Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝ An unfortunate pastime when one finds themselves in such lovely company, ❞
Jaskier
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Get the thieving bitch!"
My heart pounded against my chest as I sprint down the rocky path, shoving people aside, squirming between them and slamming into anyone in my way. The men chasing me roared in anger as I leapt over crates, carts and walls; all of them lacking in the agility to move as quick as me.
And then a hand shot out of an alcove and closed around my arm like a snare, so hard that my purse went flying from her hand. Another hand clamped around my mouth, muffling my yell as I kicked desperately at the person holding me tight to their chest. I was wrenched off her feet, as easy as if I were a doll.
A voice hissed in my ear, their breath tickling my neck as they silenced my muffled shrieks. An arm wrapped around my body, pinning my arms to my sides as the group ran past them. The hanging shrubs over the alcove hid them from view until the group of raging men were nothing but distant and confused shouts.
Even though a long moment had passed since the men had disappeared, the person holding me waited a few moments more before finally unwinding their arm from my waist. I turned on my feet, ready to yell and run, only to find a face pressed close to mine, long white hair and growing stubble tickling my cheeks.
"Geralt!" I gasped, my eyes wide as I stared at the large man. He had not aged a day but seemed to have grown stronger. Three years had passed since Blaviken. That was the last time I saw him, but not the last I heard of him. Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken had turned into a cautionary tale across the Continent. A lullaby of woe used to spread hatred for a man who saved an entire town from slaughter. "What a fortunate surprise,"
Though Geralt had not changed, I had. My hair had grown longer, the untameable locks tied back in a single braid. The green ribbon I had taken from Madelief's farm was no longer tied around my wrist but instead woven into my braid.
