To Heal A Lonely Heart

Broken

"Yeah, that seems like a fair price," panted the witcher once we both came down from our high.

I smiled, holding out my hand. Confused he took it into his own, as I shook it curtly. "It's deal, then," I giggled.

"Hm. Deal. You'll have to do better than bread then, though," he grinned down at me.

I smiled as we made our way back to Roach. "Poor girl," I said to her as I stroked her mane, "Had to see everything." This earned me an affirmative snort from the mare.

Next to me, the witcher shrugged. "Wasn't her first time," he said nonchalantly. Roach grunted at this, almost sounding annoyed. I chuckled at her reaction and we continued walking.

We were making our way west towards Temeria, walking all day and resting by night, eating while walking. This continued for three days until we reached a river, the Pontar, exactly where a ferry lay at the shore.

"Passage for two people and a horse," Geralt grunted towards the ferryman. The latter held out his hand as we stepped closer. "That'll be 50. But make sure your nag doesn't shit."

With a hard expression on his face Geralt handed the man his coin and led Roach and me on the ferry. It was a short way across the river, and within about ten minutes we stood on the other shore.

"Come," said the witcher and started walking towards the village that stretched out in front of us. A little hesitant I followed after him, making sure that my hair was covering my ears. They weren't as pointy as those of a pure elf, but too pointy to pass as 'all human'. Geralt led us towards an inn, bringing Roach to the stables and ridding her of our bags, before entering the tavern.

Inside it was loud and packed with people smelling of stale beer. The man behind the bar spoke up as he saw us – two hooded figures, obviously carrying weapons – entering, "Welcome to Flotsam inn! How can I – Witcher!" the inn-keeper narrowed his eyes at us. The whole inn was quiet, staring at the tall hooded figure in front of me. I heard muttering, something along the lines 'go fuck yourself' and 'mutant bastard'. "We don't want your kind here!" I pushed myself in front of Geralt, who was currently clenching his jaw and fists. I knew that the Witchers' reputation was bad, but I didn't expect people to react this hostile when they had absolutely no reason to.

"Please," I said placatory, "we are only looking for a room to stay the night, nothing more. I promise we won't cause any trouble."

"Pah!" the fat inn-keeper laughed out. "Witcher, you have your whore talk for you," he mocked.

I narrowed my eyes at him, jaw and fists clenched. I was angry. If I wanted I could burn this place to the ground with one flick of my wrist. Geralt must have sensed that. He reached out for my forearm from under his cloak, giving it a light squeeze, a silent 'don't do it'. Oddly, his touch calmed me down a little bit.

"She is not a whore," came the witcher's voice from above me. It was low and threatening, pushed through clenched teeth. "And she speaks the truth. We are not seeking trouble, only a place to stay for the night. We'll be gone by tomorrow morning."

"Then go, Witcher. 100 orens each," the fat man said, holding out his hand. I raised my eyebrow. Surely it wasn't that expensive for all the other guests, but still I complied, digging in my backpack for my coin-purse, and so did the witcher. Without glancing at the people in the tavern even once, we made our way upstairs towards our room.

Once inside I took in our bearings. Well, the room was clean at least, and the bed looked soft. The hearth was lit, the crackling fire shining a soft golden glow upon the room. In the corner sat a bathtub, already filled with – well...- water. I dipped my fingers in... lukewarm.