With a Witcher

o n e

She missed him deeply. It wasn't like she was not used to being alone but rather that being with the person she loved brought comfort and eased some of the loneliness. As such, she hated when Geralt was not by her side. She also missed the family he had created for himself and, in turn, her.

Her little cottage in the forest was quiet, like usual, but the chill made her miss the Witcher. The cold bed was unpleasant without the large man's body. Even with the fire roaring behind her, she shivered. Most pressingly, though, it was empty. She missed having her hair played with and not having to chop the wood herself.

Without him, she always cooked too much. She constantly brought extra food, enough to feed half a dozen people as she never knew when Geralt would be back with Cirilla, Jaskier and, of course, Roach. Sadly, fresh produce had a habit of rotting and in winter, no crops grew. She tried to cook as much as possible before it rotted but then the food would grow old in the pot she cooked in.

In spite of the fact that she was alone, she still left a bowl of water on her front door for Roach and left the bundle of hay behind the door. Sometimes Geralt would get back before dawn broke but other times she would see him upon her return from the market. It was easier to have everything prepared in case of their return.

She didn't intend to fall in love with Geralt. Quite the opposite, in fact. Upon first meeting, she thought that he was a brute. It was as if all he knew was to kill and maim and injure. She was wrong but he still insisted that it was all he knows.

It was even stranger that he fell in love with her. She did not expect that to happen. Not after their first proper departure. She was happy that she had him, though. He was a kind man. He would not admit it but he would show it without intending to. He was gentle. At first, he had to consciously be so but it had slowly become natural to him. It was heightened when he found Cirilla. It then increased when he fell in love with her.

*

When she first met him, he had just fought at the local brothel. The fight continued into the forest where she lived. He claimed that it happened in self-defence and that he was wrongly accused of theft. She hated when things like that happened. The outside didn't feel as safe after it happened and it disturbed her sleep.

When she was rudely woken by the sound of screaming and fighting, she sought out the Witcher and screamed at him. She remembered the moment clearly. She was barefooted and ran towards him. 'You brute! You had disturbed my evening.' She had heard much about the White Wolf but was stunned by his looks. The Witcher stood tall and broad. His white hair was messy and splattered with blood and he looked back at her with cold, amber eyes. She was enamoured by him.

The Witcher only replied with a grunt which angered her more than it should have. It may have been, in part, due to her attraction to him. She didn't understand what it was about him that made her so attracted. 'You are so rude. You just came here, caused a fight and didn't even apologise!' She threw her arms up into the air exasperated.

'Don't assume things, little girl.' His voice was merely above a low grumble and she felt more aroused as he stepped a little closer to her. His hands still around the reigns for his horse. 'You don't know anything.' He dipped his face even closer to hers and her breathing shallowed just a little. It was still enough for him to notice, though.

She clenched her fists wanting nothing more than to punch him. Luckily, she was smarter than that. It would have only led to her breaking her fist against the mountain of a man. 'Don't call me a little girl, you brute.' She barely got the sentence out through her gritted teeth.

'Why don't you fuck off back home, little girl?' Geralt sneered and got closer to her again and she found it infuriating. He turned away from her and pulled on Roach's reigns. She was too angry to shout after him and retired back to her cottage.