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❝ Whoever it was, she couldn't outrun him. ❞
Geralt of Rivia
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The village we arrived at was small and quiet, a farming settlement surrounded by bare fields. Men worked on the soil, preparing it for the vegetables waiting to be planted. Women walked around the village gathering herbs, in the midst of attending to housework or weaving freshly sheared wool. In the distance, the silhouette of castle Hagge could be seen, taunting the poor town on what niceties can be bought had they not been born into such unfortunate lives.
Geralt and I walked alongside Roach as we travelled through the settlement. There was no inn, the village was far too small and remote to attract enough travellers to need one. Perhaps the next town would have a place to stay.
A notice board stood at the middle of the village, standing on weak wooden legs chewed by woodworm. Flecks of chipped paint stuck to my fingers as I trailed them over some of the notes pinned to the board.
Dear neighbours, I've had these awful dreams where I open my mouth and all my teeth come tumbling out at once, then turn into vile, squirming little things that burrow into the ground. What could this portend? Misfortune? Illness? A barren womb?
If you know, pray tell and I'll feast you to berries and broth.
~Crumhilda
"Seems more like an overactive imagination to me," I mumbled after reading about Crumhilda's dream. I wonder what stories and warnings people had said about her dream since the note was posted. The girl had probably frightened herself into an early grave.
A red wax seal caught my eye as I was about to turn from the notice board. The writing was far more legible compared to the other notes yet the scrawl seemed to be almost frantic. A brow raised at the heading underlined once, twice, three times.
