grunted back and Geralt huffed...

***

They went on, headed for the Nilfgardian Garrison, Jordan riding on the back of Roach while Geralt had the reins in front, as horses were in short supply during war times.

"Are there any places in Vizima that sell dogs?" Jordan asked, breaking the quiet.

"You plan on investing in a pooch?" Geralt asked.

"Thinking about it. It would be fitting revenge after all...to kill Eredin with an attack dog," Jordan smirked to herself, "It should be easy, considering I cut off his right hand," Jordan added proudly.

"Then, it better be a big dog. Some kind of Mastiff perhaps...?" Geralt assumed.

"I was thinking more like a grey Pitbull...or even a Rottweiler. Something with a wide jaw. Good for ripping flesh," Jordan reasoned casually.

"Hmm, very fearsome...but an attack dog is a lot of work. And you might not be able to take the hound with you when you go home," Geralt's tone almost sounded friendly. His demeanor had lightened from his brooding.

"You don't think I could handle a dog?" Jordan questioned.

Geralt laughed sarcastically, "Not what I said..." he chuckled.

"But you implied it."

"Absolutely."

"I've owned several dogs, thank you very much. And they were hunters. There was Tippy, Boe, Bailey...and the strongest of my pack was Saxon. My handsome hound. Big as a bear," Jordan told him proudly and Geralt smiled faintly.

"A bear, really?"

"No doubt. When I was a small babe, he guarded my crib... When I was a young girl, he protected me from mean children. And when I was a young lady...he warmed the foot of my bed as I would read to him..." Jordan sighed, "I know that he couldn't have understood me- he was pearl eyed and unable to walk properly in the end...I must sound so foolish to a man raised as a Witcher..." Jordan muttered quietly and Geralt remained silent for a few moments.

"I think your bear knew," Geralt remarked.

"You think so...?" Jordan perked up.

"Of course," Geralt chuckled, "Dogs just sort of...know...you know?" he wondered if he was the foolish one.

"Yeah...I think I do," Jordan smiled to herself...

***

They reached the Nilfgardian Garrison and Jordan followed Geralt up the long steps, "The Commander is not what he seems," Jordan whispered, "Not an honorable soldier...just a grunt with ribbons and a silver tongue," she finished and Geralt nodded.

"Two Witchers?"

"Can't be. The shorter one is a woman."

"Maybe you're right. Pretty enough to be a Sorceress..."

"But she's carrying two swords!"

"Probably a shield-maiden from Ard Skellig."

The Black Ones were muttering and gossiping already...

"More likely one of the Wolf's whores. Heard he's always neck deep in magic hooch," a Nilfgardian said from the other side of the camp and both Witchers stopped in their tracks.

"Would you care to repeat that, Black One?" Jordan asked as she walked over, but Geralt stayed in place.

"Oh...Nothin'. Just that you're Rivia's whore who got nothin' better to do than mount his silver sword," the soldier replied.

Jordan pulled down her hood and glared at the man, "Look at my eyes. I earned them, pig. I screamed in agony for twelve long hours until my mind nearly broke to earn them," she hissed darkly, "I have seen war that you can't even imagine. Blood that you can't fathom. I even sacrificed my very womb to be a Witcher," she snarled, "I'll not have some foot soldier slander what I lived for," she added and the soldier spat a laugh.

"You're just a little woman playing pretend...not a real Witcher. Because you're not a man," the soldier smirked and Jordan remained silent.

"Not a real Witcher...? Hmm...I suppose I'm supposed to go off and cry now? Maybe even kill myself because you- an insignificant little bitch- thinks I'm a- a whore..." she feigned hurt, her head falling into her hands to shed a few crocodile tears before drawing her iron sword in a flash and pressing it against his throat.

"Woah! Woah! Don't do anything hasty, love!" the soldier cowered and Jordan smirked.

"Ohh~ Look how fast things change when a man is made weak in front of his peers..." Jordan purred, "...Funny, if you might've complimented me, I'd have spared your dignity," Jordan giggled as she stepped away, still pointing her sword at him.

"W-What are you going to do to me, Witcheress?" the soldier asked, prepared to please for his life.

Jordan just smirked and flicked her blade...slicing the shoulder straps of his chest plate...and the belt of his pants.

Jordan walked back over to Geralt, sheathing her sword back on her back, "I knew you liked roguish dramatics," the Wolf smirked.

"Well, one must fight with style...or you just look like some stinking Nordling," Jordan smirked right back as they reached the Commander's tower, "No offense, Geralt," she added smugly, making Geralt chuckle and roll his eyes...