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❝ I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. ❞
Ros
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I thought I knew what it meant to be afraid.
A blowing rain had crossed over the village once Geralt and I arrived back. Droplets landed on my face, breaking through the dirt smeared across my skin. Geralt had left to collect the reward from the alderman, leaving me with a task of my own. Find the town's herbalist.
Our fight against the wraith took a toll on both of us. My arms were enveloped in an aching sensation from where the wraith's phantom flames had singed my skin. Geralt's injuries were worse than my own, though it appeared otherwise. He walked back to the town with only his torn, black tunic to cover his chest after abandoning his ruined chest plate back at the clearing. With each shift of the material, I caught a glimpse of the injury underneath. Three long claw marks dragged across his chest, surrounded by inflamed skin.
The same pungent scent that pervaded the village was there; a sharp mix of rotten leaves and cow excrement, wild garlic and warm mud. But something was different. As soon as Geralt left my sight, the village was clouded by a feeling of lurking strangeness.
Since reuniting, I had not left Geralt's side. The feeling of comfort and protection which came upon me was intoxicating and something I had known very little of. And though Geralt always seemed to appear indifferent about whether I was with him or not, I knew that deep down there was a part of him who savoured the company just as much as I did.
A small building, more of a shack than a cottage, caught my eye. It was surrounded by a garden filled with an array of wildflowers, shrubs and roots. Crudely carved on the door was the image of a thistle. This must be where the village herbalist lived.
"Oh, forgive me," I gasped once I entered the shack. Sitting on a small cot in the centre of the room was a young man with a woman standing in front of him with hands touching his face. The young man had barely looked up at my appearance. His head was bent, hand clutching over his head, rocking slightly back and forth in pain. "I didn't know you were busy,"
