I look myself up and down, a small smile present on my face. Vesemir has given me new clothes that will allow me to move more freely. It consists of trousers, a blue long shirt, and a leather vest that wraps around my chest and ends at the bottom of my torso. He also has given me these leather wrist straps that will help with chafing during training.
It's more than just about moving freely, though, for me. Without the dress and in these new clothes, I feel like I belong here, and that I'm not a sheltered, pretentious princess. I am ready to learn.
After breakfast, the training begins, and it starts with running to build up my stamina.
Geralt gives me instructions. "Run around the Killer until I come fetch you."
The Killer is a path that encircles the mountain. Geralt had told me earlier that this was where he and the other Witchers training their running speed and breathing technique.
While my leg has been healing well, running might harm the process. The last thing I want to be seen as, though, is a whiner, so I hold my tongue and nod.
Before he lets me go, he grabs my wrist and ensures eye contact before he speaks. "If for any reason you need a break, tell me."
"Okay," I say. He holds me for a second longer, and then lets me go, turning to his swords.
I take off, running into the woods. I used to be terrible at running, but once that's all you do, you become fairly good at it. Though, the pain that jolts my leg at every step is a reminder that I do need to learn to pay more attention to the ground when running in heavily forested areas.
I manage fine for the first thirty minutes- my breathing steady and the pain of my leg blending in to the point I barely feel it any more. I let my mind roam as I become comfortable with my run, almost enjoying it.
At breakfast today, everyone was back to their usual selves, though Coen seemed more open than usual and much less stare-you-to-death-y. I think he's starting to revert back to how he used to be, before finding out about me. Eskel and Lambert, on their part, like to tease me, but I am surprised that I don't mind it. It makes me feel normal, as if we are one, big, screwed-up family.
I'm so deep in my thoughts, I don't immediately recognize the icy feeling building in my chest until it strengthens and becomes all I feel.
I come to a stop so abruptly, I tumble off my feet and have to grab a nearby tree to prevent me from falling down.
That feeling- the same feeling that I got when the wyvern started attacking us- is raging in me right now. The back of my neck starts tingling almost painfully as the distance between me and whatever beast is after me shortens. I immediately turn on my heel and scramble in the direction of Kaer Morhen.
That's when I hear a howl behind me.
"Shit!" I curse as I jump over branches that are out to get me. I don't know if I will make it. Whatever creature this is, it's moving faster than me. I can feel the pull towards it get stronger and stronger. I can only hope the heads-up from the monster detector inside me will be enough to save me.
Despite having run for half-an-hour, the adrenaline pumping in me fuels my steps, giving me extra speed and energy that I was running low on. I dodge branches, swing around trees that find themselves in my way, and push my body off of the rocks and snow. I consider climbing up a tree to get away from the creature before deciding it's too risky. I have a better chance of survival by finding one of the Witchers.
"Geralt!" I yell once I get closer to the gate of Kaer Morhen, heaving, "Monster!" The beast is so close, I can hear it behind me, crunching over the snow and hitting the branches I dodged straight-on.
I don't look back to see what it is. At the moment, being ignorant is better than knowing.
It growls behind me, and I find myself running even faster.
I don't want to die. Not today. Not when I've made it so far.
I burst through the gate and spot Geralt already barreling towards me, a sword in his hand. His eyes widen as he catches sight of the creature on my heels.
Well, that can't be a good sign.
The monster pounces on me, but Geralt is too far away to help. I see the shadow of it approaching my body.
"Left!" Geralt yells, and I immediately throw my body to the left side, ducking under its sailing form as it misses my hair by a few inches and lands on its paws to the ground.
Because of the momentum, I end up rolling a couple of times before I end up on my knees and hands, looking up at the creature.
"Fuck," I curse as I finally see the monster.
It's a wolf, but something is off. This wolf creature is huge. If we would stand side-by-side, its head would be looking down at my own, and next to Geralt, it would be around the same height. Hell, its paw is probably the size of my own head.
My eyes widen as it faces me, pins its ears back, and bares its teeth at me- teeth that are very very sharp and could chomp my arm off easily. It roars at me, and I nearly choke as its bad breath reaches my nose. Dude seriously needs a mint.
I don't wait long to get back to my feet and dart away from it as it bounds after me again.
Geralt finally arrives, sliding in between me and the wolf.
