The White Wolf and the Black Nightingale

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 17

Fighting against one Selkie was challenging enough. Fighting against a Selkie queen, who was much stronger than a normal Selkie, was another thing. Fighting against a Selkie queen while smaller Selkies clinging onto your legs was a very much unwanted situation.

Geralt was exactly in that very unwanted situation. The Selkies clinging into his legs were making it harder to maneuver and dodge the attacks from the queen, who also relentlessly came in one attack after the other.

Luckily, with him being a Witcher, he was able to hold out and block her attacks. He worked on getting rid of the smaller Selkies to make it easier to battle Lilith, ignoring the wails of anger from her with every Selkie that he killed.

Once they were all dead on the ground with only the Selkie queen left, he glanced up at the female as she stood a few feet in front of him. She was fuming with anger at the fact he had just basically murdered her... children? If he could even refer to them as such.

"You'll pay for that!" she screamed as she leaped at him, claws outstretched, and swiping at him. She got in a few hits, some small scratches that ripped through his armor and skin. She was becoming a real pain in the ass by now.

He let out a growl when she landed a scratch across his cheek, swinging his silver sword upwards and plunging it deep into her stomach. She let out a gasp, stumbling backward and pressing a hand against the stab wound.

She fell to her knees, brows furrowed as she stared back up at him. Geralt simply stared back with an unreadable expression, swinging his sword again to cut off her head for good measure.

He grimaced at the blood that coated his sword and armor, walking over to the pond to wash the blood from his face and out of his hair. The blood on his armor would come later.

He made his way back towards Flotsam to gather up his things, glaring at anyone who gave him a grimace at the blood. Their stares didn't bother him too much since he was used to being stared at weirdly after dealing with a monster.

He marched straight up to his room in the inn to collect his remaining stuff before making his way to the town stables to get Roach.

If he was lucky, he might be able to catch up with Shaela and Jaskier before they reached the lost woods. But them again it had been almost a week since she left and it would take about a week to get there.

Geralt mounded his horse, giving a nod towards Zoltan as the dwarf now could "finally leave this shithole" as he had worded it.

The Witcher watched his friend leave in the opposite direction before motioning for Roach to a light trott down the other path.

~~~

Being a Witcher certainly had its perks. For instance, he didn't have to rest as much as the avarage person. It defenitily helped to make his journey shorter when he only had to rest for a few hours at a time for Roach and he could simply meditate.

The journey to the Lost Woods would have taken around a week for most people. Geralt manged to get there in two days less. Now he just had to find Shaela somewhere in the dense forrest that loomed before him.

The forrest had earned its name for a good reason. No matter which way one would turn there were only trees as far as the eye can see. The nearest town was a good 5 miles from the outer parts of the woods. 

Finding Shaela would be harder than he had hoped. She had to be somewhere in the woods since he hadn't spotted her in the town he passed through. He hadn't really thought this through at all and it was coming back to bite him in the ass now.

All Geralt could do was start going through the woods in hopes of finding the female as soon as possible. Best case scenario she was somewhere amongst the trees just as lost as he seemed to be getting, or maybe even given up and returned to either Flotsam or Wyvernbourne. Worse case scenario... well, he didn't want to think about that option.

The time he had spent searching and trying to figure out which way was which in the woods gave him a chance to think over the past few weeks. One question that had popped up a lot was why he was even helping Shaela in the first place.

He didn't know her very well, and Geralt wasn't exactly known for being very helpful unless money or monster slaying was involved. But then again, the girl had piqued his interest. Perhaps because of the fact that she had been raised by two of his seniors from the Wolf School, or perhaps because there was more to her than meets the eye.

There might have even been something else, something buried deep down that the Witcher was in full denial about. He barely even knew her, and honestly he was just keeping his promise to Yunna and Davac of keeping an eye on Shaela.

Being deep in his own thoughts, he missed the motion of figures moving silently nearby. His gaze moved around to spot a handful of figures surounding him, all with bows drawn and aimed at him.

One of the figures stepped up behind him, bow still drawn and aimed as they spoke in an unfamiliar language that he had never heared before. He frowned, the voice sounding familiar yet not being able to place a finger on it before the same voice repeated their words in the common tongue.

"Hands where we can see them or you're dead."

He turned his head to see a female stand behind him, a glare on her face and weapon aimed at his head. It took him a full minute before he recognised her as Shaela, and she herself was quick to recognise him as well.

"Geralt?"