Lolita_Friday
They used to whisper about men like him. Mothers would tell their children to run, that he was just as dangerous as whatever monster was plaguing their little towns. They warned them to stay away from those who bore the telltale medallions, the Witchers.
She'd seen him years ago, too many to count but not too many that she couldn't remember. His hair was white, like snow freshly fallen and eyes that burned like molten gold. He was bigger than any man she'd ever seen before, too tall to be a normal man, even without his visible mutations, she could tell what he was.
"Witcher." She barely breathed, but she knew he heard. Knew that he knew she was there, somewhere off in the corners of his sight but never too far out of range. "Are you going to keep following me?" He growled out.