I hear yelling from the entrance of Kaer Morhen and see some Witchers rushing out of the keep, their weapons glinting in the sun. Geralt doesn't wait for them. He's eager to kill this wolf-creature.
The wolf should have realized his mistake as soon as he set his eyes on Geralt's white hair and sword, or maybe it's never run into a Geralt before, which is more likely, given that it's still alive. The wolf-creature jumps forward, trying to munch Geralt's shoulder.
Geralt moves with inhumanely fast speed, sidestepping the attack without much effort and pivoting his blade in a way that strikes the beast's face. It yowls in pain and swipes at Geralt with its claws, and Geralt skips out of the way.
A crossbow arrow hits the wolf's flank, and it tumbles to its side as it whines. My eyes snap back to the approaching Witchers, and I spot Lambert holding a crossbow in his hands and grinning.
Geralt doesn't give the wolf a chance to get to his feet before beheading him in a swift motion.
Is beheading always the plan of attack with monsters or something?
Next thing I know, Geralt is helping me up to my feet. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"
My eyes never leave the beheaded body of the wolf as my heart pounds. "Yeah, I'm okay. Honestly, I think I'm starting to get the hang of running away from monsters. The first time, with the wyvern, I was like 'oh shit', but this time, with the wolf-thingy, I was still like 'oh shit', but I also immediately ran. I didn't even have to think about it. It was like instinct. You might as well call me a running away from monster professional. And see! I didn't bang up my knee either. Now that's what I call improve-"
"Ciri." Geralt cuts me off, and I feel his hand, smelling like leather and horse, on my cheek. He gently moves my face away from the wolf and towards him. "You're rambling."
I see his concerned eyes on mine, surprised to see they are their usual amber color. He must not have taken the dark potion. "Oops, sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about." He drops his hand and tilts his head. "Tell me what happened."
That's when I notice we have an audience. Lambert, Eskel, and Coen surround us, listening to what I have to say. I shift on my feet. "Well, I was minding my own business, running about, when I felt it again."
"Like what you felt when the wyvern attacked," Geralt says. A statement. Not a question.
I nod. "It's like... a pull. I knew where it was, and I knew where it was heading. I could feel it getting closer to me, so I could figure out which way to run to avoid it. The closer it got to me, the stronger the pull, so I could tell my time to run away was limited and that I had to make the most of it." I shiver as I look at it again. "What is it? It's not a normal wolf."
"A warg," Eskel supplies, "It's a warg."
Geralt sees the question on my face. "Wargs are a larger and more aggressive breed of wolves. They usually travel in packs though." He focuses on the other Witchers. "There could be more of it."
"Coen and I will double-check the perimeter. See if anything more is out there," Lambert says.
A shot of anxiety hits me through the chest as I imagine them facing a pack of wargs on their own. "But what if something is out there? Won't you guys get hurt?"
There's a short silence, and then all of the Witchers chuckle as if I've said a joke.
Geralt explains, "Wargs aren't that dangerous to us, compared to the other monsters we encounter." That must be why Geralt never bothered with the dark potion for the wolf.
With that, Lambert leaves his crossbow with Eskel, and then they head in the direction of the Killer, their swords by their sides. I bite my lip as I see them leave.
"From now on, one of us will join you on your run, until we know it's safe again." I glance at Geralt, but he's not looking at me. He's staring at the warg. "That was too close to my liking."
Eskel tells me, "It's a good thing you're quick on your feet. It'll help with the training." We start making our way towards the keep.
"Speaking of training," Geralt says, "Would you like to take the day off? I understand if you're too shaken to continue."
I may be shaken, but my desire to train has only further resolved. I need to know how to defend myself, so in case Geralt isn't there, I don't meet my death.
"No. I want to continue. What's next?" I ask, extending my fingers before clenching them into fists, warming up my hands for the next activity.
"How to wield a sword. Stay here," Geralt orders as we stand next to the entrance of the keep. "I'll grab the training sword. I'll be right back."
Geralt takes off, leaving me and Eskel alone. Eskel smirks at me.
"What is it now?" I roll my eyes, ready for some quip of his.
"You've got a tough spirit to break." Eskel smiles. "Just like Geralt. It's no surprise you were meant for him."
And with that, he enters the keep, and the door closes quietly behind him.