The Witcher The Swallow and The Monster

Into the Woods

(F/N) noticed the slight in-prints that had been left in the ground as he slowly followed them into the woods. Ever since he had gotten mutated, all his senses had become stronger than he thought possible. He had went straight to Mislav's hut, but he wasn't there, and he wasn't in the mood to wait, so he found a set of the hunters tracks and followed them. The sun was high up and it was perfect for tracking.

(F/N) didn't even need to squint to see the tracks, he could hear the wings of a bug that was flying quietly a few feet away, he could feel the woven rough cotton in his gloves and the slight error that had been made when they had been stitched, he could even taste things in his mouth that were a small distance away, it was like having another nose. It truly was incredible the things he could do. As (F/N) followed the tracks he opened his mouth, sure enough, he could taste tree sap off the scent of the air even through his mask. The young witcher shut his mouth. He took a big whiff of the air, to see if he could find the hunter a little easier, and muttered, "Gotcha."

The scent of sweat drifted through the air, human sweat to be exact. (F/N) walked a bit farther, and pushed his way through some bushes, sure enough the hunter was kneeling down and examining some tracks, he had a bow in his hands with a quiver full of arrows. (F/N) got closer to him making his appearance known, "You Mislav?"

Suddenly, a group of howls echoed through the woods, the man raised his hand, "Shh, you hear that?" But the witcher heard them, he knew what the sound was.

Suddenly the wind picked up blowing the scent of the creatures from afar towards him, (F/N) had a few guesses on what could be making the sound, but the smell nailed it down even more, "I'm gonna guess wild dogs?"

The young witcher knelled down next to the man, his light, black, leather pants stretched as he got on the ground. Mislav nodded as he finished examining the tracks, "Yes..." the man stood up, (F/N) mirrored his movement, as the hunter continued, "more dangerous that wolves."

(F/N) rubbed his chin, over his mask, the cloth was thin but not see through, "So you've been hired to hunt them, I see. I'm hunting something else, something a lot bigger. The Nilfgardiaans hired me to deal with your flying pest, can you take me to where you found the dead griffin?"

The man's eyes lit up, and he seemed fascinated by him, "Ahh, I see, you one of those witchers? The village has been talking about how three monster hunters have settled down for now."

(F/N) nodded, and gestured to himself, "That I am."

Mislav awkwardly scratched his neck, "I'll show you, sure. But, er, I gotta kill those mutts 'fore they hurt someone. Will you help? That is, if you don't mind bluntin' your silver blade on 'em."

(F/N) smiled, as he prepared, "Sure, I could use the practice."

The young witcher grabbed his blade, he felt his finger tips light up with pain as he made contact with the silver hilt, "Lead the way."

The hunter nodded, "Alrigh' step carefully."

(F/N) gripped his sword carefully as the hunter began walking quickly towards where they had heard the howls. Neither of the men spoke to each other, (F/N) looked at his hand, it was embarrassing to be a witcher who couldn't touch silver for long periods of time. True it only felt like he was holding his hand too close to a fire, but if he held onto his sword long enough it would feel like he was sticking it into the fire. Although, in a way he was grateful for the pain, it focused him, it kept him anchored, so he wouldn't lose it. He was determined not to lose it again like he did on...that night.

(F/N) shook his head clearing his mind, he didn't want to think about that at all, he was just hunting a pack of mutts nothing to be worried about. After a while of moving silently through the woods, Mislav held up his hand, his eyes were focused straight ahead, "There right up ahead, ready your sword."